Elias frowned slightly, hesitating for a moment before speaking with cautious restraint, his voice probing as though he were testing unsteady ground.
"Could this… perhaps be a misunderstanding? I'll admit, I've never been fond of my brother, but he isn't the kind of man who would do something like that."
The moment the words left his lips, Livia's head snapped up. A cold light flickered in her eyes, her tone sharp, dripping with scorn.
"Oh? You're defending him? Hah. Of course—you two brothers, birds of a feather."
The sudden venom struck Elias like a blade. He froze, staring at Livia in disbelief. Tonight, she felt different, unfamiliar. The gentle radiance he knew seemed veiled beneath a darker shadow. Her words were edged with barbs, her manner restless and strangely urgent, leaving him unable to decipher her true intentions.
Sensing his hesitation, Livia's gaze softened, her voice lowering into something almost coaxing, a subtle lure hidden in her tone.
"I know… you've admired me all this time. And truthfully… I understand. You would treat me better than he ever has. Wouldn't you?"
Her words landed like a drumbeat against Elias's chest, his heart suddenly racing. Before he could respond, Livia extended her hand, laying it gently over his. Her touch was warm, trembling faintly, carrying with it a softness that burned through him.
Elias's breath caught. That long-suppressed yearning he had buried deep within almost shattered its chains. This was the very scene he had imagined countless times in secret—Livia no longer a distant star, but warmth within reach.
And yet, precisely because of this, a sharp alarm flared inside him. At the last possible moment, reason seized him by the collar and pulled him back from the brink. He drew in a deep breath, his voice trembling as he withdrew his hand, though his eyes held a steady, solemn light.
"This isn't right. If Marcellus truly is the bastard you say he is, then we should expose him. If it's proven, then you can divorce him. And when that time comes, I swear, even if the world stands against us, I will marry you."
Livia faltered, then let out a low laugh—cold, faintly bitter.
"You're far too naïve. His power runs too deep. The moment such rumors spread, he'll smother them, twist the story, and lock both of us in chains. We would have no chance to resist." Her voice grew more impassioned, her eyes glittering with a strange, conflicted light. "I… I need the power to protect myself."
Elias's heart tightened. His tone was firm now, yet tinged with comfort, as though trying to soothe her storm.
"Don't be afraid. I have my own resources. They may not rival Marcellus's empire, but they're enough to shield you—and me."
But Livia shook her head. Her voice dropped, low yet unyielding.
"Not enough… What I want is power of my own. My own strength. Will you help me? Find someone who can train me, teach me how to fight, so I can defend myself with my own hands?"
Silence stretched for several seconds. Elias's eyes softened, the last of his resistance crumbling piece by piece. At last, he nodded slowly, the weight of his promise clear in every word.
"Then so be it. Very well, Livia. I'll find someone for you."
A faint smile curved Livia's lips, elusive and unreadable. She lifted her eyes, voice soft as a whisper.
"You're so kind."
And with that, she leaned against his chest.
Elias stiffened, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air, unsure what to do. The closeness was so sudden it startled him—reason whispered he should not allow it, yet desire roared, making it impossible to push her away. At last, with trembling hands, he lowered his palm onto her hair, brushing gently across the crown of her head. His breathing grew slow and heavy, his gaze clouded with confusion and longing.
What he failed to notice, however, was the glint in Livia's eyes as she pressed against him. In that fleeting moment, her expression darkened, cold and calculating. It was not the look of a woman surrendering to trust, but of one weaving threads of a hidden scheme.
The tenderness of her closeness was not reliance, not love—merely another small piece in a much larger plan.