CHAPTER 35: TORN THREADS AND BROKEN DIGNITY

Lady Eleanor’s POV

​I stood before the grand fireplace in my private bedchamber, my chest heaving with a mixture of raw disappointment and utter embarrassment.

​

​I turned around to face them. Lucian sat on the edge of the leather armchair, dabbing at his split, bloody lip with a silk handkerchief. Leo stood near the balcony doors, his shirt torn at the collar, a dark bruise blooming rapidly across his jawline.

​"Have you both lost your minds?" I snapped, my voice trembling with cold rage. "Have you completely lost it?"

​Neither of them spoke. They stared at the floor, their breathing still ragged from the fight.

​"It is my birthday," I continued, taking a sharp step toward them. "We have a grand gala filled with the highest nobility in the province right downstairs. My personal maid—your wife-to-be, Lucian—was publicly accused of stealing my finest jewels, and then fell down a flight of marble steps! And you have the audacity to start a bloody fistfight right outside the room where she is fighting for her life?!"

​I looked between the two of them, my heart breaking at the sight. "Have you got no shame, either of you? Is this how I raised you?"

​Lucian swallowed hard, lowering his handkerchief. "Forgive us, Mother."

​"Forgive us, Mother," Leo echoed quietly, his jaw tight.

​"Leo simply does not know how to act mature in important situations," Lucian muttered under his breath, glaring at his brother with a cold, bloodied sneer.

​"Well, at least I choose when to act," Leo spat back instantly, taking a step forward. "You do not even know what the word maturity means!"

​Lucian’s eyes flared as he pushed himself up from the chair. "Do you want to start this again?"

​"ENOUGH!" I shrieked, slamming my hand onto the side table so hard the porcelain tea set rattled. "What did I just say?!"

​Silence fell back over the room, heavy and suffocating. I pressed two fingers to my temples, trying to steady the wild pounding in my head.

​"Whatever absurd argument you two have going on, you will keep it to yourselves until we make sure Eva is fine," I warned, staring directly at Lucian. "Shouldn't you be concerned that your future wife was accused of theft? Shouldn't you be trying to find out what actually happened, Lucian? Huh?"

​Lucian straightened his posture, his expression hardening into a wall of icy detachment. "Well... if she was accused of it, then she must be a thief."

​The words had barely left his lips before I moved.

​I stepped into his space and delivered a sharp, echoing slap across his cheek.

​Lucian’s head snapped to the side. He froze, his dark eyes wide with shock as he slowly turned back to look at me, his hand coming up to touch his burning face.

​"Don't you dare speak of a woman like that in my presence," I whispered, my voice dripping with venom. "What are you trying to become? It seems you have been spending far too much time around your father."

​Lucian went rigid, the sting of my words hitting him deeper than the blow itself. He closed his mouth, locking his jaw in stony silence.

​"Out of my room," I commanded quietly, pointing a trembling finger toward the heavy double doors. "Both of you. Out. Now!"

​Lucian offered a stiff, formal bow without making eye contact, turning on his heel to exit. Leo lingered for a second, casting a guilty look in my direction, before following his brother out into the quiet corridor.

​When the heavy oak doors finally clicked shut, I collapsed into the armchair, burying my face in my hands.

​This was not how I had envisioned my birthday. I didn't understand what was happening to my family anymore. My sons were acting like complete strangers—bitter, hostile, and entirely untamed—and as the rain began to patter softly against the balcony glass, a dark, heavy knot of dread settled in my stomach for the girl lying motionless down the hall.

Eva’s POV

​A dull, throbbing pain echoed behind my eyelids before I even opened them.

​I blinked slowly, my vision blurry as I pushed myself up from the soft mattress. My body felt heavy, completely drained of energy, and a strange, cold silence hung over the luxurious room. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool wooden floor, and staggered toward a full-length mirror standing in the corner.

​I stopped.

​Reflected in the glass was a girl with pale skin and dark hair, a thick white bandage wrapped snugly around her forehead. I reached up with a trembling hand, my fingers brushing the linen cloth.

​"What happened?" I whispered to the quiet room.

​I turned toward the door, turning the handle and stepping out into a wide, quiet corridor. I looked left, then right, a sudden, cold panic tightening in my throat.

​Who am I?

​No name came to mind. No home. No family. Nothing. Just a terrifying, hollow void where my life was supposed to be.

​Desperate to find a familiar face—anyone who could tell me who I was—I walked toward a sweeping set of grand marble stairs and carefully descended. The muffled sounds of cutlery against fine china drew me toward a grand dining hall. Inside, three people were seated around a long mahogany table laden with food.

​Suddenly, one of the men looked up. His dark eyes widened, and he immediately pushed his chair back, standing up.

​"Eva!" he called out, his voice laced with intense relief. "You are awake!"

​He rushed across the room, stepping up to me and holding out a warm, welcoming hand to help me forward. I shrank back slightly, staring down at his outstretched hand before looking up into his face.

​"Please..." I stammered, my voice barely audible. "I think I am lost."

​The older woman sitting at the head of the table let out a gentle, reassuring laugh, setting her napkin down. "No, my child, you are not lost. You have been unconscious for three days, so you are just very tired. You are still in the De Witt house. What are you saying?"

​I blinked, taking a small step back. "De Witt? Who are you, please?"

​The second man at the table stood up abruptly, his expression hardening into utter disbelief. "Who are we?"

​My chest heaved as panic flared through my veins. "Who am I?!" I cried softly, my eyes darting frantically between their faces. "Who are you people, please? I... I am trying to find my place! I don't know what is going on!"

​The first man—the one who had tried to offer his hand—turned to the others, his voice quiet and grim. "I think she hit her head pretty hard... didn't she?"

​Within minutes, a white-haired physician was summoned into the hall. He guided me to a chair, shining a small light into my eyes, pressing gently against the bandage on my skull, and checking my pulse as the family watched in tense silence.

​"It is as I feared," the physician said softly, turning to face the room. "Because she was unconscious for three days after such a severe impact, her brain has suffered trauma. It appears she has lost her memory."

​"Lost my memory?" I repeated, the words tasting cold and terrifying on my tongue.

​The doctor turned back to me, his gaze kind and patient. "Child... do you know your name?"

​I searched my mind again, digging desperately through the blank fog, but nothing was there. A tear slipped down my cheek. "No... I don't know my name."

​I choked back a sob, my shoulders shaking as tears began to spill over. The physician reached out, gently patting my shoulder. "No, it is okay, child. It is okay. You may remember everything in time—it is just going to take a while."

​"Okay... okay," I hiccuped, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.

​The older woman stepped closer, her eyes filled with gentle concern. "Would you like something to eat, dear? Anything for breakfast?"

​"No," I whispered, holding my arms tightly around myself, feeling entirely vulnerable in a room full of strangers. "I just... I really want to be alone, please."

​"Of course," she replied softly. She signaled to a maid standing near the archway. "Direct her back to her room so she can rest."

​I followed the maid in complete silence, my heart breaking with every step. I was a ghost in my own body, trapped in a grand house where everyone knew my face—and I didn't even know my own name.