Chapter 423: The Sealed File

Grayson stared at the blue light of his phone screen, his fingers hovering over the glass. He glanced down at Mailah, who was tucked peacefully into his chest. Her small hand rested over his heart, her quiet breathing warm against his skin.

Careful not to wake her by even a single breath, Grayson typed back with one hand:

Do not call. Do not come to the house. Meet me at the private tea house on the east quay at dawn. Bring the folder.

Jasper’s reply came three seconds later: Yes, My Lord! I will be there!

Grayson set the phone back down on the wooden nightstand with absolute silence. He looked down at Mailah again, his sharp features softening into a helpless, swoon-worthy smile.

To an ancient demon prince who had ruled over shadows for hundreds of years, slipping out of a warm bed should have been simple. But Mailah was wrapped around him like a sweet vine. If he shifted even an inch, her soft brow pulled together, and she made a tiny, sleepy hum that nearly broke his heart.

Grayson froze mid-movement, holding his breath like a giant cat trying not to trigger a trap.

"You are a master of dark magic," Grayson grumbled in a silent whisper to himself, staring up at the ceiling beams. "You have fought mountain beasts and ancient kings. Yet a tiny human woman holding your waist has locked you in place for twenty minutes."

He spent ten painstaking minutes slowly sliding his arm out from under her shoulders, replacing himself with a soft velvet pillow. When Mailah cuddled into the pillow with a contented sigh, Grayson let out a quiet breath of relief.

He slid out of bed, adjusted the heavy blankets around her shoulders to ensure no cool night air could touch her, and leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss against her temple.

Before leaving the room, he walked over to his heavy mahogany desk, picked up a fountain pen, and wrote a note in elegant, sweeping ink.

He set the paper on her nightstand right next to a fresh glass of water, pulled on his long dark coat, and stepped out into the quiet night.

At five o’clock in the morning, the city’s east quay was covered in a thick, gray river fog. The quiet tea house at the edge of the pier was closed to the public, but the heavy wooden doors unlocked smoothly the moment Grayson approached.

Inside, the air smelled of dried jasmine and woodsmoke. Sitting in a leather booth near the back, looking like a man who had not slept in three days, was Jasper Smith.

Jasper was clutching a thick, heavy leather folder bound with red silk string and three silver wax seals. The moment the front door clicked shut and Grayson’s tall, imposing figure stepped into the dim room, Jasper nearly jumped out of his skin.

"M-My Lord!" Jasper gasped, scrambling out of his seat and bowing so low his nose almost touched the table. "You came fast!"

Grayson walked over with slow, steady strides. The heavy fabric of his dark coat rustled softly as he sat down across from the investigator. He did not look at the tea on the table. His sharp, dark eyes locked directly onto the sealed folder in Jasper’s hands.

"You said you have the official record," Grayson said flatly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room like a cold blade.

"I do!" Jasper stammered, holding the heavy folder out with both hands as if it were a ticking bomb. "My informant got it straight out of the High Council’s vault! It took three bags of gold and two rare potions to buy off the vault keeper, but here it is!"

Grayson reached out and took the folder. It was thick, heavy, and cold to the touch. The silver wax seals carried the mark of the High Elders—an ancient symbol that only direct royal eyes were ever meant to see.

"What does it say?" Grayson asked quietly, his eyes fixated on the silver wax.

Jasper raised his hands defensively, shaking his head frantically. "I don’t know! I swear to you, My Lord, I didn’t open it! The silver seals are cursed! If anyone below royal blood breaks those seals, their hands turn to stone! Plus... I didn’t want to know things that could get me hunted by the Council!"

Grayson narrowed his eyes. "You brought me a file without reading it first?"

"I couldn’t read the file itself, but my informant talked to the old guard who was on duty the night she was cast out!" Jasper explained quickly, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a frantic whisper.

Grayson paused, his thumb resting against the hard silver wax. "She didn’t steal anything?"

"Not a single coin!" Jasper whispered. "The guard said the Elders made up the story about a missing relic to cover up what actually happened. What she did was far worse in their eyes. She broke one of the most ancient, strictly forbidden laws of the dark realm. A rule so old and sacred that even mentioning it out loud is considered a disgrace!"

Grayson’s jaw tightened. A cold, dark stillness settled over his sharp features.

In the dark realm, rules were simple. Power was respected, pride was law, and ancient traditions were held above all else. For a young daughter of the House of Valerius to break a law so severe that the Elders sealed her trial in dark magic meant she had done something unthinkable.

"Does the guard know which forbidden law she broke?" Grayson asked softly.

"No," Jasper admitted, pulling at his collar. "The guard said the Elders cleared the courtroom before reading the full charges. Only the Elders and the royal family leaders knew the exact details. But the complete record—the official transcript of her crime—is right inside that sealed folder in your hands."

Grayson stared down at the heavy leather folder. The dark mystery was sitting right in his palm, resting behind three pieces of silver wax.

He pulled a thick velvet pouch of gold coins from his inner coat pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of Jasper with a heavy thud.

"You did well, Jasper," Grayson said smoothly, his voice returning to its calm, aristocratic tone. "Forget you ever pulled this file. Forget you ever heard the name Chloe. If a single rumor leaves your mouth, I will personally ensure your next job is sweeping floors in the lower realm."

Jasper grabbed the pouch of gold and nodded violently. "I’m a ghost, My Lord! I was never here! I don’t even know what a Chloe is!"

Grayson stood up, buttoning his coat over the hidden folder, and walked out of the tea house into the cool morning fog.

By the time Grayson returned to the Ashford estate, the sun was rising over the green hills, casting a bright golden light across the stone courtyard.

He walked into the grand foyer, expecting silence, but was immediately greeted by the sound of loud, chaotic arguing coming from the dining room.

"It is an insult to my heritage!" Chloe’s loud voice echoed down the hall. "Who eats tiny eggs for breakfast? I want real food! Bring me five slices of bacon and a waffle the size of a dinner plate!"

"Lady Chloe," Thomas’s calm, patient voice replied, "Mrs. Baker has prepared a high-protein French omelet. It is very healthy."

"I don’t want healthy! I want sugar!" Chloe whined loudly.

Grayson walked into the dining room, handing his dark coat to a nearby servant. His mood shifted instantly from serious and cold back to his usual haughty, dramatic pride.

"If you scream at my butler one more time, child," Grayson announced smoothly, walking up to the table, "I will replace your entire breakfast with a bowl of plain raw grass."

Chloe, who was sitting in her neon-orange fake fur coat over purple pajamas, snapped her gum and glared at him. "Oh look, the gloomy prince is back. Did you go wander around a graveyard to match your personality?"

Grayson ignored her completely. His eyes swept the room until they landed on Mailah, who was sitting at the head of the table holding a warm cup of coffee. She was wearing a soft cream knit dress, her hair pinned up loosely, looking like a bright ray of morning light.

The moment Grayson saw her, his sharp posture vanished.

He moved across the room in long, swift strides, completely ignoring Chloe, and dropped down onto one knee right beside Mailah’s chair. He took her free hand into both of his, pressing his lips against her knuckles.

"My queen," Grayson rasped softly, looking up at her with big, soulful eyes. "I have returned to your side. The hour I spent away from you felt like an eternity spent in a dark, cold void."

Mailah giggled, her cheeks turning a sweet shade of pink as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. "Grayson, you were gone for forty-five minutes."

"Forty-seven minutes and twelve seconds," Grayson corrected with absolute seriousness, pressing another kiss to her palm. "Every second away from your sweet warmth is a tragedy I barely survived. Did you read my note? Did you use the pillow I warmed for you?"

"I read your note," Mailah smiled warmly, teasing him softly. "It was very dramatic. You threatened to banish Chloe over coffee beans."

"It was a promise, not a threat," Grayson noted flatly, turning his head to glare at Chloe over his shoulder.

Chloe dropped her silver fork onto her plate with a loud clatter, throwing her hands up in the air. "Gross! Absolutely disgusting! He goes from a terrifying dark lord to a needy puppy in zero seconds flat! My eyes are bleeding again!"

"Then put your ridiculous sunglasses back on," Grayson replied coldly, standing up smoothly and pulling a chair up right beside Mailah. He sat close enough that his shoulder brushed hers, taking her hand again and resting it on his knee.

"Did you sleep well, my love?" Grayson asked Mailah, his tone instantly turning back to velvety softness. "Is your leg feeling fine today? Should I order Mrs. Baker to make soft pancakes?"

"My leg is completely fine, Grayson," Mailah laughed, leaning her shoulder against his broad chest. "And I’m having a wonderful breakfast. Stop worrying about me for two minutes."

"Impossible," Grayson declared proudly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the corner of her lips.

Chloe gagged into her orange juice. "I am going to throw up. Right here on this French table."

"If you do," Grayson said smoothly, taking a sip of Mailah’s coffee just to share it with her, "I will use your bright orange coat to wipe it up."

"You monster!" Chloe gasped.

Mailah shook her head fondly, taking Grayson’s hand under the table. Even with the silly bickering and Chloe’s loud complaints, the warm room felt full of life.

Yet beneath his romantic smiles and teasing comments, Grayson could feel the heavy leather folder tucked safely inside his inner jacket pocket. The sealed mystery was waiting for him.

After breakfast, Mailah went to the greenhouse at the back of the estate to check on her potted lavender plants. Chloe trailed behind her like a grumpy yellow duckling, complaining about the damp soil while secretly helping Mailah carry a small watering can.

Seeing that his wife was safely occupied, Grayson walked silently down the grand hallway to his private study.

He stepped inside the large room.

Grayson walked over to the desk, locked the heavy wooden door behind him with a quiet click, and sat down in his high-backed leather chair.

He pulled the heavy folder from his coat and laid it flat on the dark wood.