He scoffed, crossing his arms.
"You think I would drag my own sister's honor through the mud?" His voice was laced with irritation. "They're claiming she was a mistress… that she bore an illegitimate child. Do you truly believe I would allow such disgrace to taint her name, I'm done with this drama, you can leave now?"
Hearing his response, Olivia felt her suspicions waver. With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and made her way toward her chambers. But as she walked, her mind swirled with questions.
"If not him, then who?"
Settling onto the velvet sofa in her dimly lit room, Olivia let her thoughts consume her. "Who would have the most to gain from revealing Kael and Leila's secret marriage? And more importantly… how does this all tie back to my father?"
She clenched her fingers against the armrest. Only a handful of people had known about Kael and Leila's relationship.
"Mathais and I can be ruled out. And Leon? No, he would never endanger his own sister. That leaves only one person..."
A name surfaced in her mind.
"Isabella."
Her eyes darkened with determination.
"If Isabella is behind this, I will find out."
She turned sharply toward the door.
"Kira, come here."
The servant girl arrived swiftly, her posture obedient as she stood before Olivia.
"Yes, My Lady? What do you require?"
Without a word, Olivia reached for two small pouches and placed them onto the table. The soft clinking of gold coins filled the room.
"Why do you work as a servant here?"
Kira's expression flickered with sorrow before she answered hesitantly. "My father passed away, and I must provide for my sick mother and younger siblings." Her voice wavered, the pain of her circumstances evident.
Olivia leaned forward slightly, her tone turning almost… indulgent.
"Then tell me, Kira… would this amount be enough to treat your mother's illness?"
Kira's eyes widened. "W-What?"
Olivia's smile was unreadable. "I asked if this gold would be enough to feed your siblings and heal your mother."
There was a long silence before Kira finally nodded, her voice a whisper. "Yes… it would be more than enough." But uncertainty flickered in her eyes, as if she still did not understand the purpose of this sudden generosity.
Olivia lifted the pouch and placed it firmly in the girl's trembling hands.
"Then it is yours."
Kira gasped before falling to her knees in gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace! Thank you!"
Olivia raised a hand, stopping her. "Enough thanks, Kira. I have another offer for you." A smirk curled on her lips. "I could give you the second pouch as well… but it depends on whether or not you accept a request from me."
Kira nodded frantically. "Anything, My Lady! Just command me!"
Olivia tilted her head, studying the girl's eagerness.
"You've been working here for quite some time, haven't you? You must know the habits of every servant. I need you to find out something for me."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Isabella… does she receive letters sealed with the emblem of a butterfly?"
Kira blinked in confusion before realization dawned on her. Olivia continued smoothly, "You are free to refuse if this request makes you uncomfortable."
But Kira's eyes lit up with determination. "I promise, My Lady! You will have your answer before the night is over!"
Olivia smiled, pleased. "I knew I could trust you. Take the second pouch, then. Consider it a token of my confidence."
Kira grasped the pouch tightly, her face glowing with excitement as she hurried out of the room.
Once the door shut behind her, Olivia leaned back against the sofa, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.
"Well, Isabella… everyone thinks you are an angel. But tonight, we shall see your true nature."
The kitchen was alive with the chatter of maids, their laughter and excited voices filling the warm space. Each one spoke passionately of what delighted her most—one of love, another of family, and yet another of dreams too distant to grasp. Amid the lively conversation, Kira, leaned in close to Sola and grasped her wrist with a spark of urgency.
"Sola, come with me for a moment," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with intrigue.
Sola frowned, pulling back slightly. "Me? Why?"
"Yes, you. Just follow me," Kira insisted, giving her a playful tug.
With a reluctant sigh, Sola allowed herself to be led away, slipping behind the large wooden door of the kitchen. There, in the dim glow of a flickering lantern, they vanished from sight.
Sola crossed her arms. "Alright, Kira, what's this all about? Why did you drag me over here?"
Instead of answering immediately, Kira reached into the folds of her apron and pulled out a handful of gold coins. Ten in total. They shimmered under the faint light, their luster undeniable. She placed them in Sola's palm with a knowing smirk.
Sola gasped, her breath catching in her throat. She nearly dropped the coins as she stepped back in alarm. "Kira! Where did you get this? Tell me you didn't steal from the Duchess!"
Kiera was quick—her hand shot out and clamped over Sola's mouth. "Hush! You'll get us both into trouble," she hissed. Then, with a coy smile, she added, "I didn't steal them. Consider it... a gift."
Sola's brows knitted together in suspicion. "A gift? I don't believe you. What do you want from me?"
She smile widened, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. "Oh, come now, we're friends, aren't we? You may keep them, all of them. I only ask for one small thing in return."
Sola eyed her warily. "And what is that?"
"You're one of the maids assigned to clean Lady Isabella's chambers, aren't you?"
A slow nod. "Yes… Why?", You're not trying to involve me in some scheme against the Duchess, are you?"
Kira scoffed. "Oh, please. Nothing so dramatic. I just have a simple question—does Lady Isabella receive letters with a butterfly seal?"
At this, Sola's grip on the coins tightened. She looked at them, feeling the weight of a sum she had never held before. The prospect of such wealth clouded her thoughts. Then, with a glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was near, she stepped closer to Kira and whispered,
"She does. Occasionally, letters arrive with a butterfly seal. I don't know what family it belongs to—it's quite unique. Perhaps a friend of hers, or something of the sort."
Her's gaze sharpened. "And where does she keep them?"
Sola hesitated. "I… I don't know."
Kira sighed, reaching into her pocket once more. Another ten coins clinked as they fell into Sola's trembling hands. With a charming tilt of her head, Kiera murmured, "Perhaps this will help your memory?"
Sola swallowed hard. Her pulse quickened. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, "She keeps them in her jewelry box."
A victorious glint flashed in Kiera's eyes. She patted Sola's arm gently. "Thank you, Sola. You may go now."
And with that, Kiera turned on her heel, already planning her next move.
She moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors of the grand estate, her pulse quickening with each step. The weight of her newfound knowledge pressed upon her, and though the hour was late—nearly eleven—she did not hesitate. Reaching the Duchess's chamber, she took a deep breath before rapping lightly on the door.
A cool, commanding voice answered from within. "Enter."
Kiera pushed the heavy door open, stepping inside cautiously. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting golden hues over the lavish furnishings. Olivia, reclined gracefully on a velvet chaise, her silk nightgown draped effortlessly over her form. There was an air of practiced indifference about her, yet her beauty was undeniable. For a brief moment, Kiera found herself staring, entranced, before Olivia's voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.
"Well?" Her lips curled slightly. "Do you have news for me?"
Kira straightened, schooling her expression into one of confidence. "I never break a promise, my lady," she said smoothly. "As you suspected, Lady Isabella does receive letters bearing the butterfly seal. And I have discovered where she keeps them—in her jewelry box."
A slow, knowing smile spread across Olivia's lips. Rising from the chaise with an almost feline grace, she crossed the room toward Kira, stopping just close enough for her breath to graze the maid's ear.
"I knew I chose the right person for the task," she murmured. Then, in a voice so soft yet laced with venom, she added, "But you do understand what will happen if you betray me, don't you?"
Kira swallowed hard.
"I will bury you," Olivia whispered. "And your family along with you. Is that clear?"
A shiver ran down Kira's spine. She nodded quickly, her hands trembling. "Y-yes, my lady."
She pulled away, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "Good. Now," she turned, her tone light once more, "bring me two crystal glasses and a bottle of wine. It seems the night is just beginning."
A gentle knock echoed through Isabella's chamber. She sat by the fireplace, a cup of tea cradled between her hands, its warmth soothing the weariness of the day.
"Come in," she called, expecting nothing out of the ordinary.
The door opened, and in walked Olivia, a confident smirk adorning her lips. In one hand, she held two glasses; in the other, a bottle of deep, crimson wine.
Isabella rose swiftly, setting her cup down. "Your Grace," she greeted, a hint of surprise in her voice. "To what do I owe this late-night visit?"
Without waiting for an invitation, Olivia settled into the armchair opposite her, crossing one leg over the other in a display of effortless dominance. She placed the glasses and bottle on the table between them, then met Isabella's eyes with a glint of amusement.
"I realized something rather peculiar," she mused. "You and I have never shared an evening drink together. Strange, isn't it?"
Isabella hesitated, caught off guard. "I… suppose so?"
"Exactly." Olivia's smile was all charm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. "And so, I thought, why not change that tonight? After all, it's only fitting that I enjoy a drink with my dear sister-in-law, wouldn't you agree?"
The invitation felt less like an offer and more like a command. Before Isabella could object, Olivia was already pouring, filling both glasses with the rich, intoxicating liquid. She lifted one, extending it toward Isabella.
There was no way to refuse without raising suspicion. With a reluctant hand, Isabella accepted the glass. The two women sipped in silence, the firelight flickering between them.
Then, after a long pause, Olivia finally spoke again.
"So, Isabella…"
"Yes, Your Grace?"
Olivia tilted her head, watching her closely. "How do you find the wine?"
Isabella pursed her lips. "It's… good. Though a little sharp on the tongue."
Olivia's smile deepened. "Don't worry," she murmured, taking another slow sip. "You'll get used to it."
The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the lavish chamber as Olivia swirled the wine in her glass, watching Isabella with an amused glint in her eye. The air between them was heavy with unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills unfolding in the dim glow of the fireplace. Neither woman betrayed emotion, their faces unreadable, as though the first to falter would concede defeat.
Then, with the deliberate grace of a predator toying with its prey, Olivia set her glass down and leaned forward, her voice smooth as silk.
"I wanted to ask you something, Isabella."
Isabella remained composed, though a slight shift in her posture betrayed her unease. "Of course, Your Grace."
"Why did you leak the news of Kyle and Laila's affair to the press—or, more precisely, to my father, when did this lovely relationship start?"