CHAPTER 79: LEROY’S REACTION

Aldric rushed to Lorraine’s side. Emma was quicker.

She shoved past him with surprising force, falling to her knees beside Lorraine. Sylvia hovered just behind, arms half-raised, ready to catch her if she swayed. But Lorraine didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She simply stared at the diagonal slash across her painted mouth.

Of course, Elyse loved her most when she was silent.

Elyse had always won when Lorraine had stayed quiet; back in their father’s house, back when silence meant survival, and back when Elyse’s smiles held approval only if Lorraine stayed small.

But even then, had Elyse ever truly won?

Lorraine’s heart twisted. The painting wasn’t just a portrait—it was the only one ever made of her. Even as a child, no one had cared enough. Elyse had portraits done twice a year: one alone in her finery, another with the family, always in the center. Lorraine had stood in corners, out of frame, unnoticed, forgotten.

This had been the exception.

She’d been sixteen when Leroy had commissioned it, young and in love, too naive to see that a canvas couldn’t make someone stay. For a time, she’d clung to it, considering it proof that she had once been chosen. But years has passed. That girl in the painting has became a stranger. A fool.

Perhaps it was fitting. Perhaps it was time.

"Your Highness..." Aldric’s voice was soft as he stepped in front of her.

Lorraine blinked. She hadn’t realized tears had fallen. She wiped them quickly, her eyes meeting his.

Aldric looked like he wanted to embrace her. Emma and Sylvia watched, visibly tense, waiting for her to lean on them if she so chose. Even the nearby staff stood still, subdued, offering silent comfort.

Lorraine smiled.

Let Elyse sneer. Let Leroy ignore her. She still had people who saw her. People who stayed. That was enough.

"I’ll send this for repair," Aldric said gently, signing the words as he spoke.

Lorraine’s smile deepened, this time, truly. He always signed, even when she pretended she could read lips. He never made her ask. He just remembered.

She shook her head.

"It’s fine. Leave it as it is. No one’s going to notice anyway", she signed.

"But..." Aldric frowned, eyes wide. "It’s damaged."

Lorraine turned her gaze back to the ruined painting. The old version of herself still smiled on that canvas, foolish and bright-eyed. But now, at least, it told the truth.

Let it stay broken, she thought. It’s honest, now.

She said nothing more, only turned and began climbing the stairs. Emma and Sylvia followed silently, their steps soft behind her.

Aldric watched her retreating figure, then turned back to the painting. His jaw tensed.

This had always been Leroy’s favorite. Just days ago, he’d caught the prince staring at it, long and still, as if lost in thought. He wouldn’t be pleased if he noticed this ruined painting.

Then it dawned on him.

Maybe that was exactly why the princess had asked to leave it as it is. Maybe she wanted Leroy to see it like this. Maybe she wanted to see how he’d react.

Aldric folded his arms, eyes narrowing.

Yes. He, too, was curious.

How would the prince react when he learned his first love had defaced the only portrait of his wife?

-----

Leroy returned nearly two hours later, Cedric trailing behind him.

The moment they stepped in, Leroy sensed it — that quiet, tense shift in the air. The staff moved like someone had died. Eyes darted. Backs stiffened.

He paused at the base of the grand staircase. His instincts stirred. Something was wrong. Cedric, too, felt it and rushed to Zara’s room.

"Aldric!" Leroy barked.

And then he saw it.

The portrait...her portrait... the one he always noticed on his way up, was slashed. Not a small scratch. A bold, ugly line across Lorraine’s face.

He stepped closer, breath tightening. "Who did this?" he asked.

No answer.

He turned around slowly. "WHO DID THIS?"

The silence snapped. Aldric rushed down the steps, jaw clenched, tone barely hiding his disdain. "Lady Elyse visited earlier. She... accidentally scratched it. Since the painting was old, she said it ruined easily."

Leroy’s eyes sharpened. "Elyse?"

For a second, it looked like he’d calmed down. But Aldric knew better. He saw it... the volcano bubbling underneath. That eerie quiet Leroy got before he exploded dangerously.

"She said she was here to invite Zara to some ladies’ party," Aldric added, sharper now. "Said she didn’t want to burden the Princess with the shame of not being invited."

Leroy’s brow furrowed. "Zara? Why her?"

Aldric stared at him. Was he being dense or just pretending? He tested the waters. "Because she’s your mistr—"

Before he could finish, Cedric came bounding down the stairs, face pale. "Zara!" he gasped. "She’s getting worse. She can’t feel her hands again!"

Leroy turned sharply between the two of them, jaw ticking. "Call for the doctor," he muttered, then looked at the painting again, lingering.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In her room," Aldric replied.

"In her room," Cedric said at the same time.

Leroy paused. His eyes flicked between them, then landed on Aldric. Aldric was the one who always knew what "she"meant.

"Did she eat?" Leroy asked, voice quieter now. More human.

Aldric gave a small nod. "She had a hearty meal and is resting."

"She’s not hurt anywhere?" Leroy pressed.

"No," Aldric said gently. "She cried, but aside from that~"

"She cried?" Leroy echoed, taken aback.

Cedric visibly bristled. His fists clenched. He had rushed to say Zara had lost sensation again. And Leroy was stuck on that woman crying?

He turned away. Fine. Let him worry about his weeping wife. Cedric would take care of Zara.

"Just a little," Aldric added carefully.

Leroy turned back to the portrait. "Replace it," he said. "With one of hers."

"Um... there isn’t another," Aldric replied.

Leroy stiffened. "What about the other portraits I commissioned over the years?" he snapped. "Every year. I asked for them. Where are they?"

Aldric swallowed. "The Princess said she was too busy to sit for them."

Leroy went quiet.

His jaw worked as his hands curled at his sides. His face flushed with rising anger and maybe something else. Something quieter. Older.

Without a word, he turned and began walking up the stairs. His steps were stiff, purposeful. Aldric followed him with his eyes, tense with unease.

Was he going to the princess? Was he going to explode at her?

Aldric swallowed. Lorraine hadn’t looked well when he’d last seen her. And now... Leroy looked like a storm wrapped in skin.

But just before he reached her door, Leroy paused. Then he turned and headed the other way, toward the study.

Now Aldric really frowned.

Silently, he followed, stopping just outside the doorway. He saw Leroy step in and slam the door shut but not before muttering under his breath:

"That darn little mouseling... Had enough time to silver-coat every gold she hoarded, but couldn’t sit for one bloody portrait?"

Aldric blinked.

Mouseling?What in all heavens did that even mean?

He stood there for a long moment, uncertain. Then, eventually, he turned away. Whatever was going on inside that head of Leroy’s, it wasn’t something he could predict tonight.

But one thing still nagged at him: Elyse.

Surely by now, Leroy had heard the rumors. The gossip wasn’t even subtle anymore. Everyone knew Elyse was circling, desperate, bold, clinging to what she thought she was owed. She wasn’t just a visitor with sharp nails and bad taste. She was a problem.

And still... Leroy locked himself in the study. Alone.

Or so Aldric thought.

Because later, deep into the night, when even the guards were half asleep, Aldric saw something.

A dark figure cloaked in shadow, slipping past the stables and vanishing into the trees behind the estate. The path taken wasn’t the main one. It wasn’t even one most remembered.

But Aldric did. He stayed perfectly still behind the stone column as the figure disappeared into the woods. His heart beat faster.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Leroy had started to act.

Things are getting interesting. Very interesting.