Amelia found Kian in the study, reviewing intelligence on the Heralds. The focused concentration on his face was immediately shattered by the news. She placed the official summons—the charge of financial malfeasance and fraud related to Stellar Holdings—onto his desk.
“Friday, 14:00. Two days from now. An immediate summons to the Grand Council,” she stated, her voice sharp with controlled fury.
Kian read the charge and his face darkened. “This is Theodora and Zoran Vane. A synchronized strike while we are distracted. You cannot go, Amelia. It is a trap. They will fabricate evidence and hold you hostage politically.”
“And if I fail to appear, I validate their lies. They strip my titles and destabilize the Nightshade Pack,” Amelia countered, meeting his gaze. “I must go precisely because I am innocent. Zoran Vane is framing me with his own crimes. If I go with overwhelming proof, I will not just clear my name; I will destroy his credibility and expose Theodora forever.”
Kian sighed, acknowledging her resolve. “Then we need Ronan. He is the only one with the deep financial knowledge and the nerve to expose them.”
Amelia immediately moved to the secured communications station and initiated the line to the Royal Accountant.
“Ronan, it’s Amelia. The Elders have issued a summons regarding Stellar Holdings. They are using Zoran Vane’s original crimes to frame me.”
“Luna Amelia, I suspected this,” Ronan’s strained voice confirmed. “They are trying to seal the records now. But I have what you need. Do you remember the private messages I forwarded you five years ago? The ones detailing Theodora and Zoran Vane’s correspondence about trapping you after the engagement?”
“I do. I need them now. That’s proof of the long-term conspiracy,” Amelia confirmed. “Now, for the motive. I need something that will destroy their credibility and status in front of the Council.”
Amelia leaned in. “When I was in charge of security, I set up a private archive of all internal security footage, specifically for the Royal offices. Do those archives still exist?”
Ronan hesitated. “They do, Luna. Maintained under separate jurisdiction. But I must advise caution. That data is highly volatile.”
“I need five footages, Ronan. Any five that conclusively show Alpha Zoran Vane and Theodora in a compromising position—in her office—between the date of their first correspondence planning this trap, and the date of my aborted engagement to Zoran.”
“Five footages. The dates you requested will prove that their intimate relationship and partnership in crime predated your engagement to Alpha Vane. It proves the engagement was part of the scheme,” Ronan confirmed.
“Precisely. It proves a coordinated attack on the royal family’s integrity. Initiate the secured transfer now. Thank you, Ronan.”
Kian immediately began the decryption for the massive data package. The tension was replaced by a grim, shared satisfaction.
The messages confirming the long-running criminal conspiracy were secured first. Then, they accessed the five video files. The footages were harsh, impersonal, and damning: Theodora and Zoran Vane, in her private office, two weeks before Amelia’s engagement was publicly announced, engaged in sexual activity followed by intense conversation over data pads.
“This is a bomb,” Kian stated, his alpha aura vibrating with rage over the extent of the betrayal. “Moral turpitude, collusion, premeditated betrayal of a marriage contract. The Elders cannot overlook this level of dishonor.”
They spent the remaining forty-eight hours locked in the study, organizing the counter-attack with meticulous, cold fury. Amelia pulled up a blank document, creating the framework for her defense.
“The case against me is built on three pillars: Zoran’s testimony, the falsified financial reports, and Theodora’s political weight. We dismantle them one by one,” Amelia explained, tapping her pen against the data pad. “Ronan’s data gives us everything we need for the financial counter-argument.”
Kian nodded, reviewing the flowcharts. “We lead with the least explosive evidence. Ronan’s analysis is our first line of defense—call it ‘The Fraud.’ It’s a full accounting breakdown, proving that Zoran systematically moved those assets, and that you only came in to clean up the mess. It turns their primary charge into our proof of diligence.”
“Agreed. Once the Council is focused on the facts, we pivot to ‘The Conspiracy,’” Amelia continued, her voice hardening. “That’s the core of the political attack. Ronan’s archived messages, timestamped and authenticated. These communications prove Theodora and Zoran Vane planned this setup for years. It shows intent, motive, and high-level collusion against the royal family. It makes their actions treasonous, not merely opportunistic.”
Kian moved closer, his gaze intense. “And the final piece, the nuclear option. The footage. We call that ‘The Moral Collapse.’ We have to use it last, Amelia. It’s highly sensitive. We only deploy it if the Elders try to shield Zoran, or if Theodora tries to claim ignorance or innocence.”
“It has to be the decisive blow,” Amelia agreed, her expression steely. “The Elders tolerate corruption, but they won’t tolerate the dishonor of a future King plotting with the exiled daughter of a previous regime while committing adultery. The date of the footage, proving their affair predated my engagement, is what voids everything Zoran Vane has done. He broke the sacred marriage trust. He is discredited.”
For the next two days, they refined every argument, rehearsing Amelia’s presentation and Kian’s external protocols. Kian contacted loyal regional Alphas, discreetly preparing a political defense perimeter. Should the Elders attempt to detain Amelia or seize her assets after the hearing, Kian would initiate a coordinated, public denouncement of Zoran Vane and Theodora, using the initial financial evidence to justify a swift shift in the political landscape.
On Friday morning, Amelia was dressed in deep emerald—the color of confidence and authority—with the inconspicuous data pad secured beneath her jacket.
“I don’t like this,” Kian repeated, pulling her into a fierce, protective embrace.
“You are the Alpha King. You stay here. The Pack needs its King,” Amelia murmured, her resolve absolute. “They think they are humiliating me. They are wrong. I’m going there to humiliate them. We need to cut the cancer out of the Citadel, and I have the scalpel.”
Amelia looked one last time at the data pad. She had her victory weapon. The two days of preparation were over. Now, she would walk into the Citadel and execute the purge.