"Technically, it is our house," she corrected him calmly, "But since you made it very clear you had no interest in its managent, I’ve taken the liberty of operating things. As you can see, the staff is no longer stealing, the vents are cleaned, and the accounts are... balanced."
She looked at him again, her eyes tracking the dirt on his cloak as if he were a muddy dog that had wandered onto a clean rug.
"I’ll have a room prepared for you in the East Wing," she said, returning her attention to a map of Oakhaven, "Since I’m using the master suite for the my work, you’ll likely find the guest quarters more peaceful. Marta will bring you so tea once you’ve had a chance to bathe. You look... exhausted."
[Notification: Target ’Ace’ is 40% Confused, 20% Insulted, 5% Impressed.]
[Reward: 150 Heart-Wrecker Points awarded!]
Ace stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly open, feeling a hot prickle of indignation.
He had returned as the conquering hero, the Iron Duke, ready to ’save his failing wife’. Instead, he had been dismissed like a traveling rchant who had arrived during dinner and soiled the master’s eyes.
"A room?" he sohow managed to choke out, "You’re giving a room?"
Evelina didn’t look up again. She was already circling a point on the map. "If you prefer the barracks, I can arrange that as well. Just let the butler know. Now, if you’ll excuse , I have things to prepare for."
Ace slamd the door shut, but this ti, he was the one on the outside. He stood in the hallway, realizing with a jolt of pure shock that the script he was familiar with since a long ti, had not been altered but rather it was just thrown in fire.
The dining hall of the Alvarez estate was a cavernous room designed to tower over others, intimidating them.
High and vaulted ceilings trapped the morning light in pockets of shadow, and the long obsidian-oak table stretched between the two spouses like a dark river.
Ace sat at the head of the table, his posture as rigid as if he were presiding over a court-martial.
He was fully dressed in his black military tunic, the silver buttons straining slightly against the breadth of his chest.
He didn’t eat. Instead, he sat there, radiating an oppressive ’warrior’s aura’; a deliberate projection of power that usually made his subordinates sweat and his enemies falter.
He was waiting.
In the three weeks he had been gone, his mind had constructed a dozen versions of this breakfast. In every one of them, Evelina was the aggressor.
She would hover over his shoulder, she would ask a thousand chirping questions about the border, or she would tearfully apologize for the ’misunderstandings’ between them.
He had prepared a series of short and clipped rebukes to keep her in her place.
Across from him, Evelina sat with a grace that felt entirely too natural.
She was draped in a morning gown of pale grey silk; it was simple, elegant, and far more expensive-looking than anything he had bought her.
He paused, realizing that he had not really bought her anything.
Evelina wasn’t looking at him. She was focused entirely on a plate of smoked trout and poached eggs, cutting her food smoothly and the sight of it was almost hypnotic.
The only sound in the room was the rhythmic ’clink’ of her silver fork against the porcelain and the soft rustle of the morning newspaper; the Aurelia Gazette, propped up against a crystal water carafe.
The silence stretched from one minute into five. Then ten.
Ace’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until the porcelain groaned. The warrior’s aura, which usually commanded the room, seed to bounce off Evelina like waves hitting a cliff.
She didn’t look oppressed. She looked... bored.
The lack of acknowledgnt was starting to feel like a physical itch under Ace’s skin.
He was the Duke of the North. He had just returned from a campaign. People were supposed to ask things. They were supposed to care.
He cleared his throat, the sound echoing sharply in the quiet hall. Evelina didn’t even flinch; she simply turned a page of her newspaper.
"The campaign in the foothills was successful," Ace said, his voice booming slightly too loud in the empty space, "The border is secure for the season."
Evelina took a slow sip of her tea, "Mmm. Good to hear. The trade routes will remain open, then. That’s beneficial for the grain prices."
Ace blinked. He hadn’t expected a comnt on trade routes. He had expected her to gasp at the danger he’d been in.
He decided to switch to a more reliable weapon; the one thing that had always sent the ’Old Evelina’ into a spiral of insecurity: another woman.
"I spent so ti at the Western Command," Ace continued, leaning back and trying to look nonchalant, "Lady Isabella was there. She was leading the vanguard."
He paused, watching her closely. Lady Isabella was a legendary figure, a beautiful and fierce General with hair like spun fire and a reputation for being the only woman Ace truly respected.
In the past, the re ntion of Isabella’s na was enough to make Evelina’s eyes well with tears and her voice shake with jealousy.
He had never ntioned her himself but even if it was ntioned elsewhere, Evelina would co running and crying her grievances to him.
Then, this ti...
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