The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42 The Frist Wave

The world, as it turned out, did not operate on Kieran Nethys’s schedule.

In the cliffside fortress, the morning after the press conference was not spent monitoring news feeds or crafting rebuttals. It was spent in the slow, grueling aftermath of a medical siege. Drakonius was in the grip of the protocol’s first wave of side effects–a deep, bone–aching fatigue that left him listless and pale, and a persistent, low–grade fever that made his skin clammy to the touch.

Elera was a constant, quiet presence. She moved between the lab, analyzing the first trickle of post- procedure data, and the dimmed room where he rested, her fingers often finding his wrist to count the stubborn, rapid pulse. She spoke to him in a low, clinical murmur, explaining what each new ache might mean, what each spike on the monitor represented. It was not comfort she offered, but information. And in his world of crumbling control, information was the only comfort that mattered.

Simon brought a tablet into the room just past noon, his face carefully neutral. “Mr. Vex. You should see this.”

Drakonius, propped up on a mountain of pillows, opened his eyes. They were glassy with fever, but the sharp intelligence was still there. He took the tablet.

On the screen was a news clip, already going viral. Kieran Nethys, in his full, performative glory, preaching his gospel of paternal forgiveness and dynastic triumph. The shot of the single tear. The proud proclamation: “She is now married to a man of such immense character and standing…”

Drakonius watched it to the end without a flicker of expression. When it finished, he handed the tablet back to Simon. “Thank you.”

That was all. No outrage. No command to release a statement. Just… thank you.

Elera, who had watched over his shoulder, felt a cold fury settle in her stomach. Her father was using them. He was weaving a public narrative of a happy family reunion, leveraging Drakonius’s feared name to restore his own status, all without their consent. He was turning their desperate, private pact into his own publicity stunt.

“He’s lying,” she said, her voice tight. “He’s making it sound like you gave him your blessing. Like this is some… some joyful union of families.”

Drakonius turned his head slowly on the pillow to look at her. The fever made his eyes look like smoke, “Is he “He said he spoke to me! That we reconciled! He’s painting himself as the gracious patriarch welcoming you into the fold!”

“And what would you have me do, Elera?” His voice was a dry rasp, but utterly calm. “Send my lawyers! Issue a press release stating that my father–in–law is a manipulative opportunist? That would only confirm his story–it would mean I am engaging. It would mean I care what he says. And more importantly, it would drag you, and the nature of our arrangement, into the spotlight for dissection.”

He paused, drawing a shallow breath. “Your father is a guat. He is buzzing around a lion, thinking the noise he makes is power. The lion does not swat at gnats. It ignores them. To swat is to acknowledge they are worth the effort.”

The analogy was so perfectly him—cold, arrogant, and probably right. But it stung. “So we just let him profit from this? Let him use your name?”

‘He is not using my name,” Drakonius corrected softly. “He is using the idea of my name. The specter. The mystery. It is a phantom currency, and he can spend it only in rooms where real power does not reside. The people who matter, the ones whose opinions could actually affect us, will see his performance for what it is: a desperate man clinging to a cliff edge by his fingertips, using his daughter’s marriage as a rope.” He closed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion visibly passing through him. “Let him have his rope. When the ime comes, we will see if it bears his weight.”

A stunning reversal from Kieran Nethys… If the connection to Vex Industries is solidified, it could change the entire landscape…”

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