The manor had its own rhythm. Morning bells rang, maids rustled, and boots echoed on polished marble. I moved within it like a shadow stitched into silk—quiet, but never unseen. Every document I filed, every corridor I passed through—each action was part of a larger scheme.
My task was to organize the long-neglected records room, a dusty, forgotten corner of the estate. It wasn't what I truly wanted, but it was a foothold—a reason to linger, a way to ensure the smooth continuation of my life here. For now, that was enough.
Rael remained distant. He lived in his own world, even within these walls. After breakfast, he locked himself in his study and emerged only at noon to sip coffee in the garden. He barely left the manor, entirely devoted to duty.
How painfully dull.
And yet—how convenient.
A predictable man was easier to corner.
My greatest weapon was patience.
Still, patience alone would not carry me further. Working in the archives was safe… but useless. Rael would never seek me there. No—if I wanted more, I had to prove my value to Howard. Again. And again. Until the old man had no choice but to place me somewhere Rael would see me often.
And when that happened—I would be ready.
---
I began noticing things. Details others ignored. Patterns. Cracks.
Like the marriage.
From the maids' whispers, it was worse than I'd imagined. Gweneth was rarely home—always shopping, attending teas, flitting from one banquet to the next. She changed her hairstyle weekly. Rael never noticed. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.
They shared a bed once a month. Like a duty. A hollow ritual to produce an heir.
One afternoon, I arrived outside Rael's study with documents in hand. I was about to knock when Howard raised a hand, gesturing for me to stay silent beside him. The door was closed, but voices drifted through the thick wood.
I listened.
"Rael, we should attend Baron Eldritch's banquet," Gweneth said, her tone carefully light.
"I'm busy," came Rael's flat reply. "I don't have time for a countryside gathering."
"But his wife is a friend of mine. I've already promised we would attend."
"You promised. I didn't. That's not my concern."
"You're my husband," Gweneth's voice sharpened. "You're supposed to go with me."
"We'll attend something worth our time. Not a baron's social hour."
Silence.
Then the door burst open.
Gweneth stormed out, her face flushed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She didn't even glance at me.
I remained still, expression neutral, but inside my thoughts swirled.
So… the wife begged for scraps of attention. And still, he denied her.
I pitied her once—because I saw pieces of myself in that kind of desperation.
But I brushed that feeling away.
Pity wouldn't change anything.
Not anymore. Not in this life.
I was done with that.
I wouldn't make the same mistake I did before. This time, I would live for myself—and for the only family I had left.
At least Rael's neglect wasn't cruel. No bruises. No insults. No infidelity. Not yet.
I smiled faintly, a flicker of mystery in the curve of my lips.
Why chase after someone's love and attention if they won't give it?
Simple. You don't.
Pathetic, really—how often people forget that truth.
In life, you have to be practical.
A little selfish.
That's the only way to get what you want.
---
That night, in the room I shared with my mother, Helena looked at me curiously. I stood before the mirror, smiling, pouting, shifting expressions with quiet intensity.
"Evelise… what are you doing?" she asked at last.
I met her eyes in the mirror, calm and steady. "Nothing, Mother. Just practicing."
"Practicing what?"
"My expressions," I replied. "It's self-study. Facial mapping."
Helena blinked. "Facial mapping? What does that even mean?"
I tilted my head slightly, analyzing the shift in my own gaze. "It's learning how my face moves. Which angles flatter me. What expressions make me look kind, innocent, charming. Which ones make people relax—and which ones keep them watching. If I don't understand how I'm perceived, how can I expect others to react the way I want them to?"
Helena stared at me, uncertain whether to laugh or worry.
My smile softened. This one—yes, it was my most disarming.
Helena sighed. She didn't fully understand, but she let it go. There had been so many changes in me lately—but I seemed brighter, more alive. The shy girl she'd once known had been replaced with someone sharper, more confident.
And if that confidence came with strange new habits… so be it.
---
In the estate's records room—dim, quiet, and forgotten—I discovered things most never would. I combed through dusty files, faded ink, brittle paper. They whispered secrets. I listened.
The House of Mondego was wealthy. Unimaginably so. No wonder Rael walked like he owned the world.
I smirked as I flipped through a decades-old inventory report. Trade routes. Foreign partnerships. Manufacturing data. Agricultural yields. Every detail accounted for, every margin tracked.
The estate didn't need to trade. It thrived on its own.
Quiet power. Subtle dominance.
Mondego territory wasn't vast—not compared to dukedoms—but in raw, sustained wealth?
It surpassed them all.
Vassal families pledged loyalty beneath its banner. Businesses—textiles, mining, smelting, shipping—stretched across the kingdom like a web. And every strand led back here. To this estate. To Rael.
To me, perhaps, if I played this right.
Then I found something else.
Military records, buried in ledgers. Hidden, but not invisible.
Most noble houses relied on the kingdom's army or temporary allies for protection. But Mondego?
It trained its own.
Armed its own.
Funded its own.
There was no dependence on outsiders.
They were not merely an economic force—they were a military one.
I leaned back, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile.
No wonder Rael walked like he owned the world.
He does.
And if I'm careful—if I am patient, clever, and ruthless enough—
That world might one day belong to me, too.
I turned the page.
Yes.
I was right to choose him.