After the peaceful morning in the Duke Garden pavilion, the Valerion couple finally decided to leave, stepping away from the fleeting tranquility that had wrapped around them like an illusion. It was as if both of them had silently agreed not to do anything to spoil or destroy the mood, allowing themselves this one final moment of quiet before stepping into their new reality—their divorce.
No harsh words. No accusations. No lingering resentment was spoken aloud.
Just silence.
A marriage that had once been a force unshakable by the outside world would now be undone. And though they had both agreed to it, the weight of their decision pressed down like an invisible force neither could ignore.
In the Leuhtaz Empire, a noble divorce was not a simple act of separation. It was a carefully orchestrated legal and social process that could take anywhere from two weeks to a full month, depending on the circumstances of the separation.
For many nobles who had ever filed for a divorce, divorce was a battle of wills, a tedious affair where one or both parties resisted the final severing of their bond. Some dragged it out for months, hoping for reconciliation or more favorable terms, while others were caught in the slow-moving bureaucracy of noble law.
But there were exceptions.
Influential families, traitors, criminals—cases involving them rarely followed the usual rules.
For those with power, the process could be completed in less than a week. If one spouse was convicted of a capital offense, the marriage was dissolved almost instantly, a mere formality before they were cast aside—sometimes even executed.
For the nobility, marriage was a contract of benefits, and divorce was merely the termination of that contract.
If a noble family deemed that a spouse had become a liability, they would not hesitate to arrange for a swift separation to preserve their own name. Honor mattered only so long as it did not damage one's standing in society.
The noble class of Leuhtaz was built on transactions.
Everything—**people, status, alliances—**had a price.
And if something no longer held value, it was discarded.
Despite their disdain for divorce, the same nobles who condemned it would not hesitate to pursue it if their circumstances called for it. If their spouse became a burden or a threat to their ambitions, they would not hesitate to sever ties.
Some would even sell their partners out if doing so promised greater rewards.
This was the reality of a noble society.
They did not believe in love.
They believed in worth.
And in such a world, only the valuable survived.
Leonard and Vivian knew they would have no trouble finalizing their divorce.
Not only were they both influential, but their divorce was mutually desired.
And then there was the Emperor, Vivian's uncle, the one man who would see to it that their separation happened as quickly as possible.
The Emperor had never wanted this marriage.
From the moment Vivian was born and he had lost his only sister, seeing the child that looked like her and had lost her mother, he wanted to give her all the best things in the world, he had made it clear that her hand belonged to no one but his son—the Crown Prince.
Her marriage to Leonard had been a mistake, a miscalculation that he had been forced to accept.
Now, that mistake would finally be erased.
The thought left a bitter taste in Leonard's mouth.
Even though he had chosen this, even though he had no right to care, the idea of the Emperor's satisfaction made something deep within him twist in resentment.
And yet, there was nothing he could do.
Or so he told himself.
If there were a way to keep Vivian out of the Emperor's reach, Leonard would take it without hesitation.
If there were a way to keep her hidden from the Crown Prince, from the greedy hands of noble suitors, from a future he did not want to imagine—he would do it.
A reckless, dark thought formed in his mind.
He could hide her away.
Somewhere secret.
Somewhere only he would know.
He could create a clone—a deception for the world to see—while keeping the real Vivian locked away, untouched by the machinations of the Emperor or any other greedy hand.
A life where it would be only the two of them, away from the expectations of the court, away from the judgment of society.
Just her and him.
But she would hate him for it.
She would despise him.
Even now, he could feel his thoughts slipping into places they shouldn't go.
He needed to control himself.
Lately, his emotions had been out of his hands.
And it was dangerous.
Vivian's lady-in-waiting, Anna, escorted her to the carriage, her expression cold as she caught sight of Leonard.
If looks could kill, Leonard was certain she would have struck him down on the spot.
He ignored her, instead focusing on Vivian, who stood poised and unreadable as ever.
"My lady," he said, offering his hand.
Vivian hesitated for just a moment before placing her fingers in his.
Leonard guided her into the carriage with deliberate gentleness, his grip light yet firm.
He did not need to look at Anna to know that she was glaring at him.
But she would not have the chance to interrupt.
Leonard had already planned for this.
Two carriages had been prepared.
Anna would take the second with Alaric.
She would not be allowed to interfere in what little time he had left with his wife.
As the carriage began to move, silence filled the space between them.
Vivian did not look at him.
And for once, Leonard did not try to meet her gaze.
Earlier that morning after they left the garden, Alaric had stopped him.
As Leonard walked through the halls of his estate, heading toward his office, Alaric's voice had cut through the silence.
"Leonard."
Not Master. Not Duke Valerion.
Simply Leonard.
A sign that what he was about to say was not as a servant, but as a friend.
Leonard turned to face him.
They stood beneath the flickering torchlight of the corridor, the shadow of an old imperial painting looming over them.
"Yes?"
Alaric hesitated for only a moment before speaking.
"I feel like you should not proceed with this divorce."
Leonard's expression did not change, but his eyes darkened slightly.
He had expected this.
Alaric had never approved of his decision to let Vivian go.
But this time, there was something different in his voice.
Something urgent.
"And why is that, Alaric?"
Alaric exhaled before speaking the words Leonard had been trying not to think about.
"The war is ending soon. The Crown Prince is coming back."
Leonard said nothing.
But something shifted in the air.
"I suspect the Emperor is going to use the victory celebrations to announce Vivian's engagement to the Crown Prince," Alaric continued.
Leonard's fingers curled into a fist at his side.
That old man.
Of course, he wouldn't wait.
Alaric's voice dropped lower.
"From my conversation with Lady Anna in the garden, it seems like they want to get Princess Vivian engaged as early as possible."
A beat of silence.
Leonard's response came calmly, but with a quiet finality.
"Then I will make sure that Vivian does not fall in love with another man."
Because at the end of the day, it was her choice.
And he would make sure that she would choose no one.