Madeleina raised her head.
Her silver-blue eyes met Duke Thaddeus’ unwavering gaze, steady, unflinching.
She did not lower herself in submission.
She did not avert her gaze in guilt.
Because she was not guilty.
“Why did I do that?”
She repeated his question—not as a stall, not as deflection, but because she wanted to understand.
Understand what, exactly, he was asking.
Did he want her to say it outright? Did he want her to explain every thought, every decision, as if he was some ignorant child who could not comprehend the truth before him?
As if he had not felt it himself all these years?
She did not waver.
“Yes.”
His voice was cold, sharpened into something far more dangerous than open rage.
“Why did you betray me?”
A lesser woman would have flinched.
But Madeleina?
She did not even blink.
i
Because she hadn’t.
Not once.
Not in all these years.
Not in anything she had done.
Betrayal? That was an act of selfishness. An act of personal ambition, of treachery, of seeking something for oneself at the expense of another.
But everything she had done—every decision, every step, every action—had been for him.
For the Dukedom.
For the legacy that he carried.
And yet, here he stood, questioning her.
As if she had done something unthinkable.
As if she had wronged him.
Did he truly not see?
Did he truly not understand?
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. Not in hesitation. Not in fear.
But in something far deeper.
Something bordering on… disappointment.
How could he be so blind?
But then, wasn’t that always the case?
Hadn’t he always been blind when it came to her?
Lady Aeliana.
The frail, sickly girl who had chained him.
The child who had bound him with grief, with stagnation, with a sorrow so deep that it had nearly consumed him.
Madeleina had watched it.
She had lived through it.
She had seen how Aeliana had turned this grand Duchy into a tomb.
How her presence had darkened the halls, how her illness had sucked the life from the very air they breathed.
And the Duke—her Duke—had let it happen.
He had allowed himself to be devoured by guilt. By loss. By the weight of a love that had done nothing but cripple him.
It had weakened him.
Kept him stagnant.
Aeliana had been eating him alive.
And she—Madeleina—had done what was necessary.
What no one else had the strength to do.
What he had refused to do.
She had removed the weakness.
She had ensured that Duke Thaddeus Vermillion—the man destined for greatness—would no longer be shackled by the past.
She had freed him.
So, no.
She had not betrayed him.
She had served him.
As she always had.
As she always would.
Aeliana’s body tensed, her nails biting into her palms, her breath coming sharp and ragged. And then—
“I did not betray you? You bitch! How dare you say that after pushing me down!”
The words tore from her throat, raw and venomous, seething with the rage that had been caged for far too long.
The chamber, already heavy with tension, cracked beneath the weight of her fury.
Her father stiffened, just slightly. The maids outside, if they were listening, would no doubt pale at the language that had left her lips—language unbecoming of a Duke’s daughter.
But Aeliana did not care.
Did not care for dignity. For composure. For the expectations of noble blood.
Not now.
Not when the very woman who had tried to end her had the audacity to stand before them all and justify it.
But Madeleina…
She did not flinch.
She did not even blink.
Her gaze remained unwavering, unshaken, as if Aeliana’s outburst meant nothing at all.
“I did not betray the Duke,” Madeleina said, voice smooth, measured. “Nor the Dukedom. Everything that I have done is for the sake of the Duchy.”
The room went silent.
Aeliana’s breath hitched, her fingers twitching at her sides, but before she could spit another curse, her father moved.
Duke Thaddeus narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
There it was.
That measured, composed tone. That careful restraint. The way he held himself in the face of betrayal, in the face of emotions that should have shattered lesser men.
It was that very strength that had once drawn Madeleina to him.
And yet—
Now, it infuriated her.
Because he still didn’t see it.
He still didn’t understand.
Everything she had done. Every sacrifice. Every calculated step.
She clenched her hands at her sides, feeling her pulse hammering beneath her skin.
This was it.
This was her moment to make him see.
To explain.
To finally lay it bare, to make him understand why it had been necessary.
Her lips parted.
“I—”
But then—
Another voice.
Smooth. Lazy. Infuriatingly amused.
“I did it because Lady Aeliana was just…”
Madeleina’s breath caught.
Aeliana stiffened.
Duke Thaddeus’ gaze flickered, unreadable.
Lucavion leaned against the chair he had been occupying, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes gleaming with something far too knowing.
“…pandering off, exploiting, or drying—whichever word you prefer.”
He smirked.
“She was damaging both the Duke and the Duchy.”
Silence.
Thick. Suffocating.
“This was what you were going to say, isn’t that right?”
He dropped the bomb.
*******
A theater.
That was what this was.
A grand, tragic play unfolding before my very eyes, with every actor playing their role to perfection.
Madeleina, standing tall, unwavering, her silver-blue eyes burning—not with guilt, not with shame, but with desire.
Not for redemption.
Not for forgiveness.
But for him.
For Duke Thaddeus.
Even now, even after her betrayal had been dragged into the open, after Aeliana had screamed her fury for the entire mansion to hear, there was no regret in her.
Only conviction.
Only certainty.
And Aeliana?
Ah.
Aeliana’s gaze turned toward me, wide and burning, her hands trembling at her sides. Not with fear. Not with weakness.
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But with anger.
Raw, unfiltered hatred.
And the Duke?
His golden eyes, sharp as a blade, flicked toward me at last.
“You,” he said, his voice low, simmering with restrained fury.
The weight of his gaze was heavy, pressing, but I did not shrink beneath it.
Instead, I tilted my head slightly, watching him, watching them all, utterly amused by the chaos unraveling before me.
“I have tolerated you long enough.”
A strong statement.
A final warning.
A lesser man might have faltered. Might have lowered his head in submission. Might have stepped back and let the drama unfold without another word.
But me?
Ah.
How could I possibly stop now?
I exhaled lightly, shaking my head as I leaned just a little further into the chair, my arms still crossed, my smirk widening ever so slightly.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, Your Grace…” I murmured, voice slow, deliberate, edged with amusement. “But I simply couldn’t hold myself back when I saw something like this.”
I let my eyes drift over the three of them—Madeleina, Aeliana, the Duke—taking in the emotions crackling between them like a storm about to break.
“It reminded me of something,” I continued, voice almost thoughtful now. “Something from the past.”
Because it did.
This entire scene—this heavy air, this unspoken war of justifications and betrayals, of loyalty twisted into something unrecognizable—
It reminded me of someone.
Someone I had left behind.
Someone I would never be able to forget.
“Right.”
And as that thought settled in my mind, I couldn’t help it.