The moment Emperor Adrian, Vivian, and her husband, Duke Leonard, took their seats, an attendant swiftly approached, placing a set of documents before Vivian and Leonard. Without hesitation, he handed them each a pen.
Leonard's gaze fell upon the documents, and the realization of what they have immediately soured his mood. Even though he had long wished for this divorce, something about the situation left a bitter taste in his mouth. He expected discussions—negotiations, at the very least—but the fact that the emperor had anticipated their separation to the point of having the papers prepared before their arrival made him feel as though his role in the matter was inconsequential.
Divorces among the nobility were never simple affairs. There were procedures to follow, settlements to discuss, and considerations of political and financial implications. Yet, in this case, the emperor had seemingly bypassed all formalities as if their marriage had never held any weight to begin with.
He should have felt relief. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?
And yet, why did it feel like he was being cast aside like an afterthought?
Across from him, Emperor Adrian regarded him with a cold, unreadable expression.
"Since my niece has finally decided to divorce you, I see no reason to prolong the matter," the emperor said, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of a ruler. He gestured to the document before them. "The properties listed will serve as her settlement, and I assume the duke has no objections."
It wasn't a request. It was a statement—a challenge, even.
Leonard's eyes flicked to the list. He had told Vivian just last night that she could have whatever she wished as compensation, so the extensive terms did not come as a surprise. The estate they currently lived in was included, along with several lucrative businesses and properties under his name—holdings that were well-known even beyond their kingdom. The selections weren't random.
Leonard knew how much Vivian loved their estate; he had always known. She had poured her heart into making it her home, and now, as he saw it written before him, it was clear that she would remain there while he would be the one to leave.
And that, at least, made sense. Vivian had always loved the estate. It was more than just a home to her—it was a place of comfort, a place filled with memories she cherished. If she was going to walk away from this marriage, at least she would not have to part with the one thing she truly adored.
Still, something about this whole affair felt off. Vivian's fingers lightly brushed against the emperor's sleeve, a subtle attempt to gain his attention, but Adrian didn't acknowledge her. His focus remained solely on Leonard, watching, waiting.
Leonard exhaled slowly, pushing down the irritation bubbling within him. He picked up the pen but did not sign. Instead, he said evenly, "I have no complaints, Your Majesty. As I've already assured the duchess, she may have whatever she desires. However…" His gaze lifted, meeting the emperor's sharp eyes. "Would it not have been more appropriate to wait for our decision before drafting these documents?"
The air in the room shifted.
A deadly silence fell over them as the emperor's expression hardened.
"Are you implying that my decision was wrong?" Adrian's voice was low, deceptively calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
His tone was deceptively calm, but the unspoken threat beneath it was unmistakable.
Leonard did not flinch.
He had already noticed the emperor's earlier irritation—subtle but unmistakable—when he had referred to Vivian as the duchess rather than the princess. To Adrian, Vivian had never truly been the Duchess of Valerion. She had always been the emperor's beloved niece first and foremost, and Leonard's wife only in name.
That realization stung more than he cared to admit.
Leonard knew that tone well. It was the voice of a ruler accustomed to absolute authority—a man who did not tolerate defiance. The unspoken threat lingered between them, heavy like a blade pressed to one's throat.
Leonard, however, was not a man easily intimidated.
"Of course not, Your Majesty." He remained composed, meeting the emperor's glare head-on. "However, what if the duchess wished to amend the settlement? What if she did not agree with all the terms? Should we not at least allow her the opportunity to make those decisions for herself?"
The emperor's fingers curled into a fist beneath the table. That arrogant bastard.
Leonard wasn't a fool. He had worded his response carefully—respectful, yet direct. It was a clever way of pointing out that the emperor had acted unilaterally in a matter that directly affected Vivian. Was the duke subtly implying that he was being unreasonable?
He was already irritated when Leonard had addressed Vivian as the duchess—as if she were still his wife, as if the divorce was not about to happen. Now, he had the audacity to challenge him, to question the manner in which he had arranged this entire matter. Did this fool not understand that he had already been too lenient? That Leonard was fortunate to walk out of this marriage with his title and his life intact?
For a brief moment, Adrian contemplated whether it would be worth the effort to end the duke right here, in this very chamber.
It was his niece who was involved. His family's reputation is on the line. And yet, this man—who had failed to be a proper husband—was now suggesting that Adrian had mishandled the situation?
He was sorely tempted to throw the damn documents in Leonard's face.
His gaze flicked to Vivian, expecting her support. But to his surprise, she remained silent, focused on her tea, as if completely detached from the battle of wills unfolding between them.
She let out a slow, measured breath, bringing her teacup to her lips as if she had no part in this conflict. But in truth, she was holding back an exasperated sigh.
In truth, Vivian was well aware of the unspoken war raging across the table. Watching the two men, she found herself wondering—who was actually getting divorced here?
Because it certainly did not feel like it was her and Leonard.
Her father and her soon-to-be ex-husband sat opposite each other, each locked in a battle for dominance, making decisions as if she weren't even present. It was infuriating.
Wasn't she the one getting divorced?
She was the one married to Leonard, not her imperial father. She was the one who had shared years of her life with this man, not Adrian. And yet, they were both acting as if her opinions didn't matter, as if this was a transaction to be settled between them.
And for once, she found herself agreeing with Leonard.
Her father had made a mistake.
Yes, the settlement was favorable. Yes, he had acted in what he believed was her best interest. But that did not change the fact that he had made these decisions for her instead of with her.
Vivian set her teacup down with a soft clink, finally drawing their attention.
Both men turned to look at her, their unspoken argument momentarily paused.
She took a deep breath, then spoke—her voice measured, yet firm.
"I believe," she said slowly, "that I should have a say in the terms of my own divorce."
The tension in the room grew palpable.
Leonard hid his smirk behind a neutral expression, while the emperor's jaw clenched. Vivian did not miss the way his fingers tightened against the armrest of his chair.
This was going to be a long discussion.
She sighed internally. No matter how much her imperial father loved her, he was still a man of control. His desire to protect her had led him to act as if he were the one ending this marriage, as if he were the wronged party.
But this was her life.
And, she would like to have a say in it.