Matthias lunged forward, his fingers clamping like iron shackles around her wrists, anchoring her to the spot.
"I did this for you, Olivia," he growled, his voice a low vibration of desperate conviction. "You have to accept it. You have to accept the simple, cold fact that he is gone."
With a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline, Olivia wrenched her hands free. Her chest rose and fell in jagged heaves, her breath coming in shallow gasps. But it was her eyes that spoke loudest—blazing with a look of betrayal that cut deeper than the grief itself.
"You didn't help me, Matthias," she spat, the words trembling with venom.
"You shattered me. I expected this coldness from the world, from anyone but you. How could you? You knew what that room meant to me... it was the last thread binding me to him, and you severed it. Why?"
Matthias closed the distance between them. He cupped her face in his palms, his touch firm, forcing her gaze to meet the raw, painful tension in his own eyes. "You know exactly why I did it," he whispered, his voice strained to the breaking point.
In the hollow silence that followed, Isabella's warnings began to toll in Olivia's mind like funeral bells. The truth hit her with the crushing weight of an avalanche: her obsession with the past had become a ghost so visible that even the shadows had noticed. Her mind, a long-standing fortress of denial, finally buckled under the bitter weight of reality.
She collapsed to the floor, a heap of broken spirit, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold the fragments of her soul together.
Matthias watched her, his features masked in a shroud of sorrow. He sank to his knees beside her, yet he didn't dare touch her—not yet. "I know I am a villain in your eyes right now," he murmured. "But one day, Olivia, you will thank me."
He stood up, preparing to retreat into the gloom. "I know you can't stand the sight of me after what I've done. I'll go. Just... take your medicine."
She turned her face away, refusing to grant him even a final glance. "Get out of my sight, Matthias."
The door clicked shut, leaving her swallowed by the silence. She reached for the glass, swallowing the pill with a numb mechanicalness. A sharp, hollow laugh escaped her lips as she caught her reflection in the mirror—a stranger staring back.
"Pathetic," she whispered to the glass, her voice a ghost of itself. "When will I finally reach the other side? When will I be free?"
The room had grown desolate in his absence, the air thick with an oppressive stillness. For a long hour, Olivia remained curled upon the floor, a fractured shell of herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own mind.
Finally, a weary sigh broke the silence. She rose, her movements heavy and mechanical, and walked straight to the door.
When she swung it open, she found Matthias. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Despite the lethal exhaustion etched into his features, he hadn't moved an inch.
She let out a long, tired breath. "Why are you still here?"
His eyes swept over her, noting the dried tears and the eerie calm that had replaced her fury. "It seems you've finally found your composure," he remarked, his voice raspy.
"You told me to get out of your sight, not to abandon your door. I'm here because your mind hasn't been a safe place lately. I couldn't risk one of your... darker impulses taking hold."
"I still despise the sight of you," she countered, her voice cold. "What you did is unforgivable. But then again, my own past offers me no grace. I suppose I'm destined to be the villain in your story regardless."
"Since you've returned to your senses," Matthias said, ignoring the barb, "you must realize I did it for your own sake."
Olivia reached out, grabbing the lapel of his shirt and pulling him toward the threshold.
"For heaven's sake, are you going to finish this sermon in the hallway? You're making me look pathetic. Just get in."
He stepped inside, wary. "What now? Are you going to demand an accounting for my sins?"
She met his gaze with a chilling indifference. "Accountability? No. You did what you thought was right, even if it was the act of a scoundrel. It's done. There's no point in debating the ashes. I'm going to sleep."
"Sleep?" he echoed, blinking in surprise.
"Yes, sleep. The medicine you insisted I take is finally dragging me under."
"Right. Then... I suppose I should leave you to it."
She looked at his bloodshot eyes, seeing the weight of the vigil he had kept. "I know you'll just stand guard at my door all night like a phantom. I'm sleeping.
She looks at him "
I should kill you for what you have done," she slurred, her eyelids drooping under the heavy weight of the sedative. "But I don't have the strength to even hate you right now. Just... stay. you can take the other side of the bed. I truly don't care, you look miserable.
Without a word, Matthias sank onto the edge of the bed. He didn't lie down at first, his back a rigid line of exhaustion as he kept his final vigil.
But the silence of the room, coupled with the crushing weight of the days he'd spent watching over her, finally took its toll. Slowly, his resistance buckled, and he collapsed beside her.
Within minutes, the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the utterly defeated took hold.
Olivia, her senses dulled and her limbs leaden from the sedative, felt the bed shift under his weight. She wanted to push him away, but the darkness was already pulling her under. She fell into a dreamless, heavy void.
The next morning, the pale, indifferent light of dawn revealed an empty bed. Matthias was gone, as if he had been nothing more than a fever dream, leaving behind only a scattering of vibrant blue petals upon the chilled sheets.
A bitter, hollow smile ghosted across her lips. It wasn't a smile of forgiveness, but of recognition.
She gathered the delicate petals with trembling, cold fingers and tucked them away in her jewelry box—adding one more secret to the collection of her ruined life.
In a secluded wing of the manor, Leon sat in absolute stillness, his gaze anchored upon Emilia with a chilling intensity. He studied her with a newfound, unsettling detachment, tracing every line of her figure from head to toe.
"Your attire has changed," he remarked, his voice devoid of warmth. "It's a new look for you. You always favored the garments of men—all sharp lines and dark shadows. This... softness... it feels foreign."
Emilia met his scrutiny with a flash of unadulterated cynicism. She adjusted the lace of her sleeve with a sharp flick of her wrist, her eyes shimmering with disdain.
"Is this why you summoned me here? To offer a critique of my wardrobe? Or simply to mock my choices?"
Leon leaned back, interlacing his fingers over his knee with practiced grace. "Not at all. I simply desired a pleasant afternoon in the company of my elder sister."
"Your elder sister?" she echoed, a sharp edge to her tone. "Very well then, little brother. I am all yours. Let us see just how 'pleasant' this afternoon can become."
He watched her in silence as she took a slow, deliberate sip from her teacup. "I trust the tea is to your liking?"
"It is, Lord Leon," she replied, her voice clipped.
A ghost of a false smile touched his lips. "There is no need for such frigid formalities between us. We are of the same blood, after all. One family. Call me 'brother'."
Emilia hesitated for a heartbeat before yielding. "As you wish... brother."
"Tell me," Leon continued, his tone conversational yet predatory, "I've always wondered about your bond with Layla.
Do you truly love her? I only ask because, legally speaking, she is not your sister by birth. The connection is... diluted."
Emilia's response was instantaneous, her voice like striking flint.
"It is no different from the bond you share with Matthias. We may not share the same mother, but she is my sister nonetheless. I would offer my very soul to protect her."
A sinister smile unfurled across his face. "Your soul? Those are heavy words, Emilia. Do you truly have the fortitude to sacrifice yourself just to ensure her happiness?"
She met his gaze with unwavering iron. "Without a shadow of a doubt. She is the sister of my heart, and I would do it without a moment's hesitation."
"Beautiful," Leon whispered, the word trailing off like a threat. "Truly beautiful."
Emilia tilted her head, her features turning stone-cold. "Why do you ask such a thing?"
"Merely to ease my conscience," he replied smoothly.
"To ease your conscience?" A dark reflection of his own smile tugged at the corners of her mouth—a terrifying resemblance that spoke of their shared blood.
"Ah, I see. You are referring to the poison laced within this tea, are you not? I must admit, Leon, it's an exquisite choice. Its bitterness is almost indistinguishable from the tea leaves. You have refined taste in these matters, though had you stirred it into a black tea, it would have been truly impossible to detect."
A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his face before he masked it with a sharp, hollow laugh.
"Poison? Emilia, what dark fantasies are dancing in your mind? To suggest that I would murder my own sister... that is beyond the pale. Truly unthinkable."
Emilia didn't blink. She set the cup down, the porcelain clattering against the saucer with a finality that echoed in the room. She leaned toward him, her gaze dissecting him with terrifying precision.
"Oh, really?" she whispered, her voice a low silken thread.
"You cannot deceive me, Leon. For heaven's sake, we share the same blood—are you trying to trick your own veins? You see, I have an... intimate... history with this particular toxin. We are old acquaintances, this poison and I. It leaves a signature that is impossible to forget."
The mask of the 'innocent brother' began to crumble under the weight of her stare. Emilia's smile widened, though it remained void of any sisterly affection. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous curiosity.
"So, tell me, little brother," she continued, her voice dropping to a deadly hush. "Why are you so desperate to silence me forever?"