Lucius collapsed into illness the moment he returned home.
Fever consumed him, leaving him delirious and muttering Bella's name like a broken prayer.
Rowena Thorne watched her son's pitiful state, fury and heartbreak warring in her chest.
With a violent sweep of her arm, she sent a crystal cup crashing to the floor. "All this devastation over some woman? Look what she's reduced you to!"
"That Bella is absolutely vile," Rowena seethed inwardly.
The servants cowered in terrified silence, afraid to even breathe. An elderly maid finally crept forward, speaking in hushed, careful tones. "Madam, Lord Thorne's emotions run too deep. For a man in his position, such weakness could prove dangerous."
Her fingers worked gently at Rowena's temples, gradually easing the tension from her mistress's face.
But Rowena's expression remained stormy. "That's precisely what infuriates me most," she thought bitterly. "Is Lucius truly willing to destroy himself over Bella?"
