Seraphina sat in silence, her gaze distant as she watched her husband, Alastair, and Viviane—the woman who had stolen not just his affection, but her place in the duchy—standing side by side in the fitting room. The tailor fidgeted nervously behind them, but Seraphina hardly noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in the maze of thoughts that swirled around her like a fog she couldn't escape.
She watched as Viviane twirled in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the wedding dress—bright, vibrant, and lavishly adorned with diamonds and gems that caught the light in a brilliant display. The dress was everything Seraphina was not. It was youthful, radiant, a stark contrast to the shadows that had followed her through the years of her marriage. Viviane's laughter rang out, sweet and mocking, and Seraphina could feel her own heart hardening with every second.
But beneath it all, there was something else that gnawed at her. Something darker than the petty jealousy that others might expect her to feel. It was the betrayal of loyalty—the sense that the vows she had once sworn were now meaningless. The loyalty that had kept her bound to this place, to this family, was shattered. It wasn't just that her husband had chosen Viviane over her; it was the fact that he had broken their bond so completely, without a second thought.
Her fingers absentmindedly reached for the necklace that hung from her neck, the cold, smooth grey gem resting beneath her fingertips. It glinted under the soft light, a stark reminder of the one who had given it to her. Kael.
The memory of him surged through her, unexpected but undeniable. Kael had given her this gem, a parting gift. A symbol of the power he held over her, the way he had never truly let go of her.
She could almost feel his eyes on her, those cold, sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through every façade she put up. He had always seen her, truly seen her. And now, as she watched her husband with his mistress, she realized that Kael had always been the one who understood her, even in her darkest moments.
But she wasn't here for him. She wasn't here for anyone else but the people of the duchy, the citizens who would suffer if she abandoned her duty. She may not be loved or even be respected by her husband, but she was the Duchess of Everell, and she still held responsibility for this place—its wealth, power, and very future.
Seraphina glanced up again, her eyes narrowing as Viviane paraded around in her extravagant dress, the mockery in her every step. She should have been jealous. She should have felt something—rage, sadness, even pity. But all she felt was numb. The feelings that once ruled her heart, the emotions that had made her human, had been stripped away over the years.
What mattered now was the legacy of the duchy. The taxes, the merchants, the vassals—everything had been building up to this point. She had a plan, a way to take back control, to rebuild what had been broken. The nobles had hidden their wealth, their secrets, and their deceit. And Seraphina would be the one to expose them, to tear them down one by one.
She looked at Alastair, standing there beside Vivienne with that smug, self-satisfied look on his face, his hands resting possessively on Vivienne's waist. And for a brief moment, Seraphina wondered what would have happened if she had never married him. If she had never been forced into this role, this cage.
But she couldn't afford to think like that. She was the duchess. She had a duty.
"If you're quite finished, we should move on," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the room like a blade.
The tailor stiffened, and Viviane's smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing. "Of course, Duchess," she replied sweetly, though the tone was laced with venom.
Seraphina didn't care. She didn't care about the games Vivienne played or how her husband turned his back on her. What mattered now was her role—her duty as the Duchess of Everell. If she left, what would happen to this place?
She had been the one to hold it together when everything threatened to fall apart. She had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, making decisions that no one knew about, ensuring the duchy's survival. And now, she would finish what she started.
As the moments stretched on, Seraphina couldn't help but remember Kael's words: You will always come back to me.
Was he right? Would she always be bound to him, to the darkness he represented?
*****
Seraphina sat at the grand table, her gaze sharp and calculating as the elders around her celebrated. The plan had worked—against all odds, she had outmaneuvered the aristocrats, using their own secrets against them. They had gathered evidence of tax evasion, of financial deceit, and forced the central nobles to comply, knowing that Seraphina held their fates in her hands.
Count Ordelle, a 60-year-old man with tear-streaked cheeks, clutched her hands in gratitude. He was openly worshiping her, praising her like a goddess. His voice trembled as he spoke. "Duchess Seraphina, you've saved us all. Without you, we would have fallen to the greed of those who would ruin this land."
The room filled with cheers, a wave of appreciation for the woman who had secured Everell's future. The elders, once wary of her, now saw her as their salvation. They spoke of next steps, of further improvements, of how to solidify their victory. The energy was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Seraphina allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. She had done this. She had ensured Everell's survival, and with it, her own future.
But just as the celebratory atmosphere reached its peak, the door to the room slammed open.
Alastair stormed in, his face twisted in anger, his eyes glaring at Seraphina with a fury she hadn't seen in years. Behind him stood Viviane, her eyes alight with smugness, almost as if she knew this moment would come.
Alastair didn't waste time with pleasantries. "What is this?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You, trying to take my place as the head of Everell? You, a woman, are trying to usurp me?"
Viviane's laughter cut through the tension like a knife. "She thinks she can rule this place, Alastair. She thinks she can control everything now that she has the information." Her voice was sweet, but there was venom in it, a calculated attempt to weaken Seraphina's standing further. "She's only a woman, after all. How could she possibly understand what it means to rule a duchy?"
The elders fell silent. The weight of the accusation hung in the air, and Seraphina felt the room shift, the eyes of the men around her no longer filled with admiration but doubt. She could almost see the uncertainty in their gazes as they flickered between her and Alastair. Were they protecting her, or were they simply looking out for themselves?
Seraphina didn't respond immediately. She studied the faces of the men in the room, their expressions now wary, hesitant. The truth hit her like a hammer: They weren't loyal to her. They were loyal to their survival. They would back whoever held the power, whoever could protect them.
This wasn't about her. This wasn't about loyalty or duty. This was about control and authority.
She stood up slowly, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "If you're done, Alastair, I suggest you leave," she said, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. "You will not threaten me in front of these men. Not anymore."
Alastair took a step forward, his eyes narrowing, but Seraphina didn't back down.
"You think you've won?" Alastair sneered. "This is just the beginning. You're nothing without me, Seraphina. You're still just a woman who's been playing at power."
The words stung, but Seraphina didn't show it. Instead, she gave him a cold smile. "I don't need your approval anymore, Alastair. And I certainly don't need your pity."
The room was thick with tension, and the elders remained silent, watching the exchange unfold. At that moment, Seraphina realized the truth of it all.
She wasn't just fighting for control of Everell. She was fighting for her own identity. For a place in this world that hadn't been defined by her husband's whims or the expectations of a society that saw her as little more than a pawn.
When Alastair finally turned and stormed out, Viviane trailing behind him with a look of victory on her face, Seraphina remained standing. She didn't feel the weight of the loss as she had before. She felt lighter, freer, as though something had shifted within her.
As she made her way back to her private chambers, she couldn't help but replay the encounter in her mind. The words, the accusations, the doubts—it was all so familiar. She had been playing a dangerous game for so long, always under the thumb of others.
Lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, Seraphina allowed herself a moment of respite.