Chapter 12: Unseen Sabotage
Days passed after Dorian's silent return from the drawing room, and the tension seemed to hang in the air like a lingering fog that would not lift. Emilia couldn't shake the sense of unease that now clung to every interaction with Dorian. He was there, but his attention was fractured. Lyla's shadow loomed over them, always just beyond reach, watching, waiting. It wasn't just the words Lyla had spoken, or the way she had intruded upon the delicate balance Emilia had tried to create with Dorian—it was the subtle but undeniable presence of competition.
It was always a mansion, but it felt colder, more unreachable. Every creak of the floor, every flicker of the lights, seemed to echo the uncertainty that had seeped into their once tranquil home. The house was still as imposing as ever, but now it felt like a battleground-with every glance, every quiet exchange between Emilia and Dorian charged with something neither of them fully understood.
That evening, as the soft sound of rain pattered against the windowpanes, Emilia was nervously preparing a light dinner for Dorian in the kitchen. She had prayed that the time they were spending together would let the dust settle, that at least there would be calm between what had been growing for tension. She knew the quiet would break the moment she stepped into the grand dining room.
As she set the last dish on the table, the sound of footsteps grew louder. Her heart skipped, and she tried to steady her breathing, telling herself it was just dinner. Nothing more. But when the door opened, it wasn't Dorian who walked in.
Lyla.
Emilia froze, her hand still resting on the edge of the table, a fork in her grip. Lyla's smile was faultless as she stepped into the room, her eyes homing in on Emilia immediately.
"Well, well," Lyla's voice was sweet, but there was no mistaking the venom underscoring it. "I see Dorian's newest little plaything has been busy cooking dinner. How. quaint.
Emilia's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain composed. "This isn't for you," she said, her voice steady, though there was a flicker of unease. "You should leave.
Lyla laughed, a low, melodic sound that didn't match the acuteness of her gaze. "Oh, darling, so dramatic. I'm not here to stay. Still, I love to know how far you're going to go for someone who doesn't even care whether you live or die.
Emilia clenched her jaw, fighting back the surge of anger that rose in her chest. She knew Lyla was trying to provoke her, but the words still stung.
"I don't know what game you're playing, but it's not going to work," Emilia said, her voice firm despite the anxiety swirling in her stomach.
Lyla stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "Is that so? Dorian hasn't exactly been hiding the way he looks at you, has he?" She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "But you're naive if you think that's enough to keep him. You're nothing more than a distraction, Emilia.
Emilia's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding. She wanted to tell Lyla off, to shut her down completely, but the words wouldn't come. Every insult felt like a knot tightening in her chest. She had never been this out of her depth before.
Before she could answer, the door to the dining room opened, and Dorian stepped inside. Immediately, his gaze flicked between the two women, a flash of confusion crossing his face before it hardened into something more guarded.
"Lyla," he said, his voice low, "what are you doing here?"
Lyla didn't hesitate. She took a step forward, her eyes never leaving Emilia's. "I was just admiring your housemaid's cooking skills," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I was curious, Dorian, if she can keep up with someone like you."
Emilia's pulse raced at the implication. She knew what Lyla was doing-stirring the pot, trying to create doubt.
Dorian's jaw constricted and turned to Emilia. "I didn't invite her, Emilia," he said more sharply than was customary. "You don't have to listen to anything she says.
Emilia swallowed hard, trying to mask the hurt that crept up on her. She wasn't sure if it was the way Dorian had spoken to her, or the way Lyla had so easily slipped into their space, that made everything feel so much worse.
Lyla wasn't done, though. "I think Emilia's the one who needs to hear the truth, don't you?" she said, continuing with a soft whisper that shot chills down Emilia's spine. "You might think he's your protector, your Prince Charming, but you're only here because he wants something from you. You won't last, Emilia. You'll never be enough for him.
The words struck Emilia like a slap, and for a moment, she felt the air had been knocked from her lungs. Her mind raced, the weight of Lyla's words settling into her heart like a stone. What was she trying to say?
Dorian's face darkened, and before Emilia could say anything, he moved a step forward, his voice low but commanding. "Enough, Lyla. I have told you to leave. Now.
But Lyla only smiled, unmoving by his warning. "Of course. I'll leave you to your little dinner, Dorian. But remember, Emilia," she said, her eyes locking onto Emilia's, "I was only trying to warn you. You're playing with fire, and you'll get burned."
With that, Lyla turned and left the room, her heels clicking sharply as she made her way down the hall.
Dorian stood in the doorway, staring after her, his jaw clenched in frustration. When he finally turned to face Emilia, his expression softened, though there was still a storm behind his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Emilia swallowed as her mind racing. She didn't know what to feel, how to react. She wanted to believe him, to believe Lyla was nothing but a ghost from his past, but this doubt she'd been pushing down now surfaced.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," she admitted, her voice no more than a whisper.
One step closer, overwhelming by sheer presence, yet gentleness filtered his firm capture of her hand as Dorian reached for it. "Emilia, I care for you," he softly whispered, his intense tone evident, while reassuring. "Let not her words shake thee off your guards, just believe me.
But in the silence that followed, Emilia wasn't so sure. Lyla was like a constant reminder of a world she wasn't part of, one that threatened to spill over into everything she thought she knew about Dorian and her connection with him.
The tension between the three of them-Dorian, Emilia, and Lyla-only continued to build. Lyla had made it clear she would not go down without a fight. But Emilia was not so sure if she was strong enough to hold onto what she had with Dorian when the past seemed so determined to tear them asunder.