Chapter 16: Shattered Facades
The hall was silent except for the ticking of the old clock mounted above the doorframe, its metronomic rhythm slicing through the tension thickening the air. Outside, the storm had rolled in quickly — its rain pelted the glass in erratic pulses, like a warning no one could read. Evelyn stood alone in her study, the light of her tablet casting a soft glow against her cheek as she scrolled through reports, barely registering the words. Every document blurred. Every word failed to settle. Her mind wasn't on the politics of Liore tonight. It hadn't been for days.
The sharp tread of boots cut through the silence, echoing off the polished marble floors. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. Reginald never walked softly when he was angry.
"Evelyn." His voice was controlled, but barely. "We need to talk."
She didn't flinch. She simply set the tablet down on the desk and turned with calculated calm. "What is it now, Reginald?"
He entered the study with an air of practiced command, jaw tense, tie slightly askew like he'd been pacing before finally deciding to confront her. His eyes, usually cold, now burned with something desperate.
"I'm done pretending," he said, voice low and simmering. "Why won't you divorce Vivienne?"
The words dropped like a grenade. Evelyn's spine straightened, her fingers curled against the hem of her blouse, nails digging lightly into her palm.
"You want me to divorce her?" she repeated, as if clarifying something ludicrous.
"Yes." He stepped closer, his tone taking on an edge sharper than before. "What can my younger sister offer? She's a ghost in this family. I need you focused. I need your loyalty — not entangled in a dying affair with a woman who —"
"Say her name," Evelyn interrupted, voice like frost.
His jaw ticked. "Vivienne."
"She's not a ghost. And we're not entangled — we're bound. Something you never understood." Her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Why now? What changed?"
"You did," he snapped. "You've been distant. Distracted. Eva's loyalty is divided and it's because of Vivienne's influence."
Evelyn gave a bitter laugh, brushing a strand of dark hair from her cheek. "You think this is about Eva?"
"It's always been about her," Reginald said, his eyes narrowing. "She's the future. The next Maxwell — Lioré. But not if Vivienne poisons her against me."
"You don't even see her," Evelyn whispered, her expression hollowing out. "You only see what she represents."
"I see a child being pulled in two directions. I need her steady. I need her prepared."
"No," Evelyn said softly, shaking her head. "You need her controllable."
Reginald stepped forward, voice rising. "You're choosing Vivienne over me again."
"I never chose you." The words were quiet, but they landed like a slap. "You came after Maxwell — after the lies, the annulment, after all of it — and I let you stay because I thought we could build something different. But you never wanted me. You wanted the name. The influence. The legacy."
"You needed me," he growled.
"I needed stability," she shot back. "You gave me structure, yes. But Vivienne gave me a reason to breathe. She never once used me for power."
He stared at her, face hard, then took a breath through clenched teeth. "She's a liability."
"She's your sister."
"She's weak."
"No," Evelyn said. "She's the only one who's strong enough to stay beside me without demanding more than I can give."
He scoffed. "You're delusional if you think she doesn't want something."
"She wants me happy. That's more than you've ever offered."
Reginald's shoulders tensed, fists curled at his sides. "We could rule this continent, Evelyn. Together. If you'd just let go of her."
"I'm not interested in ruling anything beside someone who sees my daughter as a pawn."
He froze. "Our daughter."
"She's not yours," Evelyn said bluntly. "Not biologically. Not emotionally. Not in any of the ways that matter. She calls you papa because I told her to. But if I told her tomorrow that you weren't — she'd walk away without blinking."
Reginald's voice dropped. "You wouldn't dare."
She stepped closer, eyes unblinking. "She's not your heir. And she never will be."
The storm outside intensified, wind rattling the windows as thunder growled across the hills. Reginald looked like a man on the verge of shattering. "I built everything for her. For us."
"No," Evelyn replied. "You built it for yourself. Every piece of this house, this name, this reputation — you constructed it as armor for your own ego."
"You're betraying me," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm freeing myself."
A beat of silence followed. He seemed frozen, caught in the unraveling of a fantasy he had convinced himself was real. Evelyn watched him with a strange, distant sadness. The kind one feels while watching a dying star from millions of miles away — beautiful, tragic, and inevitable.
"I loved you, once," he said suddenly.
"No, you didn't." She exhaled, her voice almost gentle. "You loved what I could do for you."
His voice cracked. "And Vivienne?"
She smiled faintly, pain flickering behind her expression. "Vivienne is the only one I ever truly loved. You always knew that."
"Then why the farce? Why keep up this illusion?"
"Because it kept you from destroying everything. Until now."
"You think you're strong enough to stop me alone?"
"I'm not alone," she replied. "Not anymore."
Reginald's eyes flicked toward the door, as if expecting someone to appear. No one did. But the silence that followed was louder than any scream. Evelyn took one final breath before walking toward the exit. Her heels echoed as she crossed the floor.
"Eva will never choose you," she said without turning back. "Not because I told her to. But because she already sees who you are."
She closed the door behind her.
In the silence that followed, Reginald remained motionless. The study, once his refuge, now felt foreign. Unsteady. Like it belonged to someone else. Like it had never been his.
Down the hallway, Evelyn walked quickly, each step heavier than the last. Her body was steady, but her heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and grief. She turned the corner and nearly collided with Vivienne.
Vivienne caught her arm gently. "I heard shouting."
"It's done," Evelyn said quietly.
Vivienne searched her face, brushing a lock of damp hair away from her forehead. "Are you all right?"
Evelyn hesitated. Then she nodded. "I will be."
Vivienne didn't press. She simply laced their fingers together and guided Evelyn toward the west wing. No words were needed. In that silence, something healed.
Later that night, Evelyn stood on the balcony of her private chambers, wrapped in a long cream sweater, cradling a mug of lukewarm tea she hadn't touched. Below, the estate lights glittered faintly. The city beyond glowed like an artificial constellation — cold, bright, distant.
Vivienne joined her, silent at first, then spoke softly. "He won't go quietly."
"I know."
"I can call Amaranth. Have her sweep the estate again."
"I've already sent the order."
Vivienne leaned on the railing beside her, arms folded. "Does Eva know?"
"No. And she won't. Not until she's older. Not until she can understand without taking it into herself."
Vivienne nodded slowly. "She's not ready."
"She's too soft," Evelyn murmured.
"She's not soft. She's kind." Vivienne's voice was steady. "Don't confuse the two."
Evelyn smiled faintly. "She gets that from you."
"No," Vivienne said. "She gets that from us."
The storm faded into a light drizzle, the kind that softened the air rather than bruising it. Evelyn set the mug down on the rail and looked out over the garden where Eva used to chase butterflies. A soft laugh escaped her.
"What?" Vivienne asked.
"She once asked me if you were an angel."
Vivienne's brows lifted. "What did you say?"
"That you were worse," Evelyn said, lips twitching. "You'd steal her soul before saving it."
Vivienne laughed. "Well, I never claimed to be merciful."
"No," Evelyn said, leaning against her. "But you were always mine."
Vivienne slid an arm around her waist, and together, they stood in silence, watching the city lights pulse beneath a wounded sky.