The heavy words hang in the air, thick and suffocating.
I stare at the Duke, my jaw tightening as the revelation echoes through the quiet room. For a second, the corporate armor I usually rely on completely cracks, and I am unable to hide the profound surprise washing over my face. My eyes widen, and my breath catches right in my throat.
But it isn't the truth itself that has paralyzed me.
My calculating mind had already deduced that the Duchess was likely the mastermind pulling the strings to punish or humiliate Elanore. No, what completely catches me off guard—what I never in a million years saw coming—is the man sitting right beside my bed.
The Duke is openly telling me everything.
Based on everything I had observed about this cold, ruthless Valerius household, the Duke never cared about Elanore. He had never shown her a single shred of affection or protection. I had always assumed that if he knew the Duchess despised his daughter, he simply chose to ignore it, prioritizing family politics over Elanore's life. Yet here he is, holding my hand, brutally uncovering the entire conspiracy, and explicitly taking my side while I am still recovering.
Why? The question screams in my mind. Why is he suddenly acting like a real father?
The Duke notices the distant, frantic look in my eyes. He gently presses his hand over mine, his grip firm and grounding.
"Don't worry about anything, my dear daughter," he says, his voice low and steady. "Everything is being handled. You do not have to overthink this. We have already taken care of the situation."
I take a steadying breath, shifting my expression to mirror the fragile, naive Elanore. I need to keep digging. If I want to see the extent of their "justice" against the Duchess, I need the Duke to spill every detail of the evidence.
"But... Father," I whisper, my voice trembling just enough to sound vulnerable. "Can you tell me more in detail? What happened to Mother? Why would she do something like that?"
I look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, feigning confusion. "Why do you think it was her? I... I think there might be some kind of misunderstanding. Could someone be forcing the blame onto Mother? Maybe she isn't the one who did this. Maybe she is a victim, just like me. Why are you so sure it was her, Father?"
The Duke's expression darkens, a flicker of something—pity?—crossing his features. He shakes his head slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand.
"You are just too kind, my dear daughter," he says, his tone heavy with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "It is your nature to see the good in others, even those who do not deserve it. But do not worry. We have the proof. We have the truth. It is all settled."
I let my shoulders slump, pretending to be utterly overwhelmed. I widen my eyes, letting a look of pure, manufactured fright consume my face as I stare at the Duke. If he's already acting as judge, jury, and executioner, then the Duchess is in serious trouble.
"I... I see," I murmur, my voice sounding small and frightened. "If you are sure, Father... then I will believe you."
I look down at the sheets, letting the silence fall. Internally, however, my mind is working at lightning speed. The Duke is shielding me. The Duchess is out of the picture. Everything I knew about the power dynamic in this house is officially obsolete.
The Duke watches me for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he lets out a short, sharp sigh.
"If you truly wish to know the specifics, Elanore, then I shall explain it all," he begins, his voice deepening as he prepares to lay out the full, ugly timeline of the betrayal.
But before the first true detail can escape his lips, a rhythmic, polite tapping echoes against the open bedroom door. It is the distinct, measured knock of someone who commands both discipline and decorum—a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy that had filled the room just moments ago.
We all turn toward the doorway. Standing there is a man who looks to be in his early sixties. He wears clean, scholarly robes that stand out against the opulent, dark aesthetic of the Valerius estate. Even from the bed, I can tell he is different; his posture is refined and academic, and his eyes carry a weary, sharp intelligence that feels completely detached from the Valerius family's cold, predatory aura.
He looks like a man of science, not a man of swords and politics.
Lily immediately drops into a deep, respectful curtsy the moment her eyes land on him. The Duke stands up from his chair, his posture shifting into a rare stance of deference. Even Orlando, who had been pacing earlier, stops mid-step and offers the man a curt, respectful nod.
Who is this? I wonder, my analytical mind instantly cataloging the anomaly. Even Orlando is showing him respect? In this household, that level of acknowledgment is reserved for royalty or someone with immense, necessary leverage.
"Yes, yes, come in," the Duke calls out, his voice losing its sharp edge. "Please, take a look at Elanore."
The older man steps into the room with a calm, practiced gait. I can't help but stare, my curiosity getting the better of me. When the Duke turns back to me, I lean in slightly.
"Father," I whisper, keeping my voice low. "I apologize, but... who is he? I find I cannot recognize him."
The Duke offers a rare, gentle smile. "My apologies, my dear. I should have introduced him properly. This is Mr. Lucius, the Royal Physician. He has been coming to the estate daily for the past eight days to tend to you while you were lost in your slumber. As soon as you finally opened your eyes, I sent an urgent message to his place to have him come and perform a final assessment on your vitals."
Mr. Lucius approaches the bedside, his expression kind and grandfatherly. He doesn't carry the cold, sharp air of a nobleman, but rather the quiet, steady confidence of someone who has mastered his craft.
"Good day to you, my Lady," he says, his voice soft and soothing. He offers a slight, formal bow before turning his attention to his medical kit. "I am Lucius. Please, do not be alarmed or nervous. I am simply here to ensure your recovery is proceeding exactly as it should. I am here to check your vitals, monitor your recovery, and discuss the schedule of rest and care you will need to follow for the coming weeks. Nothing serious at all, just a routine check-up."
I nod slowly, letting the 'Elanore' persona remain soft and compliant, but inside, my mind is racing. The Royal Physician? He's the one who has been observing my condition every single day of my coma.
This is a golden opportunity, I think, watching Lucius lay out his instruments. If he's been the one monitoring me, he might know far more about the state I was in—and perhaps why I fell into such a deep sleep to begin with.
"The Duke's revelation was interrupted just as he was about to name the architect of the betrayal, and now, the arrival of the Royal Physician adds an entirely new layer of uncertainty. While Mr. Lucius seems kind, Sara knows that in this estate, information is the most dangerous currency of all—and a man with royal access surely knows more than he lets on.
Will Mr. Lucius inadvertently reveal a clue during his examination that links back to the Duchess's plot? As he checks her vitals, will he notice that Elanore is no longer the girl he spent the last eight days monitoring?
Stay with us to find out how the story unfolds."