The night enveloped Helia in a dark nightmare. She saw herself bedridden, her face pale and lips dry, each breath labored. She felt trapped within her own body, as if a heavy shadow surrounded her. She was cold, yet sweating, slowly suffocating under the icy grip of imminent death. Near her, a familiar figure emerged from the darkness: Elysia, her eternal friend, stood by her bedside, her eyes filled with compassion. She offered a steaming cup of tea, and Helia, grateful, tried to smile despite the pain. She felt lucky to have such a faithful friend, someone to watch over her in her final moments.
But as soon as she took a sip, the warmth of the liquid turned into an unbearable burn in her throat. She coughed, gasped, feeling her limbs freeze, paralysis spreading slowly but surely. The air grew thinner, each breath becoming a battle, and she sank into an overwhelming anxiety. Elysia leaned closer, her face subtly changing, and Helia felt her heart tighten as she saw her sweet smile transform into a cruel grimace.
"Ah, finally! This poison took far longer than I expected... But it seems my efforts have finally paid off."
The shock frozen in her tear-filled eyes, Helia gathered her last strength to whisper, "Why...?"
Elysia gave her a smile that was no longer sweet, her eyes gleaming with a biting indifference. "Why not?" she replied, her voice cold, contempt dripping from each word. "Did you really think I was here to watch over you?" A chilling laugh echoed through the room. "Getting rid of you opens doors for me you can't even imagine."
As the darkness took hold of her, her eyes, blurred with tears of terror and confusion, fixed on Elysia, who suddenly resumed her benevolent mask, crying out with a chilling hypocrisy, "Oh my god, call the doctor, quickly!"
Helia awoke with a start, her heart pounding, drenched in cold sweat. She breathed laboriously, trying to calm her frantic heartbeats. She hadn't had nightmares like this in months, and this one left her exhausted, as if she had truly brushed with death. She pushed the image away with difficulty, but Elysia's biting words in the dream still echoed in her mind, like a lingering poison.
She rang the bell to call Lucille, her maid, and waited, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but failing. The pain of the previous day remained fresh, anchored in her mind. She saw Adrian again, the man she loved, covering her in insults after betraying her in the most humiliating way. Elysia's triumphant gaze behind him... and all of this, in front of an assembly eager for scandal.
Lucille entered a few minutes later and gently closed the door behind her. Used to opening the curtains to let in the morning light, she hesitated upon seeing Helia lying down, her face marked by fatigue and bitterness. A trace of concern flickered in her eyes, which she tried to mask behind a reassuring smile.
"Mademoiselle... you look so pale this morning. Perhaps you should take the day to rest?" she suggested in a soft voice, marked by evident concern.
Helia, usually quick to reply or downplay, simply nodded. She felt drained of all energy and lacked the strength to protest. "Yes... I think you're right, Lucille."
Lucille, reassured by this response, gently opened the curtains, letting a faint stream of light filter into the room without being too harsh. "Would you like to have your breakfast on the terrace, mademoiselle?"
"No, here will suffice, Lucille." Her voice was but a whisper. Helia paused, then asked, slowly sitting up, "My father and brother... have they returned?"
Lucille turned, her expression saddened. "Not yet, mademoiselle." She then approached the chest of drawers to prepare a fresh towel, gently helping Helia refresh her face with tender care, as though she feared any abrupt movement might shatter her apparent fragility.
Once done, Lucille moved toward the door to fetch breakfast. Helia, in an uncertain voice, asked, "Could you also bring me today's newspaper?"
Lucille froze, and a heavy silence filled the room. She slowly turned back toward Helia, her eyes expressing a compassion tinged with apprehension. "Mademoiselle..." she murmured hesitantly before speaking more firmly, "I'm not sure you should read it."
Helia felt a wave of humiliation overwhelm her once more. She understood what that look meant: the events of the previous day would surely be recounted in detail in the newspaper, with cruel comments that would only fuel the shame and pain she already felt. With a soft sigh, she nodded and motioned for Lucille to forget the request.
She turned her gaze away, biting her lip to contain the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. Lucille, observing this reaction, understood that Helia needed calm and comfort on this difficult morning.
"I'll bring your breakfast, mademoiselle, and I'll be here if you need anything," she said with a kind smile, a glimmer of support in her eyes, before quietly leaving the room.
Helia remained alone, the silence of the room pressing in on her from all sides. She knew that her family, her servants, and even strangers had witnessed her most terrible moment of vulnerability. At that moment, she could only hope that this night marked by betrayal and nightmarish dreams would be just a difficult passage in her story, and that she would find the strength to rise again.
Helia had spent the day huddled in her room, exhausted by grief. She had tried to distract herself with her usual readings, but nothing helped; the pain returned in waves, irresistible, often followed by another uncontrollable burst of tears. Night had fallen when she learned of her father and brother's return from the marquisate. Not wanting to appear weakened, she gathered herself to prepare and go down to dine with them, silently hoping they would act as usual.
As she expected, her father greeted her without any particular change, simply inviting her to take her seat at the table. His movements, measured and precise as always, almost gave the impression that he hadn't read the newspapers. Helia could have been deceived... if not for her father's calculated indifference and Lucian's awkward glances, which revealed the truth. Both were aware, and neither made a move to ask her anything about the banquet the night before or Adrian's betrayal. Strangely, this gave her a sense of relief. Where others might have sought emotional support, Helia momentarily felt protected by this distance; her family seemed uninterested in her love life or social reputation, which shielded her from inquisition or pitying glances.
The meal proceeded in silence, interrupted only by a few banal exchanges between the marquis and Lucian, which she paid no attention to. Helia played with her fork, her mind elsewhere, her face impassive. When dinner was over, she politely excused herself and returned to her rooms, leaving her father and brother alone at the table.
No sooner had she left the room than Lucian, his eyes filled with contained anger, struck the table violently with his fist.
"That bastard!" he exclaimed sharply, as if spitting the word with all the fury that bubbled within him.
The marquis, unperturbed, didn't even flinch. But a shadow darkened his gaze, and a cold gleam appeared in his features.
"She didn't even touch her plate..." he murmured bitterly, his voice low, as though speaking more to himself than to Lucian.
The young man clenched his fists, breathing deeply to control his outburst. "If that scoundrel thinks he's going to get away so easily, he doesn't know us!" The tension in his voice betrayed anger difficult to suppress. "Father, let me take care of him! I'll crush his business to dust and make sure he ends up on the front page of the scandal sheets too!"
A discreet smile, tinged with complicity, appeared on the marquis's lips. His gaze turned toward Lucian, impassive but calculating, and he replied in a cold, calm tone, almost icy.
"As for destroying his business… Consider it already handled."
Lucian straightened up, surprised, then a bitter, predatory smile formed on his lips. His fury had not subsided, but he felt a wave of satisfaction at the thought that justice was already underway.
"In that case, I'll handle the rest." His eyes gleamed with cold determination. "I'll make him regret the day he was born."
The marquis set his glass down and, with a gesture of his hand, adjusted his napkin, as if marking the end of their clandestine conversation. He gave a knowing glance to his son, nodding slowly.
"Do as you see fit, Lucian. But be discreet."
Lucian nodded, his features relaxing slightly, as if the prospect of seeking justice for his sister lifted a weight from his shoulders. He cast one last glance at the spot where Helia had stood only moments before. In silence, he silently vowed to repay that man the pain he had dared to inflict on his sister, a hundredfold.