Chapter 6: The Divorce Papers

The morning air was biting. As usual, Selene saw no sign of Damian. She got used to her husband's absence as her husband was rarely home. Before, she convinced herself that he was merely consumed by the affairs of the state, but now that the truth was bare, all that remained in her heart was sickness. The wounds in her heart were far from healed, but she constantly reminded herself that time would make her stronger.

However, the morning grew heavier when her father, Robert Moreau, arrived unannounced at the Duke's castle.

"What exactly did you say to Vivian?" Robert's voice pressed against her, demanding an answer.

"What could I have said? What exactly did she complain to you about?" Selene retorted, her tone clinical and indifferent.

Robert fell silent for a moment, taking a long, weary breath. "Selene… Vivian and the Duke are childhood friends. They were even engaged once. It is only natural that they are close. Can you not show a little grace and yield?"

Selene suppressed a cynical laugh behind her teeth.

"Count Moreau…" she said, her voice cold as frost.

Robert's eyes widened. His daughter—his own legitimate child—had just addressed him with a title that cut like a knife.

"I have already told the Duke to marry Vivian. How much more am I expected to yield?" Selene's gaze pinned him, piercing through to his very core.

"Selene, that is not what I meant—"

"And now you said they are just friends?" Selene interrupted, her smile sharp. "What kind of friends share a bed?"

The words struck him like a physical blow. Robert swallowed hard, his lips pressed into a tight line. There was no defense he could offer.

"Don't think I am ignorant," Selene continued coldly. "And now you come here only to corner your own daughter in defense of your stepdaughter."

"Selene—"

"I wonder," Selene's gaze sharpened, her voice low but lethal. "Is she truly just a stepdaughter… or is she actually your own?"

"Selene! You have gone too far!" Robert roared.

Selene let out a long sigh, her eyes weary but filled with defiance. "Throughout my mother's life, you may never have betrayed her love. But you… you betrayed her daughter."

The color drained from Robert's face; his anger was slowly replaced by a somber gloom. For the first time, Selene was challenging him like this.

"Have you ever, for even a moment, considered the feelings of your own daughter, Father?" she asked softly, the question cutting deeper than any scream.

Robert lowered his head, his words failing him.

"My entire life… everything that should have been mine, you handed to her. Was that not enough? Must I now surrender my husband as well?" Selene's voice trembled with a bitter edge.

"Selene, I didn't mean it that way. In any case, you were the one who gave him to her," Robert tried to defend himself.

Selene laughed—a hollow, cynical sound. "If I hadn't 'given' him to her, I would have ended up locked in the attic… sleeping on the floor and sharing my meals with rats. Have you forgotten?"

"Selene—"

"Go home, Father," Selene cut him off coldly. "If your only reason for coming was to champion your stepdaughter, then it's best you never show your face to me again." She stood up, her face set like stone, devoid of any lingering warmth.

Robert stared at her, not daring to speak. Selene swept past, leaving her father alone in the room.

-

Damian stood behind the door, having heard everything. His chest felt constricted. Selene knew about the affair, and the knowledge had transformed her—she was cold, resolute, and no longer afraid of him.

Damian's mind raced. Who had told her? How did she know? What was clear was that Selene's wounds ran deeper than he had ever imagined—wounds dealt by her father, and by himself.

That afternoon, Selene entered Damian's study carrying a stack of documents. Damian sat at his desk, his gaze vacant.

"I need you to sign these," Selene said calmly, placing the files on the desk.

Damian looked up, slightly startled. "Is this urgent?" His voice was flat, but there was an unmistakable tremor beneath the surface.

"If they are not important, don't sign them then," Selene replied, reaching for the documents as if to leave.

"Tomorrow," Damian said suddenly.

Selene stopped, her expression difficult to read.

"Tomorrow… it is the Intimate Night, and Grandmother is coming," Damian said, as if pleading for understanding.

"I haven't recovered. There's no need to pretend. Just tell Grandmother," Selene answered.

Damian stood up and stepped closer. "I will sign them," he said finally.

With a racing heart, Selene handed the documents back. Damian signed page after page—until he reached the final divorce decree. He didn't read the text; he simply held his breath. It felt painful, yet it felt as though everything was already beyond repair.

"Selene…" Damian called out as she turned to leave.

She paused. "What?"

"Are you… are you alright?" he asked tentatively.

The question caught Selene off guard. In all her life, even when her soul was nearly extinguished, Damian had never asked her that. Tears threatened to fall, but she forced them back.

"I am fine. There is no need for concern," Selene replied softly, and then she was gone.

From that moment on, Damian was restless. Selene's image haunted his thoughts—the soft Selene of the past replaced by this sharp, frigid stranger.

He stood by the window, gazing out at the garden. Selene was walking with her two maids; the afternoon light caught her face, revealing a beauty that made his heart ache.

If he were honest, Selene possessed far more charm and charisma than Vivian. Their intimate nights had never been a mere obligation; they were a pleasure he had genuinely enjoyed. Yet his heart remained anchored to Vivian—not out of passion, but a debt of gratitude. That little girl had saved his life when his family was falling apart.

That was why he gave Vivian everything—even though Selene was the woman who truly belonged to him.

"Master." Steven entered.

"What is it?"

"Lady Moreau sent a letter, asking when you will be joining her."

Damian sighed. "I cannot go today or tomorrow. Grandmother is visiting. Tell her that."

"Yes, Master," Steven bowed, preparing to leave.

"Wait," Damian called. "Steven."

"Yes, Master?"

"Call the doctor. Have him examine the Duchess."