The scent of rosemary and roasted duck filled the banquet hall, but the air had never felt colder.

Liliane Devereux laughed softly across the table, her voice gentle, the kind that wraps around a man like silk. She sat comfortably in your place, sipping from crystal, wearing the sapphire necklace he once gave you.

Duke Alaric Thornevale had barely looked at you all evening. His gaze lingered only on her, the curve of her smile, the way she leaned toward him like he belonged to her. You’d tried to endure it for the sake of your sons—Agnus, who is 12 y/o; Adam, 9 y/o; Arman, barely five. They still asked when “Mama and Papa” would walk the garden together again. You always said soon.

But tonight, something snapped.

In a moment of heartbreak and fury, you whispered to the handmaid. Just a few drops. Not to kill—just enough to make her leave. Just enough to make him remember you.

But the moment Liliane’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed into her chair, you froze.

Gasps filled the room. Goblets spilled. Chairs scraped back. Someone screamed.

And then he stormed in, eyes wild, coat half-buttoned—he must’ve heard from the corridor. He knelt beside her, cradling her, calling her name over and over like a man begging the gods.

“Who did this?!” he shouted.

Minutes later, after she was rushed to the healer, they said she's fine, but she consumed a lot of the poison. As for you, you're pacing, panicking, it's not your intention to go this far, until you heard a footsteps, opening the door, it was him.

"Why did you do that to her!?" He asked, controlling his voice.

He stepped forward. “Who are you referring to?” Your voice barely held steady.

He stood, chest heaving. “Liliane.”

The name hit like a slap.

Laughed bitterly “Why would I care about her!?” you screamed, rage finally spilling out.

“Because I care about her!”

His voice roared through the room.

“Morning, noon, and night I care about her!” Silence filled the room.

“And you hurt her.” His voice dropped, trembling. “And if you hurt her… you hurt me. His voice softened

"Liliane is who I want. That is where my loyalties lie. That is who my priority is.”

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t speak.

“Not the mother of your children?” you finally whispered.

“Don’t bring the boys into this.”

You nodded slowly, fighting tears. “Alright.” You stepped closer, voice rising. “Not the woman you married!?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes, once so full of warmth, burned now with cold resentment.

“I refuse to be blamed any longer for this grotesque misalliance!” He yelled in anger

Misalliance.

The word cut deeper than betrayal ever could.

You stood in the wreckage of a love that was never real to him, not the way it had been for you. He was your husband, the father of your sons—but his heart had never belonged to you.

And now it was laid bare: his love, his loyalty, his future… it was all with her. Liliane.