CHAPTER 40: FRACTURED SHADOWS

Eva’s POV

​The room was suffocatingly quiet. I sat near the window, the worn leather-bound book Leo had given me open across my lap.

​I traced my fingers over the faded print, trying desperately to focus on the words, but a sudden, sharp ache began to throb behind my temples. I closed my eyes tightly, resting my head against the high back of the chair.

​Through the haze in my mind, a fleeting image flickered—a grand, candlelit hall, the sound of soft music, and the sensation of spinning in a graceful dance with a man. But no matter how hard I stared into the fog of my memory, his face remained completely obscured in shadows.

​A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I snapped the book shut and set it on the tea table. Trying to force these memories back was exhausting, and Lucian was never around to offer any comfort or answers anyway. Left entirely alone in this grand, silent room day after day, I felt more like a prized prisoner than a future bride.

​My throat felt parched. Deciding I needed a glass of water and a breath of cool air, I stood up, smoothed my silk skirts, and slipped out into the long, empty corridor toward the lower level.

​The estate was hushed in the late afternoon, the servants busy in the outer wings. As I neared the quiet passageway leading toward the servant pantries, a soft, muffled sound echoed through the stone hallway.

​I paused, tilting my head. It sounded like a woman soft-moaning in breathy, frantic gasps.

​Confusion tugged at me. I followed the sound down the dimly lit hallway, stopping outside the heavy oak door of a secluded linen parlor that sat slightly ajar. Curious, I stepped closer, leaning forward and peering past the wooden frame.

​My breath caught instantly in my throat.

​Inside, Lady Eleanor stood bent over a low velvet bench, her fine gown pulled down to expose her white underdress. Standing behind her, his large hands pressed possessively against her chest, was a tall, dark-haired man whose low growls filled the room.

​I leaned further, my heart hammering a chaotic beat against my ribs.

​The man leaned his head back into the dim candlelight. It was not the Duke.

​My eyes widened in utter shock. He was the royal guard—the handsome, stern man who was constantly at the Duchess’s side, the very one who had driven our carriage to the bridal shop that morning.

​Panic surged through me. I snapped my head back behind the doorframe, backing away on trembling legs. Oh no. Oh no.

​My mind whirled in frantic circles. The Duchess... the noble, elegant Duchess of De Witt was having an affair.

​Affair.

​The word echoed violently in my ears like a striking church bell—affair, affair, affair.

​Suddenly, a blinding bolt of pain split through my skull. My vision blurred into streaks of white light. A rush of buried memories flooded into my head—a cozy chamber, the smell of lavender tea, Lady Eleanor sitting before a vanity mirror, looking up at me and quietly confiding in her personal maid about the dangerous secret lover who held her heart.

​Personal maid.

​My head spun out of control. I stumbled against the cold stone wall, clutching my temples as the sheer weight of the realization crushed me from the inside out.

​"Ah!"

​A sharp, terrified scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.

​The sound shattered the quiet corridor. Panic consumed me, but before I could take another step to flee, the world pitched violently on its side. Black spots danced across my vision, swallowing the light, until total darkness pulled me under.

Eva’s POV

​My eyes fluttered open to the soft glow of candlelight against unfamiliar silk sheets.

​I sat up abruptly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was back in my bedchamber. How did I get here? Did someone find me unconscious in the hall? A cold wave of anxiety washed over me as the image of Lady Eleanor and the guard flashed through my mind. Did the Duchess see me?

​I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, my head still throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. I needed to get out of this stifling room. I needed air.

​Stepping out through the quiet side entrance of the estate, I let the cool evening breeze hit my face. My mind was spinning with the terrifying truth I had just uncovered—I wasn't a noble lady who belonged in this grand castle. I had started as a maid. But if I was a maid, where was my family? Did I have a father? A mother? Who was I before I entered the walls of Valenridge?

​Unable to stop myself, I walked past the estate gates and down the winding road leading into the lower village market.

​Night had fallen, and the cobblestone streets were vibrant with life. Lanterns glowed overhead, musicians played lively folk tunes, and villagers danced near the taverns. I pulled my velvet cloak tighter around myself, observing the warmth of the crowd from the shadows.

​As I walked past a brightly lit tavern, my eyes caught a familiar figure sitting at a outdoor wooden table, surrounded by laughing men and women. Lord Leo.

​He was raising a tankard, a roguish grin on his face as two women leaned in close to listen to his joke. I paused, a strange, bitter knot tightening in my chest. Does he always surround himself with so many women? I shook my head, averting my eyes as I walked further into the darkening alleys, leaving the noise of the market behind.

​The village grew quiet and narrow. Up ahead, tucked at the end of a dirt lane, stood a small, abandoned stone cottage. Its wooden door hung loosely off its hinges, and the roof was half-collapsed.

​Yet, as I stared at it, a powerful, magnetic pull drew me toward the threshold.

​I stepped inside the dusty room. Cobwebs hung from the rafters, but my eyes landed on a faded, moth-eaten coat hanging on a peg by the hearth. Reaching out with a trembling hand, my fingers brushed against the rough wool fabric.

​A blinding flash struck my mind.

​"Take this, my sweet girl," an old man's warm, raspy voice echoed through my head. I saw a pair of calloused, working-class hands pressing a few copper coins into my palm. "It is enough for your school books this term. Your father will be so proud of you."

​I gasped, stumbling back into the present moment, clutching my chest as tears pricked my eyes. Did I... did I live here? Was that my father?

​The revelation sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me. Panicked, I backed toward the doorway. No. This is too much. I cannot black out here alone in the dark. It is far too dangerous.

​I turned to run out into the lane, but my path was instantly blocked by three heavy, shadowy figures.

​I froze.

​Three men stepped into the faint moonlight filtering through the doorway, reeking of cheap ale and mud. Their wild, hungry eyes locked onto me.

​"Well, well... are you lost, my lady?" the tallest one rasped, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

​The second man leaned in, his eyes raking over my fine lavender gown. "Look at her silk, boys. That dress alone could pay off my entire household's debt for a year."

​"I... I am not one of them," I stammered, my voice trembling as I took a desperate step back into the dark room. "I simply lost my way. Please, let me pass—"

​"Not so fast, sweetheart," the third thug chuckled, stepping forward and blocking the escape route completely. "A delicate, pretty noble girl out all by herself? I say we have a little fun with her first... before we take those expensive clothes."

​My blood ran completely cold as the three men closed in, trapping me in the dark, abandoned cottage with nowhere left to run.