Chapter 69: Unjustified
—ARIA—
"And the worst part?" Cynthia whispered weakly while tears continued sliding down her face. "Even Sebastian, who was supposed to be mine, is now even more enamored by you! You have bewitched them!"
Her breathing trembled unevenly afterward, almost like she had been holding those words inside herself for far too long.
"You already rejected him," she continued shakily. "So why does he still chase after you?"
I stared at her blankly for several long seconds.
Then I slowly blinked once.
Be...what now?
Please, dear goddesses above, let keep my temper under control because one more accusation and I might genuinely slap the audacity directly out of this woman’s body.
My cheek still burned painfully from the slap she had given earlier. The sting had dulled slightly, but not enough for to forget it. I inhaled deeply and forced the most polite smile I could manage despite the irritation steadily climbing higher inside my chest.
"Are you saying," I asked carefully, "that I sohow stole your spotlight, dear sister?"
Cynthia’s expression twisted almost imdiately.
"You truly do not understand at all," she snapped.
"No," I answered honestly. "At this point, I genuinely do not. What are you thinking?"
Because truly, what exactly was she blaming for anymore?
I had already broken off my engagent with Sebastian Blackwood.
Repeatedly.
I practically handed that man back to society with a ribbon attached.
Cynthia laughed bitterly while wiping at her tears harshly.
"What else should I think?" she demanded. "You spent your ti clinging to Lord Sebastian like a woman who had nothing else left in the world, throwing yourself at him so openly that even servants could whisper about it. And now you stand here pretending you are over him?"
My expression slowly hardened.
Cynthia either did not notice or simply did not care.
Her voice sharpened further as she stepped closer, eyes bright with resentnt.
"You act so refined now, so untouchable," she continued. "But I saw you in that ballroom, Aria. I saw how you walked in like you owned the entire room, wearing that dress as if you were already certain everyone would fall at your feet."
Her lips curled faintly.
"It is almost impressive, really. How shaless you are about it."
My fingers tightened slightly.
Cynthia’s gaze dropped briefly to my dress before lifting again, her tone turning sharper, more cutting with every word.
"Do you think no one understands what you are doing?" she asked coldly. "That dress, that smile, the way you speak. You are not innocent. You are deliberately putting yourself on display so n will look at you. You are not different from the won father despises in court. You are simply better at pretending."
"In fact," she added, voice lowering into sothing almost venomous, "you are worse. At least those won are honest about what they want. You act as though you are above it, as though you are so noble figure above jealousy or desire, but all I see is soone desperate to be chosen by anyone at all."
Cynthia’s eyes burned as she continued.
"And do not pretend Sebastian is irrelevant now," she said sharply. "You rejected him, yes, but he still looks at you like a fool. And you enjoy it. You enjoy watching him follow you around like that. You enjoy knowing you still have power over him even after discarding him."
My breath grew slower and heavier.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice turning deliberately cruel.
"Tell , Aria. How many more do you need? Sebastian was not enough for you, so now you are collecting attention from every man in that ballroom? The archmage, the knight commander, even servants if they are handso enough?"
My vision narrowed slightly.
Cynthia’s lips curled into a sly smile.
"Or is it simply that you cannot stand the idea of soone else being more important than you for once?" she whispered. "So you take everything. You wear the most eye catching dress, you stand where everyone can see you, and you wait for them to look at you like you are sothing special."
Her voice dropped lower, sharper.
"You are not special, Aria. You are just loud enough that people are forced to notice you."
That sentence landed with a final, grinding weight.
Sothing inside snapped cleanly.
My hand moved before thought could catch up.
The slap echoed through the garden.
Cynthia’s head turned sharply with the impact, her breath catching as silence crashed down between us.
For a mont, neither of us moved.
My fingers trembled faintly at my side.
I had not planned it.
But it was done.
Cynthia slowly turned back toward , one hand rising to her cheek. Shock lingered for a brief second before it twisted into disbelief, then sothing far more wounded and humiliated.
I exhaled slowly.
My voice, when it ca, was controlled, but no longer gentle.
"Watch your words, Cynthia." I breathed.
"In case you have forgotten, the grace period does not change what I am. I am still the legitimate daughter of House Valen."
Cynthia’s eyes flickered, but she did not speak.
"And even if I were to abandon that position tomorrow," I continued evenly, "that fact will not disappear. It is not sothing you or anyone else can erase simply because you are angry."
My gaze did not waver.
"So if I chose to discipline you here, I could do so without hesitation," I said flatly. "And no one in this household would dare call it unjust."
Cynthia’s lips tightened, but her expression was unsteady now.
I stepped half a pace closer, my voice lowering slightly.
"Do not mistake my restraint for weakness," I added. "I have endured far more from you in silence than I should have."
A faint exhale left .
"And I have been kind," I continued. "Far kinder than your words deserved."
Cynthia’s eyes trembled faintly, but her pride still held.
I t her gaze directly.
"But you crossed a line and I will not stand still in the midst of your unjustified insults."
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