Veronica, the wife to Viscount Aldric for twenty-three years, stared at the letter in her trembling hands.
The parchment was expensive, the kind her husband used for official correspondence.
The handwriting was unmistakably his, she'd seen it on thousands of documents over the decades.
Every loop and flourish was familiar, burned into her memory through years of managing household affairs alongside him.
But the words... the words destroyed everything she thought she knew.
'My dearest Vivienne,'
'Our afternoon together was exquisite. Your skin still haunts my thoughts, and I find myself counting the hours until I can hold you again. The necklace I commissioned should arrive by week's end'
'My wife suspects nothing, as always. She's too consumed with social appearances to notice where I actually spend my evenings. Sometimes I wonder if she'd even care if she knew.'
'Until tomorrow, my love.'
'—A'
Veronica's hands shook harder. She'd found the letter that morning few weeks back, tucked carelessly into one of Aldric's desk drawers while searching for the household expense reports. At first, she'd thought it must be a mistake, perhaps an old letter from before their marriage.
But the date at the top was from two weeks ago.
Two weeks!.
While she'd been planning their anniversary celebration, twenty-three years of marriage, her husband had been writing love letters to another woman.
A knock at her chamber door made her jump. She quickly folded the letter and tucked it into her bodice.
"Enter," she called, forcing her voice to remain steady.
A maid stepped inside, curtsying. "My lady, the investigator you hired has arrived. He's waiting in the private sitting room."
"Thank you. Tell him I'll be down momentarily."
After the maid left, Veronica moved to her mirror. The woman staring back looked haggard, with dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights. When had she become so... tired? So old?
She was forty-two, still considered beautiful by noble standards, but age had begun its inevitable work. Fine lines creased her eyes and mouth. Her auburn hair, once vibrant, now required dye to hide the encroaching gray.
'Was that why? Was she simply not enough anymore?'
Veronica descended the stairs with practiced grace, refusing to let the servants see her distress.
A noblewoman maintained composure at all times, her mother had drilled that lesson into her from childhood.
The private sitting room was small and discrete, used for confidential meetings. Inside, a distinguished gentleman stood examining a painting on the wall.
He turned as she entered, and Veronica was struck by his professional appearance, silver-white hair, impeccable clothing, and an aura of calm competence.
"Lady Veronica," he said, bowing. "I am Alfred. You requested my services?"
"Yes." She gestured for him to sit, then took the chair across from him. "I need you to investigate my husband. Discreetly."
Alfred produced a small notebook and pen. "What specifically are you concerned about, my lady?"
Veronica hesitated, Speaking the words aloud would make it real, undeniable. But she'd already made her decision when she hired him.
"I believe he's having an affair."
Alfred's expression didn't change, professional neutrality, no judgment. "What leads you to this conclusion?"
She withdrew the letter from her bodice and handed it to him. "I found this in his desk this morning."
Alfred read it carefully, his eyes scanning each line. "I see. And you're certain this is his handwriting?"
"Absolutely. I'd recognize it anywhere."
"The woman's name is Vivienne, does that mean anything to you?"
"No. I've never heard my husband mention anyone by that name." Veronica's voice cracked slightly. "I need to know the truth, Mr. Alfred. If he's betraying me, I need proof. Real, undeniable proof."
Alfred nodded slowly. "I understand, my lady. These situations are... delicate. But if your husband is conducting an affair, I will find evidence of it. I have connections throughout the city, informants, contacts in various establishments in the town. If he's meeting this woman, I'll discover where and when."
"How long will it take?"
"That depends on how careful he's being. But typically, unfaithful spouses develop patterns. I should have preliminary findings within three to five days."
Veronica felt her heart sink. Part of her had hoped Alfred would say it was impossible, that the letter must be forged, that her husband would never betray her. But his matter-of-fact response made it all too real.
"What do you need from me?" she asked quietly.
"Your husband's schedule, his regular haunts, any recent changes in his behavior. Also, I'll need discretion from you. If he suspects he's being investigated, he may alter his patterns or destroy evidence."
"He won't hear it from me." Veronica's voice hardened. "If Aldric is betraying our marriage, I want every detail documented. I want to know who she is, how long it's been happening, and exactly what he's said and done."
Alfred made notes. "I'll begin immediately. How should I contact you with updates?"
"Send messages through my personal maid, Helena. No one else can know about this, especially not my children."
"Of course, my lady. One more question, if I do find evidence of infidelity, what do you intend to do with the information?"
Veronica looked out the window toward the city beyond the mansion walls. "I don't know yet. But I'll decide when I have proof."
After Alfred left, Veronica remained in the sitting room, feeling simultaneously numb and devastated. Twenty-three years of marriage with two children, though Sofia was really Aldric's from a previous relationship, Veronica had raised her as her own. A lifetime of standing beside him through political challenges and social obligations.
Had any of it been real? Or had she been a fool this entire time?
---
Three days later, Helena delivered the first report.
Veronica dismissed the maid and opened the envelope with shaking hands. Inside were several documents and photographs.
The first photograph showed Aldric standing outside an upscale inn in the middle district, speaking with a beautiful woman perhaps ten years younger than Veronica. Dark hair, elegant dress, confident posture.
The second showed them entering a room together.
The third... Veronica couldn't look at the third for more than a second.
The accompanying report was thorough and damning:
'Subject observed meeting with a woman identified as "Vivienne Thorne" claimed to be a merchant's daughter, though records show no family by that name in the merchant registry. Meetings occur twice weekly at the Golden Rose Inn. Subject pays for room in advance, stays approximately two hours. Inn staff confirm this pattern has continued for at least six weeks.'
'Witness statements attached from inn workers, nearby shop owners, and carriage drivers who have observed the couple together. Several commented that they appeared quite affectionate.'
Six weeks, not years or months, this was relatively new. But that almost made it worse. This wasn't some long-term affair that predated their marriage, this was a recent, deliberate choice to betray her.
More documents followed in subsequent days, Alfred was nothing if not thorough.
Receipts for jewelry, none of which Veronica had received. Statements from a dressmaker about expensive gowns commissioned for "a special lady." More photographs, each one twisting the knife deeper.
On the fifth day, Veronica confronted Aldric in his study.
She threw the photographs across his desk, watching them scatter like accusations. "Who is she?"
Aldric's face drained of color as he recognized the images. "Veronica, I can explain…"
"Explain what? That you've been sleeping with another woman for six weeks? That you've been spending our money on her gifts while I plan our anniversary celebration?"
"These are fake!" Aldric stood, his voice rising in desperation. "Someone is framing me…can't you see that?"
"Your handwriting says otherwise." She threw the letter at him. "Or are you going to claim that's forged too?"
Aldric picked up the letter, his hands shaking as he read it. "I... I never wrote this. Veronica, I swear on my honor…"
"Your honor?" She laughed bitterly. "What honor? You've been lying to my face for weeks!"
"I haven't! These photographs, this letter, someone is setting me up. Please, you have to believe me."
But Veronica saw only confirmation in his desperate protests. Guilty men always claimed innocence, always insisted they were being framed. She'd watched enough political scandals unfold to recognize the pattern.
"Who is Vivienne Thorne?" she demanded.
"I don't know! I've never heard that name in my life!"
"You're still lying!" Veronica's composure finally shattered. Tears streamed down her face, and she hated herself for showing weakness. "Twenty-three years, Aldric. I gave you twenty-three years of loyalty and devotion, and this is how you repay me?"
"I'm not lying! Someone is doing this to us, trying to divide us…"
"The only person dividing us is you and your mistress!"
Aldric moved around the desk, reaching for her, but Veronica stepped back sharply. "Don't touch me."
"Veronica, please…"
"I want you out of our bedroom. Tonight, move your things to a guest chamber."
"You're not listening…"
"I've seen enough evidence! Photographs, receipts, witness statements, your own handwriting. What more do I need?" She wiped her tears angrily. "Unless you can produce this mysterious person who's supposedly framing you and explain why they'd go to such elaborate lengths, I don't want to hear another word."
"It's someone who wants to destroy our family," Aldric insisted, his voice cracking. "Can't you see? The timing is too perfect. With everything else happening, our son guild problems, the financial irregularities Marcus mentioned…"
"So now you're deflecting to other issues? Classic guilt behavior."
"I'm trying to make you see reason!"
"Reason?" Veronica's voice turned cold. "Reason would have been remaining faithful to your marriage vows. Reason would have been not humiliating me in front of the entire city."
"The city doesn't know…"
"They will, these things always come out. And when they do, I'll be the pitied wife whose husband couldn't keep his vows."
She moved toward the door. "Sleep somewhere else tonight, Aldric. I can't even look at you right now."
"Veronica…."
But she was already gone, the door slamming behind her.
---
Aldric stood alone in his study, staring at the photographs scattered across his desk. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening.
He'd never met Vivienne Thorne. Never commissioned those jewelry pieces, never stayed at the Golden Rose Inn. Every single piece of evidence was fabricated, he was certain of it.
But how could he prove that? The photographs were flawless. The handwriting in the letter was identical to his own even he couldn't spot the forgery. The witnesses all confirmed seeing him with this mysterious woman.
Someone with significant resources and skill was systematically destroying his life, and he had no idea who or why.
His mind went to Marcus's nervous behavior lately, to the financial irregularities, to the strange tension he'd sensed in the household. Were all these things connected?
Aldric moved to his window, looking out over the city. Somewhere out there, an enemy was orchestrating his downfall with precision and patience, but who? And why now?
He thought about his brother, the King. Their relationship had always been complicated, Aldric was the third-born, never meant for real power. Would his brother benefit from his disgrace? It seemed unlikely, but political motivations were often opaque.
Rival noble families? Possible, but this level of coordination suggested something more than simple political maneuvering.
The Blue Phoenix Guild had enemies, certainly, but why target his family rather than just the guild itself?
Nothing made sense.
And worst of all, his own wife, the woman he'd been faithful to for over two decades, didn't believe him.
Aldric sat heavily in his chair, feeling the weight of helplessness settle over him.
Whoever was doing this was winning.