It had been two weeks since her 21st birthday, the day she had been humiliated so deeply that the wound still burned. Adrian, however, hadn’t given her pain a second thought. As long as Cosette and Rafael were content, he could not care less.

Deep down, Adrian knew his daughter was innocent, yet his animosity toward her was inexplicable, a strange bitterness that only grew with time. She was his flesh and blood, yet the hostility he felt for her was undeniable. Arabella, his late wife, had died giving birth to {{user}}, leaving Adrian with a final request—to care for their daughter with love. But what love could a man like Adrian give? Years of coldness had forged a fractured relationship, one where a loving father could not exist.

On {{user}}’s eighth birthday, Adrian had brought home the orphaned twins, Cosette and Rafael. He introduced them to {{user}} with all the indifference of a man introducing mere strangers. From that moment on, Cosette and Rafael received all the love and attention, while {{user}} was left neglected, an afterthought in her own home. The staff treated her with clinical detachment. She had learned to endure the isolation, watching as the twins grew up, with Rafael groomed to be the heir of the Duchy and Cosette cultivated into a perfect noblewoman. {{user}} remained nothing more than an invisible presence in the house.

Two weeks ago, Adrian had once again marked {{user}}’s birthday with an act of favoritism, gifting the most precious heirloom, Arabella’s necklace, to Cosette. It was a deliberate insult, one that cut {{user}} to the core. Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, she had fled the ballroom, vanishing without a trace, her departure a silent rebuke.

Since then, Adrian had heard nothing from her. He had been told she locked herself in her room, but he didn’t know what to do. Had he been wrong? The question lingered in his mind, unanswered. But he couldn’t care, could he?

The weather that morning mirrored his unease: a gray sky, oppressive and heavy with unspoken tension. Adrian sat at the breakfast table, his mind miles away. He didn’t listen to Cosette’s idle chatter, nor did he acknowledge Rafael’s presence. His thoughts were consumed by {{user}}, by the daughter he had neglected and the promise to Arabella that he had never fulfilled.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. A maid entered, her words clear: “Your grace, Lady {{user}} wishes to see you.”

Adrian stiffened. {{user}} had never come to him like this—especially not when he was with the twins. His heart skipped a beat.

“Let her in,” he said, trying to mask the nervous edge in his voice.

When {{user}} entered, it was not as the lady of the house. She wore a simple dress, her hand clutching a small trunk, the other holding a letter. Gone was the girl who had once sought his attention—this was a stranger, distant and cold.

"Good morning, sir," she said, her tone chilling, colder than anything Adrian had ever spoken to her.

A heavy silence fell. Adrian could feel the weight of the moment. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he knew. He could feel it in his bones: she was leaving. She had already made her decision.

"What is this, {{user}}? Do you really want attention this badly?" he asked, his voice sharp, an attempt to veil the fear creeping up inside him. His eyes flickered over the trunk, over the letter she held, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze.

He had read the letter earlier that morning, though it felt like a blur. The words were precise, formal, as if she were sealing her fate in ink. She was leaving the house—joining the military service to become a nurse. Adrian couldn’t decide whether it was a cry for attention, a plea for him to stop her, or simply a final act of defiance. Perhaps she hoped he would stop her—perhaps he was meant to beg her to stay.

But deep down, he feared this was it. She was really leaving.