After that night at Cassian's mansion, something inside Seraphine hardened. The softness in her touch evaporated. The tremble in her voice steadied. The tears dried, leaving behind a quiet, deadly clarity.
"If he will not choose me," she whispered to her own reflection, "then I will make his choice bleed."
Not through blades. Not through public scenes. Not through hysterics.
No. Seraphine Arden would destroy Marienne Lysford the way a storm destroys a ship. Slowly. Ruthlessly. From the inside out.
And to do that, she needed eyes and ears in the one place Marienne hoped to reign victorious.
Cassian's manor.
She had tended those gardens. Walked those halls. Fed kindness into the hearts of the workers.
And the workers remembered. Every gardener, every maid, every stable boy, every guard who had once seen Seraphine quietly tend to flowers and offer gentle smiles—
They remembered who had made their General almost human.
So when she returned to their back gates, hooded, trembling but determined… They didn't shut her out.
A maid approached her first. Young, timid, hands stained with ink from copying Cassian's reports.
"My lady," she whispered, glancing around, "is it true? About the engagement?"
Seraphine's eyes shimmered, but her voice stayed steady. "Yes."
A ripple of pity passed between them. The girl squeezed Seraphine's hand.
"We'll help you."
Another voice — a stable worker. "We never liked that Lysford woman. Too loud. Too proud. A snake in silk."
Then another — the head maid. "My lady, Cassian was only gentle when you were here. Tell us what you need."
Seraphine exhaled slowly. Her heart was cracked, bleeding. But her mind was sharp as a knife.
"I need information," she murmured. "Everything she does. Everything she says. Every moment she spends in his house."
A beat of silence. Then—
"We will report every detail."
She nodded once.
The web began to weave itself.
---
The rain had stopped before Marienne arrived at the Vale Estate once again. Her carriage rolled to a halt in the courtyard, wheels splashing through puddles that reflected the pale morning light. She smoothed down her emerald gown, adjusted her pearl earrings, and lifted her chin.
She told herself she was coming simply to check on Cassian. To see the progress of their engagement plans. To ensure everything remained under her control.
But beneath the polished confidence, her heart beat unevenly. Something was wrong.
The last time she visited… She had felt it. The tension..The coldness. The air thick with unspoken storms.
And Lysander Arden had been there.
The memory still sent a ripple of discomfort through her.
Marienne had arrived just in time to see the tail end of the commotion. The guards unsettled, the tension thick, the unmistakable scent of violence in the air.
Cassian's office door had been shut.Voices inside— one strained, one furious. Then a crash.
By the time the door opened and Marienne rushed in, Lysander Arden was already leaving, breath ragged, hands bloodied.
He hadn't even looked at her. He simply brushed past her as though she were a piece of furniture.
And inside, Cassian stood alone. Bruised. Silent. Cold as death.
Marienne swallowed hard at the memory as she stepped out of her carriage.
She had wanted desperately. To touch him, to help him, to offer comfort or a cloth or a salve or something. Anything that can comfort her fiancé.
But when she reached for his jaw, he slapped her hand away. Hard. The sting of that rejection still burned.
Marienne walked through the open doors of the mansion now, footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
The servants watched her quietly. Too quietly.
Her spine stiffened.
She hated it. The way they looked at her. The way they didn't lower their eyes in respect... but in pity.
She hated pity.
She forced a smile when she reached the main hall. But no one smiled back. Her jaw tightened.
She made her way toward Cassian's office again, remembering the last bitter words he had thrown at her.
"If not for your ambition… none of this would be happening."
She had frozen. Yes, she did it because of ambition. Not just the ambition of her family but her's as well. The ambition to became his. The ambition to be love by him. The ambition to have his surname. The ambition to be by his side. The ambition to became.... her.
He had not taken it back.
Marienne shook the memory from her mind and pressed a hand to the office door. She needed to see him. She needed to make him see her.
She needed—
The hinges creaked softly. She stepped inside. And Cassian wasn't there. The room was empty. But not quiet.
There were footprints on the carpet. Drops of water on the floor. A half-open window letting in a cold draft.
Everything felt… unsettled.
Marienne tightened her grip on the doorframe.
She told herself she wasn't nervous. Of course she wasn't. She was the bride-to-be. The chosen woman. The victor.
And yet... Something trembled under her skin. Something she couldn't name. Something foreign. Something like fear.
She inhaled sharply, forcing composure as she stepped deeper into the office.