The two figures moved toward the grand drawing room, their steps measured yet tense. The air inside was thick, heavy with an unspoken charge, as if the walls themselves had absorbed the weight of past conflicts. Olivia, ever graceful, dipped into a refined curtsy, her voice smooth but laced with a quiet edge.
"Your Majesty."
The Empress, seated elegantly on a velvet chaise, turned her head at the sound, momentarily distracted from the soft giggles of the child nestled in her arms. With a slow, deliberate motion, she handed the little girl over to Kael, her expression hardening as she picked up the folded newspaper resting beside her. Without preamble, she lifted it, the bold, damning headline staring Olivia in the face.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Olivia barely glanced at the paper, her expression one of studied indifference. With a light shrug, she replied, "I wouldn't know. This is the first time I'm seeing it, just as you are."
The Empress's eyes darkened. "Are you telling me you had no hand in this disgrace? No part in this scandal that now stains our family name?"
A slow, almost mocking smile curved Olivia's lips. "No. I had nothing to do with it."
The room seemed to exhale in the moment of silence that followed—right before the sharp crack of a slap shattered it. The force of the strike sent Olivia's head snapping to the side, her cheek burning under the weight of royal fury. Gasps rippled through the room, servants and courtiers frozen in shock.
The Empress lifted her hand again, intent on delivering a second blow, but before she could, a strong hand shot out, seizing her wrist mid-air.
"What do you think you're doing, Your Majesty?"
The voice was steel, cutting through the room like a blade. Matthais, the Duke of Lucron, had moved with lightning speed, one arm drawing Olivia protectively against his chest while the other held the Empress's wrist in an iron grip. His stormy eyes burned into hers, his anger barely leashed.
The Empress's face remained composed, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. "Stay out of this, Your Grace. I am disciplining my daughter—teaching her the consequences of deceit and betrayal. Release me."
Matthais did not relent. His jaw tightened, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. "She is my wife. Here, she is not your daughter—she is the Duchess of Lucron. And you will remember that before you raise your hand against her again."
Olivia, still cradling her stinging cheek, slowly reached up and placed a hand over Matthais's, urging him to let go. Her voice, though quiet, carried the weight of unshaken defiance.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty, for my lack of proper decorum. It seems growing up without a mother left me with no one to teach me such graces."
Her words were a dagger, slipping effortlessly between the cracks of the Empress's armor. For a brief second, something flickered—pain, regret, a ghost of emotion long buried. But Olivia did not stop.
"But as my husband has said, I stand here not as your daughter, but as the Duchess of Lucron. And I would advise you to remember that. After all, I doubt you wish to see the royal family at odds with the most powerful duchy in the empire."
The room held its breath, waiting, watching, as mother and daughter faced each other—one a sovereign, the other a rising force of her own. The battle lines had been drawn.
The tension in the room thickened, a storm brewing in the silence. The Empress, her patience fraying, sank onto her gilded chair, pressing her fingers against her temple. The weight of expectation and scandal bore down upon her, and all eyes remained fixed on her, awaiting her decree.
"Well?" she finally spoke, her voice taut. "Does anyone have a solution to this disgraceful affair?"
A voice cut through the silence, sharp and unwavering.
"What do you mean, Mother?" Kael's frustration crackled in the air. "I am already married to Leila. There is no scandal—only the fact that I did not announce it sooner."
The Empress turned to him, her gaze cold and severe. "Are you telling me to accept that the Crown Prince of this empire has married a commoner? Impossible. And a physician, no less?" Her tone dripped with disdain. "Women belong in the home, serving their husbands—not meddling in matters beyond their station."
Kael's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with barely restrained fury. "But I love her."
For the first time that evening, the Empress softened. A flicker of something almost maternal crossed her face before it vanished beneath the weight of duty. "I can accept her as a concubine," she conceded, as though offering a gift. "But first, we must address this situation before it spirals further out of control."
Kael's fury exploded. "A concubine?" His voice rang through the chamber, raw and incredulous. "She is my wife, Mother. How can I ask her to be anything less? How can I strip her of her dreams? Do you think so little of me? That I would ask the woman I love to abandon everything she has worked for? Even if she were a gypsy, I would still love her!"
"Kael!" The Empress's voice cracked like a whip. "You are the Crown Prince! You must know your place!"
But he did not falter. Instead, he met her glare with steady defiance, his next words spoken with chilling certainty.
"Then I will no longer be the Crown Prince."
The air in the room turned razor-sharp, the weight of his declaration sinking into every soul present.
"If being the heir means sacrificing my happiness, then I renounce it." His voice was firm, resolute. "I will live with my wife and my daughter, and I will not care for anything else."
Before anyone could stop him, Kael strode forward, scooping up his child with careful hands. His movements were controlled, but his fury was unmistakable. Without sparing another glance at his mother, he turned on his heel and marched out.
"Kael!" The Empress's voice rang with desperation now, her imperious facade cracking. "Kael! Return this instant!"
But he did not.
The doors slammed behind him, and silence fell—a silence so absolute it felt deafening.
The Empress, her face now an unreadable mask, turned toward Matthais. When she spoke, her voice was devoid of warmth, stripped of all emotion.
"Duke of Lucron," she said coolly. "I expect you to resolve this matter before it escalates further."
Matthais met her gaze without flinching. A pause, then a slow nod.
"As you command, Your Majesty. I will do what I can."
As the grand doors of the palace swung open, the Empress stepped out, her regal silhouette illuminated by the torches lining the courtyard. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her frustration. Behind her, the Duke and Duchess of Lucron stood at the threshold, offering a formal farewell.
As the carriage carrying the Empress disappeared into the night, Olivia turned toward Matthaios, her voice low but edged with suspicion.
"Matthais… is it possible that you were the one who leaked the news to the press?"
Her husband scoffed, crossing his arms. "You think I would drag my own sister's honor through the mud?" His voice was laced with irritation. "They're claiming she was a mistress… that she bore an illegitimate child. Do you truly believe I would allow such disgrace to taint her name?"
Hearing his response, Olivia felt her suspicions waver. With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and made her way toward her chambers. But as she walked, her mind swirled with questions.
"If not him, then who?"
Settling onto the velvet sofa in her dimly lit room, Olivia let her thoughts consume her. "Who would have the most to gain from revealing Kael and Leila's secret marriage? And more importantly… how does this all tie back to my father?"
She clenched her fingers against the armrest. Only a handful of people had known about Kael and Leila's relationship.
"Matthais and I can be ruled out. And Leon? No, he would never endanger his own sister. That leaves only one person..."
A name surfaced in her mind.
"Isabella."
Her eyes darkened with determination.
"If Isabella is behind this, I will find out."
She turned sharply toward the door.
"Kira, come here."
The servant girl arrived swiftly, her posture obedient as she stood before Olivia.
"Yes, My Lady? What do you require?"
Without a word, Olivia reached for two small pouches and placed them onto the table. The soft clinking of gold coins filled the room.
"Why do you work as a servant here?"
Kira's expression flickered with sorrow before she answered hesitantly. "My father passed away, and I must provide for my sick mother and younger siblings." Her voice wavered, the pain of her circumstances evident.
Olivia leaned forward slightly, her tone turning almost… indulgent.
"Then tell me, Kira… would this amount be enough to treat your mother's illness?"
Kira's eyes widened. "W-What?"
Olivia's smile was unreadable. "I asked if this gold would be enough to feed your siblings and heal your mother."
There was a long silence before Kira finally nodded, her voice a whisper. "Yes… it would be more than enough." But uncertainty flickered in her eyes, as if she still did not understand the purpose of this sudden generosity.
Olivia lifted the pouch and placed it firmly in the girl's trembling hands.
"Then it is yours."
Kira gasped before falling to her knees in gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace! Thank you!"
Olivia raised a hand, stopping her. "Enough thanks, Kira. I have another offer for you." A smirk curled on her lips. "I could give you the second pouch as well… but it depends on whether or not you accept a request from me."
Kira nodded frantically. "Anything, My Lady! Just command me!"
Olivia tilted her head, studying the girl's eagerness.
"You've been working here for quite some time, haven't you? You must know the habits of every servant. I need you to find out something for me."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Isabella… does she receive letters sealed with the emblem of a butterfly?"
Kira blinked in confusion before realization dawned on her. Olivia continued smoothly, "You are free to refuse if this request makes you uncomfortable."
But Kira's eyes lit up with determination. "I promise, My Lady! You will have your answer before the night is over!"
Olivia smiled, pleased. "I knew I could trust you. Take the second pouch, then. Consider it a token of my confidence."
Kira grasped the pouch tightly, her face glowing with excitement as she hurried out of the room.
Once the door shut behind her, Olivia leaned back against the sofa, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.
"Well, Isabella… everyone thinks you are an angel. But tonight, we shall see your true nature."