The Last Heir Of The Van Declaoria Bloodline - Chapter 6

The house had never felt this quiet before.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the streets of Arlein damp and silent beneath a pale midnight sky. The air smelled of wet asphalt and distant storm clouds slowly drifting away.

Inside the small house at the edge of the district, only one light remained on.

Lieta Van Declaoria sat alone in the kitchen.

The events of the last twenty-four hours had not allowed her a moment of rest.

The explosion.

The burning vehicle.

The news reports repeating the same line again and again.

**Regna Mileron — presumed dead.**

Lieta stared at the cold cup of coffee in front of her.

Her expression remained calm.

But inside her mind, calculations were moving faster than ever.

Across the room, the television screen showed silent footage of the highway explosion.

She had already watched it three times.

Not because she believed the report.

But because she wanted to know how well the illusion had worked.

The Van Declaoria family believed the heir was gone.

And that belief was useful.

Very useful.

Lieta reached forward and turned the television off.

The house fell into silence again.

Then—

The phone rang.

A sharp sound.

Unexpected.

The old landline phone resting on the kitchen counter had not rung in years.

Lieta slowly turned toward it.

The ringing continued.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Very few people even knew this number existed.

She stood up and walked toward the phone.

For a moment she simply stared at it.

Then she picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

There was silence on the other end.

Just the faint sound of breathing.

Then a voice spoke.

Soft.

Calm.

Familiar.

“How are you, Lieta?”

The moment she heard the voice, her body froze.

Her fingers tightened slowly around the receiver.

That voice.

That accent.

Impossible.

“…You.”

A quiet chuckle came from the other side.

“I’m glad to hear you still recognize me.”

Lieta’s eyes hardened.

“You should be dead.”

The man laughed softly.

“Many people have said that about me.”

The voice carried the same calm arrogance she remembered from decades ago.

A voice that had ruled the Van Declaoria council through manipulation and patience.

Ewan Van Declaoria.

Her uncle.

The bastard son the family once tried to hide.

And now the most powerful man in the entire dynasty.

“What do you want?” Lieta asked coldly.

Ewan ignored the question.

“I saw the news.”

“The explosion was quite dramatic.”

Lieta said nothing.

Ewan continued.

“The entire city believes the last heir of our family died tonight.”

His tone carried faint amusement.

“Tragic.”

Lieta’s voice dropped lower.

“You didn’t call to discuss the news.”

“No,” Ewan replied.

“I called because I know you.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then he said quietly:

“You’re already planning your next move.”

Lieta walked slowly toward the window.

The street outside remained empty.

“And you called to stop me?”

Ewan laughed again.

“No.”

“I called to see how the game begins.”

---

High above the city, the Van Declaoria Tower pierced the night sky.

On the highest floor, the council chamber glowed under dim lights.

Five figures gathered around the long black marble table.

Silver hair glimmered under the pale ceiling lamps.

The emblem of the family hung behind them.

A golden **V surrounded by thorned branches.**

Ewan stood at the head of the table, still holding the phone.

Around him sat the next generation of the Van Declaoria bloodline.

Ludwig Van Declaoria leaned against the table.

Tall.

Cold.

Sharp-eyed.

Luke.

Ewan’s son.

And the man many believed would inherit the entire dynasty.

Next to him sat Leticia Van Declaoria.

Leti.

Lieta’s second younger sister.

Unlike Lieta, Leticia had never tried to escape the family.

She embraced its cruelty.

Its power.

Its traditions.

Across from her stood Herlucia Van Declaoria.

Lucia.

The third sister.

Quiet.

Observant.

Dangerous in ways the others rarely noticed.

And beside the window sat Emerald Van Declaoria.

Amy.

Ludwig’s younger sister.

Her emerald eyes watched everything with playful curiosity.

To her, the entire conflict felt almost entertaining.

Ewan lowered the phone slowly.

“She’s calm,” he said.

Luke smirked.

“Of course she is.”

“She always was.”

Leticia crossed her arms.

“So the war finally begins.”

Lucia spoke quietly.

“It began the moment we targeted her son.”

Amy tilted her head slightly.

“I’m still curious about the child.”

Her emerald eyes glowed faintly under the lights.

“Generation four.”

The room fell silent.

Ewan finally sat down.

“Yes.”

“The next evolution of the bloodline.”

---

Back in the quiet house, Lieta slowly returned the receiver to the phone.

Her hand remained on it for several seconds.

Ewan had not called to threaten her.

He had called to provoke her.

Which meant only one thing.

The Van Declaoria council had already begun moving.

Her eyes moved toward the metal cabinet in the hallway.

The documents inside suddenly felt heavier than before.

Project Argentum.

The experiments.

The bloodline.

And the note about **Generation Four**.

Alena.

“They know,” Lieta whispered.

Outside, the wind moved softly through the trees.

For thirty years she had hidden from the Van Declaoria family.

But that time was over.

Now the war had finally returned.

Lieta reached for her coat hanging near the door.

Her movements were calm.

Deliberate.

She stepped outside into the cold night air.

The sky above Arlein was clear now.

But storms rarely announced themselves when they arrived.

Sometimes they began quietly.

Like a chess game played in the dark.

Lieta looked toward the distant skyline of the Van Declaoria Tower.

Her silver hair shimmered under the pale moonlight.

“Dear uncle,” she whispered softly.

“You think the heir is dead.”

A faint smile appeared.

“But you forgot something.”

She opened the car door and stepped inside.

The engine started quietly.

And as the car rolled away from the silent house, Lieta spoke one final sentence into the empty night.

“The Van Declaoria bloodline was never meant to destroy the world.”

Her eyes hardened as the road stretched into darkness.

“It was meant to destroy itself.”

And somewhere far away in the mountains…

a man long believed dead was slowly opening his eyes.