"That's not it!" the Marquess snapped, but his voice no longer carried its former strength.
He looked at Ivanka again, longer this time.
"I want you to live," he said quietly. "And for now… living means staying away from the Duke."
He stepped closer.
"Get into the carriage. We will send you to the southern border. You will be safe there. After this storm passes, we will decide the next step."
Ivanka stood still.
She knew this was no longer about choice.
If she refused, her father would be driven further into a corner. And a cornered man could do far more terrible things.
Slowly, she nodded.
Without another word, she turned and walked toward the courtyard.
The carriage was waiting.
Four black horses stamped their hooves, breath steaming in the cold morning air.
The Marchioness embraced Ivanka before she stepped inside. Her sobs broke free.
"Forgive me…"
Ivanka offered a faint smile.
"Do not worry."
It was a small lie she gave her mother.
The carriage door closed.
