[Season Two – Duclair Estate / Aftermath of Warning]
The grand Duclair estate, normally a haven of refinement and soft music, was currently shaking at its marble roots.
Somewhere between war and weeping.
Because Lucien Rynthall—noble rare male omega, bearer of fury, storm in silk—was now curled in the embrace of a woman with graying hair and diamond-dagger eyes.
Countess Isadora Duclair, the terror of teas and the undefeated queen of upper-crust rage.
Lucien clung to her like a lifeline, face buried in her neck, shoulders shaking like leaves in a thunderstorm.
"Aunty Isadoraaaa," he wailed, voice cracking with betrayal and snot, "I WAS BETRAYED!"
"There, there, my child… It's good. Let it all out." Isadora patted his back with the calm of someone who had comforted both colicky babies and decapitated traitors with equal grace.
But as she glanced down at Lucien's face—
"Oh dear," she muttered.
