NOTES:

12.03.24 12:38 AM

HELLO everyone! It's me again, hello, hey there. Haha!

I completely forgot to tell you guys in the previous note (don't worry okay? You won't see my notes in unless I have something to say.) If you're reading this at this point, I would like to tell you that I DONT have a set schedule for updating, so I will apologize in advanced if chapters are rather delayed. They will STILL be coming out though, you don't have to worry about that.

Also! Please, if you guys have something to say or react to, feel free to send in a review. I really do enjoy reading your comments. It makes me feel close to you (wow what?) Anyway, I'm pretty sure y'all lovely darlings are so done with my yapping.

PLEASE ENJOY~!

WARNING

This story contains character deaths, sexual themes, graphic violence, swearing, trigger and psychological themes.

Please read at your own discretion

CHAPTER 7

Anna sat in the parlor, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she waited for Jack to speak. She had been caught off guard when Kai, their butler, informed her that the esteemed Duke had requested a private conversation. Five minutes passed in silence, with only the sound of Jack sipping his tea breaking the quiet. Anna found herself growing increasingly curious about why he had come.

"Your Grace—"

"Please, Anna," he interrupted, his voice laced with polite insistence. "I believe we agreed to call each other comfortably, especially when we are discussing matters as personal as these."

"But I'm very ashamed to have taken your valuable time, I know you are a busy man, and yet here you are, helping my sister despite her not having any blood relation to you... I cannot express enough how grateful I am," Anna said.

Jack lowered his cup and shook his head, his eyes warm but resolute. "I have told you before, Anna, that I am helping Lady Elsa because I wish to, not because I am obliged. I enjoy her company, and I care about her well-being. You don't need to thank me."

Anna pressed her lips together, hesitant.

"Please, Anna," he continued, his tone softer. "You must stop calling me with such formality. I feel uncomfortable with it, especially given our long standing friendship. Social rank does not concern me," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You are my friend, and that is all that matters."

Anna gave a small, appreciative smile, her eyes reflecting the relief she felt at his response. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "I appreciate it greatly, Du—Jack."

She leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers tapping nervously against her teacup. Though the conversation had been amicable, there was an undercurrent of tension. She couldn't help but wonder what serious matters had brought him here tonight, especially given how much he had been helping Elsa in recent weeks.

It was strange. To Anna, Jack was someone who was part of the higher elite in society, being one of the most powerful individuals in the Empire. Second only to the Imperial Family, and yet this man says it's okay for a mere woman, who is in a much lower rank than him, to call him by his name. Even more so, calling her his friend.

Although Jack visited their mansion often, Anna would rarely have the opportunity to have a full on conversation with him. This was because he would spend his entire time inside Elsa's room and talk with her there. On one hand, Anna was thankful that Jack was there to help Elsa, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't jealous of how close the two had become in the recent weeks.

Jack set his teacup down with a soft clink, his face growing more serious after a moment of silence between them.

"There are matters I must discuss with you, Anna. Serious matters concerning your sister."

"I'm listening." Anna leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on Jack as he shared the grim details he had uncovered.

"I've just returned from a meeting with the leader of the Information Guild. I was hoping to uncover more about your sister's past, and, unfortunately, what I learned was far from what I expected."

Anna's hands clenched in her lap, though she stayed quiet. She wondered what kind of news Jack would tell her. And frankly, she was afraid. She knew her sister had suffered terribly, but the full extent of it... she wasn't sure if she was ready for that. But she had to be.

For Elsa. For them.

Jack paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "Lady Elsa, as you know, was taken by the Kozmotis' and given to Viscount Westergaard. But what you might not know is that she was specifically kept alive for reasons I still don't fully understand. After the coup, the royal family was murdered... except for your sister. They gave her to Viscount Westergaard as some sort of…twisted prize for helping the Kozmotis take Northuldra."

Anna's breath hitched. She knew that story and had suspected as much, but hearing the words said out loud confirmed something she had feared for so long.

"Viscount Westergaard... he didn't keep her as a royal, though. She was his possession, his trophy," Jack continued, his voice heavy with distaste. "I suspect that there is something going on. There is no way a sovereign taking over another royal kingdom would let a pureblood—especially the heir—alive."

Anna stiffened, her heart sinking. She could barely imagine the horrors her sister had endured.

Jack's eyes softened with sympathy, but he pressed on. "The real question is why they kept your sister alive for so long... Why did they not kill her like the rest? There's more to this, Anna. Something we're missing. I'm still looking into it, but if we get some more information, I'll make sure to tell you."

"Do you think she was... a part of something bigger?" Anna asked softly, her voice strained, as if she didn't want to know the answer.

Jack paused, considering. "I'm not sure. But there's something I'm starting to believe: Lady Elsa might have been more than just pawns in a political game. She might have been kept for reasons we still don't understand."

Anna's mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. Why had her sister been spared, only to be subjected to such horrors? Why Elsa? What had they been planning all along? She needed answers, but for now, she could only wait and hope that with Jack's help, they could piece together the truth.

"This is far from over, Anna," Jack's voice was low but determined. "We'll uncover everything we can, but we need to proceed carefully. Your sister's safety is still at risk."

She nodded silently, feeling the weight of her sister's plight more than ever. "Thank you, Jack. For telling me all of this. I just…I don't know what to think anymore. But I won't stop until she's safe."

Jack gave a slight nod. "That being said, can you tell me what you know about Viscount Westergaard?" He asked cautiously.

Anna's lips tightened into a thin line as her thoughts swirled, churning in her mind like a raging thunderstorm. Her sister's letters, filled with tales of gentle treatment and peaceful days, had once been a source of solace. Now, in light of everything that had surfaced, they felt like cruel lies. Were they truly real? Anna didn't believe it anymore.

"Well," she began, her voice laced with bitterness, "my sister always said in her letters that the Viscount was a good man and that he treated her nicely. She made it sound like she was living in comfort. But, of course..." Her voice faltered, replaced by a bubbling feeling of anger that she couldn't suppress no matter how hard she tried.

The memory surfaced uninvited, sharp and agonizing: her sister's frail body, riddled with bruises and scars, her face gaunt and eyes devoid of light. Anna's hands gripped her lap tightly as if to steady herself. The horror of that day, of finding her sister in such a state, was a memory she could never escape. It will haunt her forever.

"When Kristoff went to the mansion to visit her... he said it was clear she hadn't been treated preciously. Not at all."

She glanced at Jack, her composure slipping as the storm of emotions she had tried to bury rose to the surface. How had she let herself believe those letters? Why hadn't she questioned the glowing words that seemed too perfect, too disconnected from the harsh realities of their world?

Jack's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, low and grave. "Don't you think Lady Elsa's letters were probably fabricated by the Viscount himself?"

Anna froze, her breath hitching. The possibility hit her like a cold wave. Of course, it made sense—the way her sister's handwriting had remained unchanged, the oddly sterile language that sounded so unlike her vibrant personality. It was too perfect, too—polished.

Could it have been Westergaard's doing all along?

Her mind reeled as doubt clawed at her. "You think…he wrote them?" she asked softly, though she already knew the answer. The thought filled her with equal parts of rage and despair.

"It's highly likely. Someone who would subject a woman to such treatment wouldn't hesitate to manipulate her family as well. It was probably meant to keep you at ease, to prevent suspicion."

Anna's chest tightened, her anger now mingling with guilt. Had she been too naive, too trusting? Had she failed her sister by not questioning those letters sooner? But even as self-reproach crept in, a flicker of resolve ignited inside her. "That man," she said, her voice trembling but fierce, "took everything from her. And I was foolish enough to believe his lies. I won't make that mistake again."

Jack's gaze softened, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his eyes. "You couldn't have known. But now that we do, we'll ensure he doesn't escape justice—not even in death. If it is true that he is dead."

Anna's eyes widened. "If?" She asked abruptly, heart thrumming in her chest. What did Jack mean by that?

"His body was never found in the rubble, Anna," Jack said with a frown on his face. Anna's blood ran cold.

"But I heard Kristoff say he was dead…How can that be?"

"There's no trace of his remains in the area…they've searched, but not a single hair or body matched the Viscount."

Anna's heart trembled in fear. What if he was going to come back to get Elsa? What if…he's out there somewhere? Anna doesn't even know what to think anymore.

Jack sat at his mahogany desk, the rays of the sun seeping into the study illuminated the mountains of documents scattered before him. His brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned a report on the state of trade routes in his territory, his pen scratching furiously across the parchment. His recent activities had left him with a backlog of work that demanded immediate attention. It was tiring but very necessary. Distractions weren't welcome in this time of day.

However, three sharp knocks broke his focus. His grip on the pen tightened slightly as he glanced toward the door, already dreading the interruption. "Enter," he called, his voice even but laced with impatience.

Jamie stepped inside, bowing slightly. "Your Grace, Lady Fischer has arrived to see you."

Jack stilled, the words hanging in the air for way longer than they should have. Of course, he thought bitterly. This has my godmother's fingerprints all over it. It was no secret that she was orchestrating opportunities for him and Lady Fischer to "connect." After that uncomfortable conversation they had about his relations with Elsa. He pressed his lips into a thin line, suppressing a groan of frustration.

His schedule was already stretched thin, and now he was expected to entertain his political fiancée—an engagement of convenience arranged for the benefit of the Duchy. Although he was respectful of his godmother's intentions and the political advantages this marriage would bring, he found Lady Fischer's presence draining. She was perfectly composed, well-mannered, and even admired by society. But to Jack, she was little more than an obligation—a pawn in the intricate game of noble alliances.

"Lead her to the parlor," he said curtly, returning his gaze to the documents before him. He made a show of scribbling on the parchment with his pen, as if to emphasize that his work was far more important than the sudden appearance of his fiancée.

Jamie bowed and retreated, leaving Jack alone once more. He exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. The mere thought of the coming interaction soured his mood even more. What could she possibly want this time? Another forced attempt to create familiarity, no doubt. He reminded himself that he owed her respect and civilty; she had done nothing to deserve his contempt. But the circumstances of their engagement—a union dictated by politics rather than affection—made it impossible for him to muster genuine warmth.

Especially not when he has no feelings for the lady at all.

After a moment, he pushed his chair back and stood, his movements deliberate as he straightened his coat. His face was a mask of calm detachment, though inside, a flicker of resentment still burned. Countess Drahl will hear about this later, he thought.

When he entered the parlor, Lady Fischer was already seated, her hands delicately folded on her lap. She rose gracefully upon seeing him, a polite smile adorning her face. Jack offered her a shallow bow, his expression impassive.

"Lady Fischer," he greeted her, his tone was courteous but there was no warmth.

"Your Grace," she replied, her voice poised. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

You are, he thought grimly.

"Not at all. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

As she launched into a carefully rehearsed explanation about her concern for his well-being and the upcoming arrangements for their engagement ceremony, Jack listened with a neutral expression, nodding occasionally—uninterested. Yet his thoughts wandered.

I need to get back to work.

Though his eyes remained trained on Lady Fischer, his mind flickered to a different palce, to another woman with a broken past and haunting eyes. His chest tightened briefly before he forced himself back to the present.

This is my duty, he reminded himself firmly. No matter how cold—contrived—it is my responsibility to see this through.

Jack leaned back in his chair, his fingers loosely clasped as Lady Fischer spoke. Her initial small talk had grown thin—gone with the wind—her carefully measured words now carrying an edge that betrayed her frustration. He noticed it in the tightness of her smile, the way her hands occasionally fidgeted in her lap despite her poised demeanor. Jack knew she was building up to something, and he had a sinking feeling he already knew what it was she was going to say.

"Your Grace," she began, her tone sharper than before, "I didn't come here for pleasantries. There's a matter that both of us must talk about, urgently."

Jack raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue. Here it comes, he thought, bracing himself for the confrontation. He could already guess what "matter" had her running straight to his estate.

Lady Fischer straightened in her seat, her eyes narrowing. "Your frequent visits to the Marquis' estate have become the talk of the capital. You've been seen going there often—far too often. Need I remind you, we are engaged? Such behavior is not only inappropriate but damaging to both our reputations."

Her words landed with a practiced precision, but Jack barely flinched. He met her gaze steadily, his expression unreadable. So this is about appearances, not principles, he mused. Of course, it always when it came to her.

"And what would you have me do about that?"

"Stop going there," she demanded. "You have no business with the people in that household. Your actions are birthing rumors that our engagement is falling apart! Do you have any idea how humiliating that is for me?"

"Lady Fischer, let me be clear. There is no romantic relationship between us and the entire empire knows about that arrangement. It's not exactly a secret that we must protect. This enngagement was never built on romance."

Her eyes widened in disbelief at his bluntness, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Perhaps not," she retorted finally, her voice rising slightly, "but that doesn't mean you can behave however you please! There are rumors swirling that our engagement is going to be called off! People are questioning your commitment. Do you not understand how this reflects on me?"

Commitment? The word echoed bitterly in his mind. To what? A union merely for necessity?

Lady Fischer's tone darkened as she leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "If you don't stop going there, I'll be forced to take matters into my own hands—"

"Tatiana," he said, "If you so much as touch her, I will not let you off lightly." Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously, his expression hardening into stone.

The room seemed to freeze and her face paled slightly.

"You make it sound like I'm about to do something terrible."

The Duke's eyes, however, betrayed no hesitation. If she thinks she can meddle in matters she does not understand, she will learn the consequences.

"I won't do anything to her, so be at ease."

Lies.

"On the condition that you stop seeing her."

Jack frowned. "I can't do that."

"You may be my fiancée in name," he continued coldly, "but do not overstep. I have my reasons for what I do, and they are none of your concern. Focus on fulfilling your role, and leave me to mine."

Silence fell between them, the tension palpable. Lady Fischer's lips pressed into a thin line. Jack's grip on his patience was slipping, each word from her chipping away at the control he tried so hard to maintain. He sat rigid in his chair, his gaze sharp, as she slammed her fist onto the table between them.

"Is she more important than the union between our families?" she yelled, her voice trembling with a mix of fury. The sound of her outburst echoed in the room, but Jack's expression remained icy, but his anger simmered quietly beneath the surface.

She dares to bring this here? To question my priorities?

Lady Fischer pressed on, her voice rising. "If this reaches my father's ears, he will not let it go! Do you understand? He will go after that woman you're so desperate to protect. He will do everything in his power to destroy her!"

Her words lit a fire in Jack's chest, though his face betrayed little of the storm brewing inside him. Does she truly think her father frightens me? That his threats hold any weight here? If anything, this just confirms her complete lack of understanding.

"I am your fiancée, not her!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "You are engaged to me! Me! And yet you act as if I don't exist, as if our engagement means nothing to you!"

"Tatiana," he began, his tone deceptively calm, "you will remember your place. You are my fiancée by arrangement, a title borne of political convenience. There is no personal attachment or feelings between me and you. The engagement will not be called off, so you don't need to concern yourself with rumors or appearances."

His piercing gaze locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, she faltered.

"Instead of sticking your nose into my business," he continued, "I suggest you focus on fulfilling your own role. Worry about yourself and leave matters you don't understand to those capable of handling them."

She opened her mouth to retort, but Jack didn't give her the chance. He turned toward the door, calling for Jamie with a clipped command.

"Escort Lady Fischer to her carriage."

Jamie stepped into the room swiftly, bowing slightly before gesturing for Lady Fischer to follow. She hesitated, her face red with shock, anger, and humiliation, but Jack didn't spare her another glance. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as he stared at the wall, his thoughts racing.

Does she truly believe this engagement binds me to her very whims? That her father's threats will force me to stop? I've put up with her ignorance and arrogance for far too long, but this—this reckless threat against someone she knows nothing about—is unforgivable.

Tatiana sat rigidly in her carriage, her gloved hands clenched tight together in her lap as the Duke's mansion grew smaller and smaller in the distance. The morning had begun with displeasure simmering under her composed exterior, but now it felt like a full-fledged storm raging inside her chest.

She'd heard the whispers—Jack's frequent visits to the Bjorgman Mansion, his apparent fixation with the mysterious woman residing in that house. At first, she dismissed them thinking 'Jack is a man of loyalty and honor. Surely, these rumors are baseless.' She was sure that Jack wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their relationship despite it being an engagement based on merit.

But the whispers grew louder and the tales grew more vivid. His aide, Jamie, who had always carried himself with impeccable manners, seemed to turn a blind eye to his master's indecent actions. That alone was enough to stir her curiosity.

If the rumors were false, why wouldn't Jack deny them outright?

Tatiana thought she was prepared for what was waiting for her when she arrived at the Duke's estate. But the cold indifference he had shown her, the way his expression darkened when she brought up the woman, left her unnerved. It left a bad tase in her mouth and she couldn't quite pinpoint it.

Who is she?

She couldn't recall any noblewoman of note tied to the Bjorgman Mansion. The current Marchioness was well-known, of course, but her social connections never hinted at someone so significant as to draw the Duke's attention.

And yet… Tatiana's jaw tightened as the memory of his reaction replayed in her mind. For years, she had been engaged to Jack, and while theirs was a political arrangement, she believed she understood him. He was always distant, yes, but also courteous and composed. That composure had shattered the moment she mentioned the other woman.

Why her? Tatiana's chest ached with a confusing mix of anger and something else she refused to name. Was it jealousy? Perhaps. It was infuriating to think that Jack—her Jack—could be so fiercely protective of someone else. He had never shown her such passion, never looked at her with anything but polite regard—as nothing more than just a business partner.

A bitter thought crept in. Did he ever truly see me as his fiancée, or was I just a pawn in a game he's already tired of playing?

But no, she couldn't allow herself to fall in doubt. Tatiana straightened her back, the glint of determination returning to her eyes. She can't be discouraged.

Jack was hers, by right and by title. Their engagement was not something that could be easily discarded. If this mysterious woman thought she could come between them, she was gravely mistaken—gravely.

She doesn't even belong in our world, Tatiana thought venomously. A recluse without a debut, no connections, no standing. What could she possibly offer him?

Tatiana's lips pressed into a thin line as the carriage jostled down the cobblestone road towards her home. She wouldn't let this stand. If she had to confront the woman herself, she would. If her father had to intervene, then so be it. Tatiana knew her position, and she would wield it like a sword.

The Duke will remember where his loyalties lie, she vowed silently. And I will ensure that no one—least of all some obscure nobody—dares to threaten what is rightfully mine.