The marble floor was cold against her palms and knees. e barely noticed. Her hair hung in disarray over her face, strands stig to her damp skin. She k inside her father's office like a sve, waiting.

  Her father stood above her, his breath heavy with rage. "An affair with a servant," he spat, the words thick with disgust. "Like some on whore."

  e smiled. Not because she roud. Not because she was ashamed. But because it was ughable how little worth he g on her.

  "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

  e tilted her head, her lips quirked upward, a shadow of a smile, "I've made your burden lighter, haven't I? No more o parade me like cattle at au."

  The sp came hard, sending her sprawling forward. The sting radiated through her skull, but she only licked the blood from her lip with a chuckle.

  "I thought even you would know better than to embarrass this family," The Duke growled. "Now, look at the mess you've made."

  "Duke of Rochefort afraid of a sdal?" e let out a soft ugh, "How could such a thing sully our name? We are Rocheforts, we do whatever we want and everyone looks away. They have no choice. Why? Because our name carries power, not good sense."

  Her father's face darkened. "You do not uand the sequences–"

  "No," she cut him off, her voice cool, her eyes freezing. "You don't uand. A Rochefort isn't ruined by sdal. They defi, own it, and turn it into power. If anything, the real disgrace is that you see this as weakness instead of opportunity. Grandfather did not build this empire by bowing his head. He didn't fear the public eye. He relished in it, he fed on it. And so will I. And so should you."

  She tinued, her tone rising, her voice growing stronger. "Bowing down to the whispers of society is weak. It's pathetic. It's disgraceful. But if you think differently, then please, do me a favor and slit my throat here. It would be more haing y my hrough the mud, just because you 't handle a little gossip."

  "Enough!" her father roared.

  "I thought so." e slowly rose to her feet. "Grandfather's vision is fading, and you are letting it slip away. If you 't accept that, then kill me and have someone else who's willing to fight for this family. Or, if you are not willing to dirty your hands, then leave me be, a me do what you're too afraid to."

  "Your brother died because of the same arrogance! I'm not going to let you repeat his mistake!" Her father gripped her shoulders and shook her, "Do you think I don't know why he died?! He died because he had the same stupid pride you have! And I'll be damned if I lose another child to this delusion!"

  "He was murdered!" e screamed, the words ripping out of her chest, tearing opehroat, "Murdered by the people you bow to, the people you cower to! How is that any less disgraceful?! How are you any less shameful froveling at their feet, when you have the power to rise above?!"

  Her father struck her again, the sound ringing through the room. "He was a traitor, and he paid the price," her snarled, his fingers digging into her arms, "He chose to die. And I will not let you follow in his footsteps."

  e looked up at her father, the heat rising in her chest. She took a deep breath and forced herself to su the tears that stung her eyes, to force back the emotions that threateo spill from her lips, a her words fall like ice, "Then kill me, Father. Kill me, a history fet the name Rochefort. Let it wither and fade and die. Let yacy rot. I don't care. Do whatever you want. But the ohing you ot do, is make me kneel before those who should kneel before us. And if you do not see that, then kill me."

  Her father's fingers loosened.

  His hand dropped.

  And his voice, his voice was nothing but a whisper, "Sometimes, it's better to bow in order to protect what's truly important. If not for me, do it for your mother."

  "If only bowing was enough to secure a better future, then we wouldn't be having this versation," e said, the cruel truth dripping from her lips.

  Her father took a step back, as if struck. His face torted in pain, but then just as quickly, it was gone, buried once more behind a mask of stone as he ged the topic, "The army's leaving tomorrow. Make sure to watch me at the ceremony. I still put on a show when I want to, and you learn a thing or two from that."

  e smiled, quiirror his shift iion, "I will, Father."

  He nodded and gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. "Protect Mother and the estate while I'm gone, alright? You may not have been born a son, but you're all I have now."

  "Yes, Father." e saw the need for solitude in his eyes, so she bowed her head and quietly left his office.

  · · ─────── · ???· ─────── · ·

  The torches flickered as she passed by the hallway, casting long shadows against the stone walls. The air grew colder, heavier, and suffog. e reached the door of her mother's chambers. It creaked as she pushed it open.

  The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the st of dried vender failing to mask the underlying siess in the air. Her mother y on the grand bed, swallowed by silk sheets and embroidered pillows.

  e stepped forward.

  "...Edmund..."

  e stilled.

  Her mother's lips moved, whispering a hat wasn't hers.

  "...Edmund..."

  She whispered again. A fragile, broken sound.

  "...my son..."

  e lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, smoothing the wrinkles in the bs with slow, careful hands. "Mother," she said, her voice even, trolled.

  Her mother's eyes fluttered, gssy and distant, staring past her ─ through her.

  "...Edmund...Is that...you?"

  "It's me, e." She swallowed back the bitterness ihroat, aed, louder, clearer, her tone clipped, almost curt, "I will be representing the house at the uping ba, siher will be absent. I wish for you to join me, should you feel well enough. Your support would be invaluable."

  But her mother didn't seem to hear, didn't seem to care.

  e stood up. "Rest well, Mother." She bowed her head a.

  · · ─────── · ???· ─────── · ·

  e slumped against the wall, the heat fading, the rage melting away. She slid down the length of the hallway. Her fingers dug into her arms, ging onto her body as if it were the only thing keeping her whole.

  The maids, the servants, the guards, all silent. Traio keep their gaze down, their ears shut.

  "You," e called out, "All of you, gather everyone. Every maid, every cook, every stable boy, every guard. The staff, the gardeners. Gather everyone, a me in the ballroht now."

  They stared at her, fusion clouding their eyes.

  e gnced up, her stare enough to send them rushing down the hall, the echo of their footsteps ringing in the emptiness.

  A minute passed.

  Five.

  Ten.

  And the doors of the ballroom swung open.

  Silence.

  Their eyes, ohey noted how e stood, slightly disheveled, her faewhat swollen and pale at the same time, yet still trasting with the force that radiated from her.

  e looked out at the sea of faces. Faces, whose names she never knew, whose stories she never bothered to ask. Faces, that had served her all her life.

  "I know what you think of me, and I've dohing to make you think otherwise," e began, "I am not here to tell you I am i. I am here, because I want you to know that the person who died was a servant like you. A servant, who was born, and lived, and breathed for the Rochefort family."

  Her hands ched, her nails digging into her palms.

  "Tell me, who is more deserving of my respey passion, of my uanding, than the one who is loyal to me until the end? A, I'm being called a disgrace, a failure, a shame, a stain, when the only stain here is his blood, left unavenged and ignored?"

  Her words echoed through the room, her voice rising.

  "An affair, a loveless marriage, an illegitimate heir, a broken e, a fallen woman, a bastard child, a disgraced house, a ruined name – none of these break a Rochefort. Many tried, many failed, and many will tio try. But there is ohing that ot be overe, and that is the absence of a Rochefort. Without a Rochefort, the peads, and the power is up frabs."

  Sdal, gossip, misfortuhese were mere inveniences, not threats. A Rochefort did not break under shame, did not ko she House had weathered worse: betrayal, exile, war. Whispers could not kill what was built to st.

  "So instead of wasting time on your stupid, pointless, mindless gossip, spend it on ensuring the future of the House, not its destru. Ye is the product of the House's profit, not its ruin, and the sooner you uand that, the sooner you stop wasting my time oures nobody wants to hear, and please my ear with ideas that are actually worthwhile."

  Their heads bowed, their eyes cast downward, and she khey uood.

  She ughed, lifting the mood, breaking the tension. "You don't expect me to raise your pay by getting on my nerves, do you? If you want the s, give me a reason to throw them. Am I clear?"

  "Yes, My Lady!" The room thundered.

  "Good. Now get back to work."

  They scurried out of the ballroom, their steps light, holding their chest, hearts beating rapidly as if they'd just returned from an iion room.

  Rocheforts didn't need a spotless reputation to wield influence. Power spoke louder than gossip, and Lady e knew how to make it talk.

  A broken e with the Royal Family? It didn't seem like the Rocheforts cared at all!

  Lady e even began to parade her new boy toys in publi provocation, funtiatus and freedom, her wealth and power.

  Instead of punishing his daughter for her sdalous behavior, the Duke of Rochefort publicly announced his support, "These young men are undergoing special training under my daughter's guidance. She is personally ensuring they reach their full potential, and if all goes well, I will sider adopting one of them into the family."

  The nobles were baffled by this, and even the on folk had no idea what the Duke's true iions were.

  Eventually, the sdal turned into a political spiracy theory.

  The Rochefort line was in danger of extin. With no male heir to secure its legacy, there was no need for an alliahrough marriage – no powerful house to swoop in and seize trol uhe guise of unity. What they needed pet to carry the family name.

  · · ─────── · ???· ─────── · ·

  The carriage rattled over the cobbled streets.

  Lu sat with one leg crossed over the loved fingers drumming idly against the polished wood of the armrest.

  He exhaled, tilting his head back against the cushioned seat.

  How foolish.

  For a moment – just a fleeting sed – he had almost been worried.

  Worried that he wouldn't make it in time.

  When the rumors first reached him, he had eaihe thought that perhaps, this time, e had miscalcuted. That perhaps, for once, she had pushed too far, too recklessly, and was now drowning uhe weight of her own ruin.

  But now?

  A ugh slipped from his lips.

  Foolish, really.

  For a moment, he had sidered his assistaake advantage of her moment of weakness, and bring her down to her knees, make her regret the day she decided to treat him worse than the dirt beh her shoes. But then, he had remembered just what sort of woman Lady e Rochefort was.

  Her ruined reputation was a trap, and everyone walked right into it. They thought they were watg the Rocheforts's downfall, eager to use it to their advantage. But that was just an illusion – ohey happily bought, and ohe Rocheforts were happy to sell.

  The carriage came to a halt, and Lu stepped out, his boots clig sharply on the cobblestones. He paused for a moment, letting his gaze rise to the t castle ahead.

  The sight was magnifit, shimmering with opulence, like something carved from a dream.

  But he was not here to admire the view.

  With a final breath, Lu straightened, his face a mask of indifference.

  He walked forward, each step unhurried.