Back at the Crestmont house, Serena was still burning with anger. She couldn't believe it—her sister, Evangeline, had dared to stand up to her.
These days, something about Eva had changed. Instead of shrinking under the weight of the rumors that surrounded her, she'd begun to stand taller. Stronger. Bolder. And that frightened Serena.
Because if Eva kept going like this—if she truly showed her strength—then Serena's place in the family, her carefully built image, would crumble.
It wasn't fair. Eva was supposed to be the quiet one, the second one, the shadow. The idea of switching places with her—of being the one overlooked—was unbearable.
Fuming, Serena stormed out of the house, her steps sharp and quick until she reached Madam Trevor's lane. There, just past the edge of the fields, she spotted Milo, leaning against a tree and staring absently into the distance.
"Milo!" she called, running toward him.
At once, she buried her face against his chest, her shoulders trembling as tears fell freely down her cheeks. Her lashes stuck together with tears, and her wide eyes glimmered like those of a frightened fawn—a sight no man could easily ignore.
"Serena!" Milo's voice cracked with worry. "What's wrong? This isn't right—you shouldn't be hugging me like this—"
"It's about Evangeline," she interrupted softly.
At her sister's name, Milo froze. His hands, which had been about to push her away, instead hung in the air uncertainly. Serena hid a smile against his shirt. So easy, she thought. So easily swayed.
"What about Evangeline?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "You said her name's been ruined, that she's better off keeping her distance from men. I've been trying not to speak to her for that reason, but I thought... maybe I should explain myself. Maybe I could help her."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Serena said softly, lifting her head and showing him the faint red mark on her cheek.
"Eva isn't herself anymore. She's been acting strange. Today she came home wearing a new dress—something no one like us could ever afford. I asked where it came from, out of worry, and she... she slapped me." Her voice broke on cue. "She told me to mind my own business."
Milo's eyes widened. "There's no way. Eva would never—she's not like that. You must have misunderstood her, Serena."
"Don't you know, people change, Milo?" she murmured, shaking her head sadly. "Just like your mother did—many women do, once they see a man's wealth. Whoever gave her that dress... he must be rich, powerful. And I fear," her eyes glistened again, "he's changed her completely."
Milo twitched. Of course, he wouldn't have been convinced so easily—if not for the quiet wound that still lingered in him. His mother had once done the same, hadn't she? Left him behind to chase comfort in the arms of a wealthy Seraph. The thought alone made his chest tighten.
"No, Eva wouldn't do that," he said, pushing Serena away.
But she saw it—the flicker of doubt, faint but real, settling behind his eyes.
Just a crack. That was all she needed.
Serena's tears trembled prettily as she pressed her hand to her cheek. "I know! I want to believe her too, Milo. I've always been on her side, always protected her. But lately... I don't recognize her anymore." Her voice wavered just right—soft, aching, fragile. "I thought maybe I did something wrong, that maybe she resented me for being the one our parents favored."
She sniffled, glancing down as if too ashamed to continue. "I love her so much, but she looks at me now like I'm her enemy. I just... I don't know what to do."
Milo's shoulders tensed, the guilt already creeping in. "Maybe she's just hurting. Maybe we could talk to her. Try to help her before she—"
"Before she sinks deeper?" Serena cut in gently, her eyes glistening as she met his. "Yes, that's exactly what I thought. Maybe she just needs someone she trusts. Someone who isn't me. Someone... like you."
He hesitated. "Me?"
She nodded slowly, letting a small, shaky smile bloom on her lips. "You were always kind to her. She listens to you. If anyone can reach her, it's you, Milo. Maybe if you ask where that dress came from, or who gave it to her, she might tell you the truth. I can't bear to think she's getting herself into trouble with someone dangerous."
Milo frowned, torn between concern and hesitation. "You really think she'd tell me?"
"I think," Serena whispered, brushing away another tear, "she needs you now more than ever. Just... be careful with her. She isn't the same gentle Eva you remember."
Inside, her heart thrummed with quiet satisfaction. How easily men fell for tears. How easily she could turn affection into a blade.
By the time he looked away, she could already see it—the determination forming in his eyes. The thought that he could save Evangeline.
Perfect. Because the moment he tried, he would only hurt her more.
"I'm only afraid that the man is taking advantage of her, I'm sure you understand don't you, Milo?"
Milo thought about it before nodding and when Serena saw that she hid her smile, because everything had moved as perfectly as she had imagined....
Over the dark castle belonging to Hades Valentine, Evangeline stepped through the towering doors—only to halt in astonishment.
Before her stretched a library.
Not just any library, but a vast cathedral of books. Shelves climbed endlessly toward the vaulted ceiling, so high she thought one might fall to their death before touching the floor. Every wall, every corner, was crammed with volumes of every color and age. It was as if every book in Salestas had been gathered and sealed within this one immense chamber.
Her lips parted in disbelief. "I..." she stammered. Had she ever told anyone she loved libraries? "I'm not good at reading, milord."
"Then we will simply have to make you better at it," Hades said, his tone smooth as velvet.
He stepped forward, and she instinctively clutched her chest, thinking he might lean in close. But instead, he brushed past her shoulder, moving toward a nearby shelf. His fingers trailed along the spines until he selected a crimson-covered tome.
"How about studying, Eva?" he asked, setting the book down upon one of the five tables that dotted the chessboard-patterned floor.
"Studying?" she echoed softly. She had mentioned once that she could barely read or write...
"I think, deep down, you enjoy learning," he mused, though it didn't sound like a guess—it sounded like he knew.
He placed the book before her and pulled out a chair, his grin curving with something between mischief and challenge. "Come on, sit. I promise I'm a patient teacher." Then, after a beat, his voice dropped into teasing amusement. "Don't worry—I won't spank you for your mistakes."
Evangeline's face burned. She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of the idea... or secretly curious.