Chapter 3

Blood. So much blood.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt life draining away. My child was leaving my body with the blood.

The doctor came too late.

I had hemorrhaged. I had miscarried.

The doctor's final verdict was even crueler: I would never bear another child.

For two weeks, I slept in a haze.

In my waking moments, I heard the maids whispering outside my window.

"The Duke sent Miss Liana away in the middle of the night..."

"Sent her to that beautiful estate in the south. He wouldn't want her to suffer the slightest discomfort."

"Sigh, it was bound to happen. Ten years. Did they think no one knew?"

"Ever since that ball ten years ago, Miss Liana has had him wrapped around her finger. At first, he worried because she was his adopted sister, but then..."

"Then they started sleeping together almost every night the Duchess was away. The whole staff knew. Only Her Grace was kept in the dark."

Ten years.

An entire decade.

I wept until I couldn't breathe, my tears soaking my pillow.

When I was strong enough, I went to a remote corner of the garden and planted a small sapling.

It was the only grave my lost child would ever have.

Then I confronted Alistair.

"I want a divorce," I said. My voice was calm. "And I'm taking Damian with me."

"Mother!" Damian burst in, his face a mask of disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"It's normal for a duke to have a few mistresses," he said. His words were like a knife in my heart. "Aunt Liana has always been good to me. She grew up here, it's normal she wouldn't want to leave! Mother, don't be so dramatic. Your position is not threatened."

I froze.

I couldn't believe those words came from my twelve-year-old son.

"Damian! Do not be rude to your mother!" Alistair pretended to scold him. Then he turned to me. "Seraphina, a divorce is impossible."

My voice trembled. "Damian... you knew. About your father and Liana. You knew all along, didn't you?"

Damian fell silent.

But I already knew everything.

Even my own son had chosen their side.

I fled back to the palace that night.

After that, I was never the cheerful girl I once was.

I became quiet, withdrawn. I would sit in the garden for a whole afternoon in the snow, letting the cold wind chill me to the bone.

Pneumonia.

Then, consumption.

The day the doctor confirmed it, my father held me and wept.

"Seraphina, my poor girl. You've suffered so much."

I only agreed to return when news came that Alistair's madness was threatening the kingdom's stability.

I was going to die soon anyway.

This was the last thing I could do for my father.

Now, the flood of memory receded. I was back in the present.

Liana was standing on the balcony of the "Morningstar Wing." It used to be my chambers.

I had been moved to the desolate North Tower.

She saw me passing below and called out loudly, "It doesn't matter what tantrums you throw, Seraphina. Alistair and I grew up together. He'll always choose me."

She stroked the sapphire necklace at her throat. A deliberate display.

It was supposed to be mine.

It was my wedding gift from Alistair.

A cramp seized my stomach, but my face remained a calm mask.

I ignored her and kept walking.

"Seraphina!" Alistair's voice called from behind me.

I stopped.

He walked up to me, pointing at the paintings and rare books I had packed away in the North Tower.

"Why are you throwing these away?" he demanded, his voice laced with pain. "These are our memories!"

I turned to face him, my eyes empty.

"Your Grace," my voice was pure ice. "Some memories are a burden. Too heavy to bear."