Madeleine was in agony.
The man she had loved for years—the man who was supposed to be hers—had just wrapped his arms around that "crow" and treated her with a cold, dismissive indifference that cut deeper than any blade.
To make matters worse, the Empress had turned on her. When Cornelia left, the Empress had practically shrieked at Madeleine, accusing her of having a "loose tongue." Madeleine had desperately denied it, explaining that she only ever spoke to Cornelia to mock her, not to share state secrets. But the Empress, blinded by her panicked love for Franz, had refused to listen.
Being thrown out of the Inner Palace had been a humiliation unlike any other. Madeleine had spent the last hour weeping in the gardens, her mind racing with a singular thought: *What did that woman say to her?*
She didn't know how Cornelia had discovered Franz’s latest disaster, but she was certain of one thing: Cornelia was blaming her for the leak.
*Do you think I’ll just take this?* Madeleine thought, her tears drying into a cold, hard rage. *If Cornelia has the Empress’s ear, I still have the Dowager Duchess. I’ll go to the Brant estate this instant and pay you back in kind!*
She gestured to her servant. “Tell the coachman to bring the carriage. Now!”
“Lady Arguin, leaving so soon?”
The voice was familiar, and for a moment, Madeleine’s anger flared at the illogical question. But the moment she saw the speaker, her features softened, and a reflexive smile touched her lips.
“Eric! You... you came for me?”
Eric nodded, his face a mask of calm. “Yes. I have something to tell you.”
A wave of relief washed over her, the misery of the last hour beginning to fade. *I knew it. I’m the one you truly care for.*
She began to complain about his behavior in the garden, and the response she received was exactly what she’d been hoping for.
“I don’t consider her my wife, Madeleine. That performance was for the eyes of the palace. Nothing more.”
Madeleine wanted to burst into laughter. The confirmation was so sweet it nearly made her dizzy. *I knew it. He’s only acting for the sake of the Brant reputation.*
She decided to play the martyr one last time, wanting to ensure he felt the full weight of her "hurt." “Then why were you so angry with me? Do you have any idea how much you upset me?”
Eric slowly lowered his head, his face inches from hers. Madeleine instinctively closed her eyes, her heart racing as she waited for the kiss she’d been dreaming of for years.
Then, his voice reached her—low, cold, and utterly devoid of affection.
“It’s because you’ve become an intruder, Madeleine von Arguin.”
Madeleine’s eyes snapped open. Eric had already pulled back, staring at her with a gaze so indifferent it was as if he were looking at a piece of furniture.
“What... what are you saying?”
“You enter my home without invitation. You burst into my office whenever it suits you. You interfere in my work and assume a position you have no right to hold. I’m tired of it.”
“That’s not true! I only visit to discuss the jade contract! My father is doing you a favor, and I’m the one facilitating it!”
Eric’s eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp clarity. “Then consider the favor returned. I will not be signing that contract.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. “You... you’re refusing the contract? But it’s a windfall for House Brant! You’d be gaining a fortune!”
“Yes, I would. But the price of that fortune is having to tolerate your presence, Madeleine. And quite frankly, the gold isn't worth the annoyance.”
He looked at her with a look of pure, unadulterated boredom.
“This is the last warning,” Eric said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. “Do not cross the boundaries I’ve set. Do not come to my house again. If you do, I will ensure the Marquis pays for your lack of discretion.”
Madeleine’s legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the stone bench, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She watched as Eric turned his back on her, walking away without a second glance.
“Eric! How could you do this to me!” she shrieked.
He stopped in his tracks, and for a moment, Madeleine felt a flicker of hope. *He’s going to apologize. He has to. No sane man would walk away from a deal like that.*
But Eric didn't turn around. “The contract is dead, Madeleine. Do not show your face at the Brant estate again.”
He walked away, his steps steady and purposeful.
***
Eric felt a grim sense of satisfaction as he left Madeleine behind.
*That should draw her fire away from Cornelia,* he thought. *She’ll be too busy mourning the contract and nursing her own bruised ego to bother my wife for a while.*
His only concern was that Madeleine now knew of Cornelia’s pregnancy. He had managed to silence her for the moment, but he wasn't sure how long her fear would outweigh her spite. He knew his mother, the Dowager, was in constant contact with Madeleine; if the Dowager found out about the heir from anyone other than him, there would be a storm.
A pang of guilt twisted his gut as he remembered his "performance" in the garden. He knew Cornelia had likely overheard him telling Madeleine that he didn't consider her his wife.
*She’ll hate me for it,* he thought. *But it was the only way to make Madeleine believe I wasn't protecting Cornelia out of affection. If Madeleine thinks I care, she’ll double her efforts to hurt her.*
He turned a corner, heading back toward where he’d left the carriage, but his path was suddenly blocked. He stopped, his face hardening as he looked at the man standing before him.
Platinum hair. Purple eyes. A look of arrogant, bored curiosity.
*Franz.*
Eric felt a surge of impatience. If Franz and Cornelia crossed paths while Cornelia was in this state, it would be a disaster. He stepped around the prince without a word, his pace quickening.
***
“I said we’re leaving,” I repeated, my voice cold.
The Brant knights and the coachman were staring at me with puzzled, hesitant eyes. Sir Chester, the leader of the escort, was the first to speak.
“I assumed you would be returning with the Duke, my lady. Why are you here alone?”
I climbed into the carriage, ignoring the question. My heart was still a heavy, leaden weight in my chest after overhearing Eric’s words. I didn't want to talk, and I certainly didn't want to explain myself.
“You said the Master was coming to the palace,” Chester persisted. “If he’s here, shouldn't we wait for him?”
“Can you not see that I am alone?” I snapped. “I have no intention of waiting for him. Drive.”
Chester’s expression soured. He was a man who took orders from the Duke, not the "obsessive" Duchess he’d been forced to guard for five years. He gritted his teeth, his hand staying on the carriage door.
“Forgive me, my lady, but if the Master is on the grounds, my duty is to him. We cannot leave without his command.”
I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. *Of course. I’m just a guest in this carriage too, apparently.*
I stood up and stepped back out of the carriage. “I see. Since you are unable to fulfill my requests, I will take care of myself.”
“What? My lady, what are you doing?”
“You’ve made it clear that your loyalty lies solely with the Duke. Since he isn't here, and you refuse to move, I will simply find another way home. I’ll ask my father for an imperial carriage.”
Chester looked panicked. If I returned to the Duke’s house in an imperial carriage after being "abandoned" by my own escort, Eric would have his head.
“My lady, please! Get back in the carriage. I... I made a mistake. We will leave immediately.”
I looked at him, my expression devoid of any warmth. I had no intention of riding with them anymore. The sight of the Brant crest was making me nauseous.
“No need,” I said, turning away. “Go back with your master when he eventually finds his way here.”
I began to walk back toward the Inner Palace, my head held high despite the exhaustion beginning to set in. But before I could reach the gates, a shadow fell over me.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
I stopped, my blood turning to ice as I recognized the voice.
“Is that you, little Crow?”
Prince Franz stood before me, a cruel, mocking smirk on his face.