*Why on earth is he here?*
I was still reeling from the shock of his presence when his voice, sharp as a winter gale, cut through the garden.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The question was terrifyingly cold. I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin. *Is the play starting again?* I wondered. Judging by the angle Eric was standing at, he must have seen me wrenching my arm away from Madeleine.
I knew exactly what would happen next. It was a pattern I’d lived through a thousand times. Eric would be furious with me for "hurting" his precious Madeleine, and Madeleine would play the martyr, weeping softly while begging him to forgive her "cruel" cousin.
“I asked you a question,” Eric said, his voice thick with a controlled rage.
But as I braced for the reprimand, something impossible happened. Eric didn't move toward Madeleine. He stepped toward me, his arms wrapping around me in a protective, almost possessive embrace.
*What? Why is he holding me? Why isn't he going to her?*
“Eric...?” Madeleine’s voice was a soft, pathetic whimper. Even to me, she looked genuinely devastated.
Eric didn't even look at her. His voice remained as cold as ice. “Have you forgotten yourself, Lady Arguin? She is not in a condition to be handled so roughly.”
“Eric, I was only trying to—”
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I will not stand by and watch,” Eric interrupted, his words a clear, lethal warning. “Do you understand?”
He turned his gaze to me, his expression softening into something I didn't recognize. “My wife...”
My eyes widened. *Wife?* Did he have a fever? This was so far removed from his usual behavior that for a moment, I wondered if he had been replaced by an impostor.
“I’m here to take you home,” he continued. “You’re late, and I was... concerned.”
*Concerned? He’s definitely lost his mind.*
Yet, as he looked at me with those worried eyes, speaking with a gentleness I hadn't heard in years, I felt a treacherous pang in my chest. It was like seeing the boy he used to be—the one I had fallen in love with so long ago.
He extended his hand toward me. “Let’s go.”
The gesture triggered a sudden, sharp sense of déjà vu. It was the same hand he’d offered me when I was a lonely child in this very palace. I hesitated, my mind screaming at me that this was all a lie, a performance.
Eric leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Don't forget where we are. The Imperial Palace has many eyes.”
My heart sank. *Of course. It’s for the audience.* He wanted me to play my part in his carefully curated drama of the "perfect couple." I felt a surge of resentment, but I didn't pull away.
Instead, I looked over at Madeleine. Her green eyes were wide, filled with a look of pure, murderous envy. She looked as if she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands.
*Oh, you’re going to hate this,* I thought.
I placed my hand firmly in Eric’s, a soft, triumphant smile touching my lips. “Let’s go, Darling. I’m tired of being here.”
“Yes,” Eric replied, his voice rich and smooth. He squeezed my hand, and for a moment, I forgot we were acting.
***
We reached the entrance of the palace, and Eric came to a stop. “Wait here for a moment. I’ll bring the carriage around.”
As he walked away, I let out the breath I’d been holding. My mind was a chaotic mess of questions. In my past life, I had been certain that Eric was the one who sent the order to have me and Damian killed. I had seen the Brant seal on the letter. I had heard the rumors of his upcoming marriage to Madeleine.
But seeing him protect me today, seeing the way he looked at me when he thought no one else was watching... a seed of doubt began to sprout.
*Did I misunderstand everything? Was the letter a forgery? Was the marriage just a rumor?*
I had never seen him actually cheat with my own eyes. I had only seen the distance, the coldness, and the way he looked at Madeleine with a softness he never showed me.
*Was ten years of my life's work based on a lie?*
The need to know the truth became an itch I couldn't ignore. I decided to find him, to see what he was doing while he was away from the "eyes" of the palace. I knew the layout of the Imperial grounds better than anyone; I knew where he’d have to go to fetch the carriage.
I followed the path, my footsteps silent. I rounded a corner and stopped dead.
Eric was standing near the carriage house. And he wasn't alone. Madeleine was there, her silver hair shimmering in the twilight. She was smiling now, a look of desperate hope on her face.
“Eric, you came back for me, didn't you?” she asked.
I held my breath, waiting for him to shut her down. After the performance in the garden, I expected him to be cold, to tell her to go home.
Instead, Eric nodded. “Yes. I have something to tell you.”
Madeleine’s expression shifted, a pout touching her lips. “What is it? You were so mean to me back there! You were angry with me because of *her*!”
Eric let out a short, dry laugh. “Angry? You have a profound misunderstanding, Madeleine.”
My heart began to hammer against my ribs. *Misunderstanding?*
“You warned me not to touch your pregnant wife,” Madeleine pressed, her voice a mocking whine. “And now you’re saying it was a misunderstanding? How am I supposed to believe that?”
I stood frozen, waiting for his denial. I wanted him to tell her that he cared for me, that the child changed everything.
“I don’t consider her my wife,” Eric said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “The performance in the garden... it was for the eyes of the palace. Nothing more.”
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. I turned away, the truth finally sinking in.
*Of course. I was a fool to expect anything else.*
I had spent my reset convinced I had been betrayed, nursing a deep, burning resentment. But as the days passed and Eric acted "kindly," I had allowed myself to hope. I had wanted to believe that the ten years I spent trying to make this marriage work hadn't been a complete waste. I wanted to believe he recognized me as family, even if he didn't love me.
I had given meaning to his trivial actions, building a fantasy of reconciliation out of scraps of feigned concern.
But the man I was trying to defend was telling another woman that I meant nothing to him.
*I was right the first time,* I thought, my steps heavy as I walked back toward the main entrance. *He never wanted me. He never wanted this marriage.*
It didn't matter if he tried to kill me or not. It didn't matter if he loved Madeleine or not. The fundamental truth was that I could never be his wife. This marriage was a cage built by the Emperor’s greed and maintained by Eric’s sense of duty. My efforts to change his mind were a fool’s errand from the start.
I reached the knights waiting by the gates.
“Is everything alright, my lady?” one of them asked. “Where is the Duke?”
“He’s... busy,” I said, my voice dry. “Let’s return to the estate. Now.”