The Last Heir of the Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 3

The rain returned that night.

Not the violent storm from days before.

This rain was quieter.

Slow.

Steady.

Like something waiting.

The streets of Arlein shimmered under the streetlights, reflections stretching across the pavement like broken glass.

Inside the small house at the edge of the city, the lights were still on.

Lieta Van Declaoria stood by the kitchen window.

She had been standing there for nearly twenty minutes.

Watching.

Waiting.

The curtain barely moved as the wind brushed against it.

Her reflection stared back at her in the glass.

Calm.

Controlled.

But her eyes were sharper than usual.

Outside, a car passed slowly down the street.

Too slowly.

Lieta noticed.

She always noticed.

Behind her, Regna was in the living room helping Alena finish a puzzle on the coffee table.

“Where does this piece go?” Alena asked, holding a crooked blue piece in the air.

Regna leaned closer.

“That one goes here,” he said, guiding her small hand toward the corner.

Alena placed the piece.

The puzzle completed a picture of a bright sky with birds flying over a field.

She clapped her hands happily.

“I did it!”

“You did,” Regna laughed.

From the kitchen doorway, Lieta watched them quietly.

For a moment, something softened in her expression.

But only for a moment.

Because the world outside that house had already begun to move.

And she knew it.

Across the city, inside the same glass tower where the meeting had taken place earlier that day, the lights on the thirty-second floor were still burning.

The conference room looked the same.

Long table.

Dark walls.

Rain sliding down the tall windows behind them.

Four people sat in silence.

Silver hair.

Sharp suits.

Cold eyes.

Members of the Van Declaoria Family Council.

The folder containing Regna’s information rested on the table once again.

The silver-haired man at the head of the table flipped through its pages slowly.

“Observation teams confirmed his routine,” he said calmly.

Another man leaned back in his chair.

“He works a normal office job.”

“Lives in a small house.”

“A daughter.”

“Nothing remarkable.”

The woman seated beside him crossed her arms.

“That makes him even more dangerous.”

Silence settled over the table.

Because they all understood what she meant.

The silver-haired man closed the folder.

“Lieta should have known this day would come.”

One of the younger men frowned.

“Are we certain she knows?”

The older man looked up.

His eyes were cold.

“She always knows.”

Back in the small house, Regna tucked Alena into bed.

She yawned sleepily as he pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Will the rain stop tomorrow?”

Regna smiled faintly.

“I hope so.”

She nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Children accepted simple hopes easily.

Within seconds, her breathing slowed.

Sleep came quickly.

Regna turned off the light and quietly closed the door.

When he returned to the living room, he noticed Lieta still standing by the window.

“You’ve been staring out there for a while,” he said.

Lieta didn’t turn around immediately.

“Have I?”

Regna walked into the kitchen.

“Something wrong?”

She finally faced him.

For a moment, she studied his face carefully.

As if measuring something.

“No,” she said calmly.

“Just thinking.”

Regna shrugged.

“Well… try not to think too much. It’s late.”

He grabbed a glass of water from the counter.

“Don’t stay up too long.”

“I won’t.”

Regna headed down the hallway toward his bedroom.

The door closed softly behind him.

The house fell quiet.

And Lieta turned back to the window.

The black sedan was still parked across the street.

Its headlights were off.

But she could see the silhouette of the driver.

Watching.

Waiting.

Just as she had expected.

Across town, the silver-haired man stood alone in the conference room.

The others had left.

Only the rain and the distant city lights remained.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Then picked up the phone.

“Begin phase two,” he said.

“Send a message.”

The voice on the other end hesitated.

“To Lieta?”

“Yes.”

He looked out over the skyline.

“Remind her who she belongs to.”

At the small house, Lieta closed the curtain slowly.

Then she walked toward the drawer beneath the kitchen counter.

She opened it.

Inside was the same old phone.

The one she had looked at earlier that day.

She picked it up.

Turned it over in her hand.

Then dialed a number.

The line rang once.

Twice.

A man answered.

“Who is this?”

Lieta’s voice remained perfectly calm.

“It’s been a long time,” she said.

There was silence on the other end.

Then a sharp intake of breath.

“…Lieta?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

“We thought you were gone.”

“I was.”

The rain tapped softly against the windows.

“But now they’ve come looking again.”

The man on the phone sounded uneasy.

“What happened?”

“They found Regna.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

“Then it’s begun.”

Lieta’s eyes drifted back toward the dark street outside.

“Yes.”

“It has.”

Across the street, inside the parked sedan, the driver’s phone buzzed.

He checked the message.

Two words appeared on the screen.

Proceed Tonight

The man started the engine quietly.

Inside the house, Lieta ended her call.

She stood there for several seconds, listening.

The low rumble of a car engine outside.

She closed her eyes briefly.

Then she smiled.

A very small smile.

Because everything was happening exactly as she expected.

Far above the city, in the glass tower, the silver-haired man looked down at the glowing streets of Arlein.

The folder remained open on the desk.

Regna Mileron.

Last male descendant of the Van Declaoria bloodline.

The man whispered to himself,

“Blood always returns to its source.”

But at that same moment, in the quiet house at the edge of the city, Lieta Van Declaoria stood in the arkness of the kitchen.

Her voice was soft.

Almost amused.

“I can never know how the bird will fly,” she said quietly.

“But I can always predict your next move…”

Her eyes hardened.

“…dear uncle.”

Outside, the sedan slowly began to move.

Lieta watched it through the curtain.

Completely calm.

Because there was something the Van Declaoria Family had forgotten.

A mother always knows her child.

And blood recognizes blood.

As the old saying goes—

A mother’s predictions about her child are always the strongest.

Because the same blood runs through their veins.

The sedan stopped at the end of the street.

The driver stepped out.

The rain continued to fall over Arlein.

And the dark side of the Van Declaoria Family…

was finally beginning to show itself.