Chapter 4: Why Not Divorce Me?

Recently miscarried? Delirious?

Vivian stood frozen, her face tightening as she struggled to mask her distaste. Without a second glance, Damian released her hand and walked away, his stride purposeful and cold.

Left alone in the hallway, Vivian narrowed her eyes. Her lips curled in suppressed rage, but a slow, predatory smile eventually emerged. If Selene was truly serious about her words, didn't that mean the path to becoming the Duchess was finally laid before her?

"Duchess Leventis..." she whispered, tasting the title on her tongue. A cunning grin spread across her face, and she let out a soft, sharp chuckle before following in Damian's wake.

-

Dawn broke. Golden light pierced through the castle's stained glass, yet it failed to warm the stone walls, which remained frozen by hidden secrets.

Selene paced the silent corridor. Her gown rustled softly; her face was pale, but her gaze was strikingly clear. She was about to turn a corner when a door creaked open—the door to Damian's private room.

Vivian stepped out, satisfied with a smile on her lips, her blonde hair shimmering in the morning light. A moment later, Damian followed, his expression as flat as if it were nothing.

"Selene!" Vivian called out loud.

Selene turned. A thin, cold smile graced her lips—one that was entirely unreadable. She spared Damian only a fleeting glance before turning to walk away without a single word.

Vivian panicked. "I-I was only waking the Duke. Last night, I... I stayed in the guest room—"

"It doesn't matter," Selene interrupted flatly, her voice like a blade of steel.

Damian frowned, and Vivian shifted uneasily. Yet Selene continued to walk with a straight back, prompting the servants to bow in deep respect—as if she were the only true mistress of the castle.

"What is this?" Vivian whispered, trembling. "Does she... does she know?"

"What if she does?" Damian replied.

"Darling... She is still your wife. If she speaks out, everyone will take her side. I'll be seen as the woman who stole her own sister's husband."

"Vivi." Damian ran a hand through her golden hair, a small smile appearing. "No matter what happens, you are the only one I love."

Vivian exhaled in relief and hugged him tightly. The guards turned their heads, pretending not to see. Everyone in the castle knew of the affair; only Selene, they believed, had been trapped in her own blind trust.

But this morning... Selene's demeanor felt entirely different.

The dining room was filled with the aroma of toasted bread and warm soup. Selene sat gracefully in her chair, staring blankly at her plate. The two people she most wished to avoid entered together.

"Selene," Vivian's voice was sweet—far too sweet. "May I have breakfast with you and the Duke?"

"If you want to eat, then eat," Selene replied coldly, without lifting her head.

"Selene!" Damian snapped, his tone sharp.

"She is your guest. It is none of my business." Selene replied

The room turned ice-cold.

"Why do you keep targeting Vivian?" Damian accused.

"Me?" Selene turned slowly, her gaze piercing. "I don't even have the right to cause trouble. After all, who am I in this house?"

Silence descended. The servants bowed even lower. Their mistress was no longer the soft, devoted woman they knew. She had changed—cold, mysterious, and impossible to read.

"At least you're self-aware," Damian shot back cynically.

Selene did not answer.

"Duke..." Vivian spoke softly. "Perhaps I should just go home. Selene clearly doesn't want me here."

Selene remained silent. She did not stop her, nor did she plead for her to stay.

"Selene, apologize to Vivian," Damian commanded.

"I have done her no wrong."

Vivian hurried to interject. "There's no need. I'm fine."

"Selene, you are truly going too far!" Damian roared.

A faint, bitter smile touched Selene's lips. "Thank you. But there's no need for theatrics. If you want to stay, then stay. You don't need excuses."

Vivian gasped. Damian fell silent, his face tightening.

"I am still unwell. The doctor has forbidden me from heavy labor. As such, I am taking a leave of absence from my duties," Selene continued calmly.

The words caused Damian's jaw to set.

A dish of roasted meat was served. "Is that... bird?" Vivian asked softly.

"It is a special dish prepared for the Duchess," Ivan, the head butler, replied.

"Vivian is allergic to poultry!" Damian exclaimed.

"No one knew she was staying the night," Selene countered icily. "This menu was prepared for me."

Damian suppressed his rage.

Selene looked at Vivian, her smile faint and haunting. "Bird is the Duke's favorite. As a guest, it is only proper that you eat whatever the host provides."

"Selene!" Damian barked.

"What?" she challenged. "Everyone is concerned for my health. But my husband... is far more preoccupied with his guest's palate."

Vivian turned pale. "I can eat something else..."

"Bring another dish for Lady Moreau," Selene instructed Ivan.

Damian stepped closer. "Do you enjoy causing problems?"

"I am still the Duchess. I am still your wife. If you find me so bothersome, then divorce me."

The words struck Damian like a physical force. His face hardened into a mask.

"Selene..." Vivian's voice was soft, meant to be soothing. "Matters like this are private. It is better that you speak with the Duke alone."

Selene turned to her. "It doesn't matter. Besides, why not just move in, Vivian? Haven't you stayed here often enough?"

Vivian's face turned pale. "I—"

"Vivi could never live here!" Damian cut in harshly.

Vivian's heart hammered. To her, those words sounded like a refusal of her status.

"What is the problem?" Selene pressed, her voice relentless. "You two once loved each other. If those feelings have bloomed again, why don't you marry her?"

"Selene!" Damian exploded. "I cannot marry your sister!" his voice cracked with frustration.

"Why not?" Selene leaned back in her chair, looking entirely relaxed. "You have the power, the influence. A Duke can have more than one woman. Why not simply marry Vivian... and divorce me?"