CHAPTER 125: A FATHER’S PLEA

Lorraine watched, silent, as her father tried to seize control of the moment. His arrogance clung to him like armor, as if words alone could free him.

"Whoever paid you will regret it. Once I walk free, there won’t be a rock in this kingdom you could crawl under that I won’t overturn," Hadrian said, his voice a mixture of scorn and certainty.

Lorraine tilted her head. That would only matter if she intended to let him go.

"You didn’t even ask about your daughter," she said softly. It was a pointless question. Still, it slipped from her, raw and aching.

Hadrian scoffed. "Daughter?" His silence afterward cut sharper than any insult. Then, with a bitter curl of his lips, he muttered, "Maybe her curse is real. I was untouched all these years, and the one time I ride with her, I end up here."

Lorraine laughed. The sound was hollow, bitter. When others whispered "cursed," it stung. But when he said it, it was almost comical. He didn’t even realize the truth. He didn’t know the curse was standing right in front of him.

Hadrian shifted tactics. "At least undo my shackles. I need to use the chamber pot." His tone dripped with calculated indignation. Surely, he thought, modesty would compel her to leave him dignity.

Lorraine’s lips curled in a cruel smile. "Chamber pot?" She leaned forward, her voice lowering. "Do what your daughter did in her cell. You can’t even hear her screaming, do you? She’s that silent. Learn from her. Piss yourself. You think I’ll waste resources on your comfort? What next? A servant? A chef?" She slammed her hand against the armrest, the sound echoing in the damp stone.

Her throat tightened; her eyes burned. She remembered. She remembered being too broken to move, lying in her own filth for days because no one dared to help. She remembered the shame of soiling herself under his blows, and the harsher strikes that followed when the stench betrayed her weakness. She remembered wishing, praying, to be seen as human.

And now he dared to demand dignity?

In the shadows, her men shifted uneasily. Even killers who would slit throats on her command flinched at the cruelty in her words. But Lorraine didn’t care. Let them judge. They hadn’t lived her childhood. They hadn’t been silenced into breathing through pain, into swallowing cries that only earned more lashes.

Her father had stripped her of humanity. Today, she would return the favor.

"I am not a savage like that mongrel!" Hadrian bellowed, fury overtaking fear. "I will not accept this humiliation! Let me speak to the one who truly ordered this! Who is it?"

Lorraine gave the smallest flick of her fingers. A figure peeled from the shadows, whip coiled in hand.

"I don’t want him dead," she said flatly. "Keep him awake. He should feel every whip."

"I dare you to~ Ah!!!"

Whip after whip landed on Hadrian’s back. Lorraine sat and watched, her nails biting crescents into the armrest of her chair. His screams tore through the dungeon, echoing off the damp stone walls, but they did not move her. They only fueled the fire that had been burning inside her for years.

"Hit him until he stays silent," she commanded, her voice low, steady, and merciless. "Awake, silent, and swallowing his pain."

That was what he had done to her. Silence her. Break her until her cries dried in her throat. Beat her until she learned that screaming only brought more pain.

Her eyes flickered, shadows of memory pulling at her chest. The days she had lain in her own filth, unable to move, her body broken and trembling under the weight of blows. The way her throat had closed around her voice, until the silence itself became a prison. The nights she had prayed to gods who never answered, swallowing tears in the dark, because to cry was to invite another round of punishment.

Now the tables had turned. Now it was he who would learn what it meant to beg for a voice and receive none.

Hadrian’s cries grew ragged, breaking into hoarse gasps. His body arched against the restraints, shuddering, skin tearing with each lash. Lorraine leaned forward, her smirk sharp, cruel.

"Louder," she whispered, as if mocking him. "Is this all you can manage? The great Hadrian... couldn’t even follow a simple order—do not make noise!"

That was what he always told her ’Do not make noise. You despise me.’

When finally his voice cracked into silence, whether from exhaustion or pain, Lorraine stood. Her heels clicked against the stone as she walked to him, her shadow stretching long across his broken frame. She crouched, close enough for him to hear the venom in her whisper.

"Do you understand now?" she asked, her voice soft but cutting. "This is not about money. This is not about politics. This is me."

"W—" he gasped, his lips cracked, his breath ragged. He looked at her the way a beaten hound waiting to see if it was allowed to whimper. Pain had a way of teaching obedience. When she gave no sign to stop him, he rasped, "Why?"

Lorraine tilted her head, studied him as if his broken body were a puzzle piece she had grown bored with. "Hmm... Think about it."

Hadrian’s head sagged against his shoulder, his strength leaking out of him. His silence disgusted her.

"This is not as interesting as I thought it would be," Lorraine murmured, turning away. "You give up so easily, Hadrian." She let her voice harden, sharp enough to slice through the dungeon air. "By the way... do you think the jewel of House Arvand—your precious Elyse—would be looking for you now? Will she come searching for you here?"

The name lingered like venom on her tongue.

Instantly, Hadrian’s broken posture snapped with fury. "Don’t you dare involve Elyse in this. Don’t you dare utter her name with your filthy mouth!" His voice cracked, raw with something she had never heard from him before—panic. "You’re not worth a speck of dust beneath her shoe!"

Lorraine froze. The words slammed into her like a lash across her own back.

Her father, the man who once laughed when she cried, who mocked her as she lay trembling in her own blood and filth, who never once flinched when she begged for mercy, couldn’t even bear to imagine Elyse here.

That wasn’t allowed. That couldn’t be allowed.

"Now you’ve convinced me," Lorraine said coldly, her velvet cloak whispering as she turned. Her words curled with poison, but underneath them trembled something raw, something broken. "You should stay with your family. Why should your unwanted daughter be the only one having all the fun?"

"No..." Hadrian’s voice cracked open into desperation. He pressed his torn palms together, forcing his broken body upright to plead. "I beg you... leave Elyse out of this. Please. I’ll do anything—anything you ask. Just... keep Elyse safe."

Lorraine’s heart twisted, sharp and unbearable.

This man... this monster...was begging now.

For Elyse.

Her chest burned with a question she couldn’t keep down.

Do you love her that much? And if you could... why not me?