CHAPTER 80: A FATHER’S LOVE

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."

Hadrian’s blood boiled. The nerve. That shame of a daughter—useless, barely tolerable even when she was still under his roof. If she thought herself worthy now just because that Kaltharion prince had returned, she was deluded.

Elyse dabbed at her eyes with practiced grace, peeking at him from beneath thick lashes. "But maybe I deserve it," she whispered. "For loving too much. For trying too hard to belong." She leaned closer, voice honeyed and raw. "I even complimented her portrait. You know how painful that was for me. After everything she’s taken from me."

Hadrian stroked her hand, his expression softening with concern. "She’s always envied you, Elyse. Since you were girls. You were the prettiest, and she...well, no one could look at her twice or bear with her. It must be envy... even her husband wants you and she knows it."

"She stole him," Elyse said, barely above a murmur. "You know it. Everyone knows it. But I stayed gracious. I let her have that little scrap of happiness because I thought maybe she needed it more than I did."

Her voice cracked at just the right place. "And this is how she repays me."

Hadrian stood, his face dark with fury. "She’ll regret this. I promise you that."

Elyse gave a trembling sigh of relief, then pulled him gently back to sit. "No, Father. I don’t want revenge. I just want peace. But... maybe you could speak to the prince. Help him see what kind of woman he’s truly married. A mute shadow with venom in her smile. She hides behind silence, but don’t be fooled; there’s poison in that stillness."

He shook his head. "I don’t understand what he sees in her."

"Pity," Elyse said simply, brushing invisible tears from her cheek. "Or maybe pride. He wants to feel like a savior. Men do that sometimes, don’t they?" She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and glistening. "But not you. You’ve always seen me clearly. You’ve always known my worth."

Hadrian exhaled, anger cooling into purpose. "Leave it to me. If she thinks she’s out of my leash just because she carries the title of crown princess... if she thought she can humiliate my daughter and go unpunished..."

Elyse gave a soft, grateful smile, tucking her hand into his. "Thank you, Father. I knew you’d understand. Show her that what she has was never hers."

She rested her head on his shoulder like she had when she was ten and wanted a pretty dress well above her allowance, or fifteen and wanted a powerful suitor. And just like then, Hadrian believed every word.

She smiled to herself. She didn’t need to raise her voice to win. All she had to do was cry pretty and let other people set the fire.

-----

The moment Elyse left his study, Hadrian rose and walked straight to his desk.

He waited. Waited for the Dowager to make her move. But nothing happened. No summons from the Emperor. No invitation to discuss the annulment of that wretched marriage. No whisper of progress.

Only silence.

The same silence that wife of Leroy’s wore like a weapon. That mute mongrel was still clinging to her title as if she’d earned it. As if she belonged in a palace.

And the worst part? Leroy refused to even consider the annulment. "Not up for it," the Dowager had said, with her usual cryptic smirk, as if he were the unreasonable one for even asking.

Who was Leroy to decide? The boy was nothing without the Arvands. They had positioned him. And now, people were whispering that he was grooming the prince to take the throne for himself. Treason, they called it. Treason.

Hadrian clenched his jaw.

After the Norton girl’s death, the courtiers had grown wary. One by one, his friends distanced themselves. Business partners no longer came to him directly and went through his son. His meetings were canceled. His name, once spoken with fear and reverence, now carried the stink of downfall.

Even the Emperor, who used to offer him private audiences, who once sipped from cups Hadrian poured, now avoided his gaze.

And his son? That disappointment? He’d turned to commerce like a commoner, preaching about trade routes and long-term investments. No appetite for politics. No understanding of legacy.

Hadrian seethed, hands shaking.

Fools. All of them.

No king had ever ruled without the Arvand shadow behind his throne. And he wasn’t about to let that change.

Truth be told, for the first time in decades, Hadrian Arvand felt something dangerously close to fear. His grip was slipping, and he knew it. But he would not fall quietly. Not when Elyse was so close.

He was not just fighting for power. He was fighting for his daughter’s rightful crown.

Queen to King Leroy.

But now, that too was in jeopardy. Rumors stirred that the Kaltharion King planned to name Gaston as heir. Hadrian knew exactly why the King wanted that.

But that...that could not be allowed. His daughter didn’t like Gaston. She liked Leroy. And Leroy will be King.

He pulled out a parchment. His hand no longer shook as he wrote:

{See to it that Prince Leroy ascends the Kaltharion throne. You know well why it must be so. It would be most unfortunate, for all concerned, should the rightful order be disrupted.}

He folded the letter with care, pressed his signet to the wax, sealing it with the weight of legacy.

The Dowager was a clever woman. She would understand. This wasn’t a request. It was a warning.

And if she didn’t bow to it, Hadrian knew exactly how to light the kind of fire that would scorch the Dravenholt name down to the bone.

And that shame of Arvand family... must be silenced forever. She had overstayed her welcome in this world. Only then Elyse would stay happy.

-----

Hadrian glanced at his guard, who gave a silent nod in return.

He didn’t trust anyone, not fully. Wolves circled him, waiting for weakness. But he was the eagle, always watching from above, always a step ahead.

He took no chances.

Every night, his doors were bolted, his windows latched, and his blade stayed hidden beneath his pillow.

Power made men arrogant. But fear made them careful.

He entered his chambers with that same caution, locking the door behind him with an audible click. The servants had long since been dismissed. The room was bathed in warm candlelight, shadows dancing on the high walls of his sanctuary.

He pulled off his robes, slipped into his bed, and reached for the flame. Just as he leaned in to blow the candle out, he froze.

A shadow moved. A dark figure melted out of the darkness at the foot of his bed, silent and solid. He hadn’t heard a single step.

Hadrian’s instincts kicked in. In one swift motion, he threw the covers off and lunged for the dagger beneath his pillow. His fingers closed around the hilt...

But the figure was faster.

It leapt forward, wresting the blade from his grip, and slammed him back down with one hand. The other pressed cold steel to his throat.

Hadrian barely breathed.

Then the candlelight shifted, catching the figure’s face. His hood slipped.

That face... That birthmark...

His breath caught.

"...Leroy?"

That name slipped out like a curse.