CHAPTER 27: EGGSTRIKES AND ASHES

Eva’s POV

​I sat on the edge of my narrow cot, staring at the floor in the dark.

​Lucian and Leo both knew I was the woman in the yellow dress, but my place in Valenridge was hanging by a thread. If Lucian exposed me to Lady Eleanor or Duke De witt, I would be cast out before I could finish what I started.

​I needed to know where I stood.

​Slipping out of the servants' quarters, I made my way through the quiet corridors to Lucian’s study. I knocked twice.

​"Come in," his voice called out.

​I opened the door. Lucian sat behind his desk, candlelight catching the sharp edge of his jaw. As he looked up and saw me, his face hardened into immediate disgust.

​"May I speak with you, My Lord?"

​"Sure," he replied, dipping his quill back into the inkwell without giving me his audience. "You may proceed."

​I took a few steps closer to the desk, keeping my voice low. "I would like to know if you have agreed not to tell your mother about the ball."

​Lucian stopped writing. He slowly set down his quill and leaned back, fixing his eyes on me.

​"Why are you so concerned about me not telling my mother?"

​"What?"

​"Why do you want to work in this household so badly, Eva?" he pressed. "There are other houses. They would pay you well. So why must you be in the hall of Valenridge?"

​"Let us just say... I found comfort in this place unlike other places."

​"You cannot know that until you try," he countered.

​"Do you not want me working here anymore?"

​Lucian scoffed, looking at me with total indifference. "I do not care. I do not care about you enough to care if you work here or not." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I am going to tell my mother. I will not tell you when. When I am ready, I will tell her, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

​"My Lord—"

​"You lied," Lucian interrupted coldly. "Whether with good intentions or not, it does not matter. You lied twice. You knew we shared a dance, yet you said nothing when I told you how familiar your eyes looked."

​"I did not think you would remember," I said softly, looking up at him. "No one ever remembers something like that."

​Lucian went still. He stood up from his chair, his gaze locking onto mine.

​"I would never forget such a beautiful pair of eyes."

​The air locked in my chest as we stared at each other in the quiet room.

​Lucian broke the gaze first. He walked over to the heavy door and pulled it open, waiting for me to leave.

​"Please... don't let me stop working here, Lord Lucian," I whispered.

​He said nothing. I stepped out into the hallway, and the door clicked shut behind me.

Eva’s POV

​I woke up to the damp, gray chill of early morning.

​I went through the motions of my morning duties—scrubbing the stone floors, laying out fresh linens, fetching hot water—like a ghost trapped in a routine. But my heart wasn't in it.

​Today was the thirteenth anniversary of my father's death.

​Thirteen years since the day Duke Sterling destroyed my family and burnt my world to ashes. Every year, this date hung over me like a heavy, suffocating fog, reminding me of the life I lost and the bloody path I had chosen to walk.

​By mid-morning, the entire household staff was summoned to the main drawing room. Mrs. Gable stood sternly at the front, lining up all the maids in a precise row.

​Lady Eleanor sat near the window, reviewing flower arrangements, while Lucian and Leo stood near the hearth, discussing logistics for the upcoming birthday gala.

​"I want the silver candelabras polished twice," Mrs. Gable barked softly, pacing down our line. "And the velvet runners brought down from the attic by noon."

​I stood straight, my hands folded over my apron, but my vision began to tilt.

​A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. My heart began to hammer violently against my ribs, each thud ringing loudly in my ears.

​Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe.

​The room began to spin. Lady Eleanor's voice drifted away, sounding as if she were speaking from the bottom of a deep well. I looked toward the hearth—Lucian was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, his threat from last night echoing in my skull: I am going to tell my mother... there is nothing you can do to stop me.

​The weight of it all slammed into my chest at once—the overwhelming grief of my father's memory, the constant terror of being exposed, and the suffocating fear that my years of planning were about to crumble.

​My breathing turned shallow, rapid, and heavy. I was panting, clutching at the fabric of my dress as the room dissolved into a blur of muted colors and muffled noise.

​I couldn't catch my breath. The air had turned to ice.

​I saw Leo's head snap toward me in my peripheral vision, his brow furrowing in sudden panic. I saw Lucian step forward, his cold composure instantly shattering.

​Then, the floor seemed to give way entirely.

​Darkness rushed in from the edges of my eyes, swallowing the drawing room whole, and I crumpled to the stone floor before anyone could reach me.