Chapter 27: A Judge Had Been Bought

The judge's name was Lucian Voss.

Senior Moon Court adjudicator.

Forty years of legal experience.

Public reputation: spotless.

Private bank records: not so spotless.

Knox arrived with copies of transfers routed through three shell companies.

Cassian examined them.

"How did you get this?"

"Stormridge financial intelligence."

"Meaning illegally?"

"Meaning don't ask."

Rowan took the files.

"We can't submit illegally obtained evidence directly."

"Then use it to trigger a lawful audit."

Knox looked at me.

"That's why I brought it."

I studied him.

"Why are you helping me?"

His mouth tightened.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"Yes."

He looked away.

"Partly because I still want you back."

Rowan's expression darkened.

"Bad start."

"I'm not talking to you."

I raised a hand.

"Continue."

"And partly because this is bigger than us."

Knox exhaled.

"My grandfather died investigating these people. If Marcus Vale and Vael were involved, I want the truth."

That I could respect.

"Then help with the truth," I said.

"Not with winning me."

His face tightened.

"I know."

Rowan's legal team anonymously triggered a financial integrity review.

Within twenty-four hours, Judge Voss was removed from my case.

The Moon Court publicly called it a routine reassignment.

Nobody in our group believed that.

Then something even stranger happened.

Silvercrest withdrew Elodie as alternative claimant.

I found out from the official filing.

I called her.

"Did you do this?"

"Yes."

"Your father agreed?"

"No."

"Then how?"

"The claimant has to consent."

She sounded exhausted but determined.

"I refused."

"Elodie..."

"Don't thank me."

"I was going to."

"Don't. I'm not doing you a favor. I'm refusing to be used."

I smiled.

"Fine. I won't thank you."

"Good."

Pause.

"But you're welcome."

I laughed.

The hearing remained scheduled.

Silvercrest shifted strategy.

Instead of proposing Elodie, they argued that Mom's renunciation ended our branch's succession rights entirely.

Mireya disagreed.

"Renunciation removes an individual's claim. It doesn't erase unborn descendants unless specifically stated."

Mom frowned.

"I signed under another name."

"Even better," Rowan's lawyer said.

"The document may not be legally valid."

For the first time, things looked hopeful.

Then Cassian received a message.

No sender.

Only one line.

[Withdraw the claim or the surviving Lunaris names become public.]

Everyone went silent.

Lyra turned pale.

"They'll expose us."

Garrick swore.

Mireya gripped her cane.

I looked at Cassian.

"Can they?"

"They know enough names already."

"What happens if those names go public?"

"Old enemies may find families we've kept hidden."

My stomach tightened.

Suddenly the decision wasn't about land.

It was about people.

"Maybe I should withdraw."

"No," Cassian said immediately.

"You just said people could get hurt."

"They'll keep using that threat forever."

"They're threatening families."

Mireya spoke quietly.

"Nessa."

I looked at her.

"We spent eighteen years hiding so the next generation might have a choice."

"And?"

"If you surrender your choice to protect ours, then hiding achieved nothing."

I hated the logic.

"What do the survivors want?"

Cassian looked around.

"We ask them."

Over encrypted calls, one by one, the remaining hidden Lunaris descendants answered.

Some were terrified.

Some wanted nothing to do with the Pack.

Some cried when they saw me.

But when asked whether I should withdraw, not one said yes.

A middle-aged woman living under another name told me:

"If Lunaris returns, let it return without fear."

That night, I signed the final hearing declaration.

I would not withdraw.

Minutes later, the anonymous account sent another message.

[Then whatever happens next is on you.]