"Her self-doubt kept growing. She'd pace around the manor muttering, 'Why isn't the Duke happy with our son? What did I do wrong?' And the moment you started walking and talking, she figured it out…"
"That I didn't have enough talent," Kael muttered, eyes darkening.
Memories swam to the surface—memories of shattered vases, cold screams, and a woman's trembling voice shrieking:
"You're useless! Trash! A disgrace! If only you had power! If only you were gifted! Then maybe he'd have loved me more!"
Kael's hands tightened slightly around Elfie, who stirred but remained asleep.
"When love is denied," Ramos said slowly, "it doesn't disappear—it rots. It festers. That young blooming flower turned into poison. And when she looked at your face, all she saw was Ruth. That made her hate you even more."
Kael closed his eyes.
"We called priests, healers, doctors… everyone. But nothing worked. It got to a point where if she even saw Ruth—or you—she'd try to take her own life."
