In the gilded study of the Arvand mansion, Elyse wept prettily into a silk handkerchief, her fingers trembling as they rested in her father's grasp. The light caught the wet shimmer of her tears, the pale curve of her mouth quivering just so... just enough to make Hadrian Arvand's heart twist.
"My own sister," she choked, voice as fragile as spun glass. "I tried, Father. I truly did. I even praised her dress, even though it looked like something salvaged from a servant's trunk. And you know me, I never lie. But I tried."
Hadrian clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around hers.
"She humiliated you?" he asked, voice low.
Elyse hesitated, then gave the smallest, saddest nod. "In front of everyone. As if I were the intruder. The poor, pathetic guest begging for scraps of attention." She gave a breathless, broken laugh. "It's Leroy, isn't it? He's back, and now she thinks she's Queen of the manor. As if a silent mongrel with a cursed existence could outshine me."
