CHAPTER THREE: THE MISTRESS GAME

The parlor was filled with soft murmurs and the delicate clinking of porcelain. The scent of chamomile and rosewater lingered in the air as finely dressed noblewomen sat in a semi-circle, their painted smiles masking their sharp tongues.

At the center of it all was Vivienne, her laughter light and melodic as she charmed the gathered ladies. She wore an emerald green dress, designed to draw attention, and her every movement was calculated to command the room.

Seraphina sat slightly apart, her posture regal yet detached, her presence understated but impossible to ignore. Dressed in a simpler gown of deep navy, she sipped her tea, her eyes calm and observant as the ladies spoke in veiled barbs and honeyed tones.

"Oh, Lady Vivienne," one of the younger noblewomen cooed, her voice dripping with admiration. "Your skin is radiant. You must tell us your secret."

Vivienne's lips curled into a coy smile as she delicately waved her hand. "It's nothing special, truly. Just a little care and the kindness of our dear Lord Alastair." She cast a glance at Seraphina, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

The subtle jab was not lost on the others. One of the older women leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's such a relief to see our Lord in good company these days. A true noblewoman knows how to support her husband, don't you think, Lady Seraphina?"

Seraphina didn't flinch. She set her teacup down gently, her gaze sweeping over the assembled women like a cool breeze. "A noblewoman," she said evenly, "supports her household by ensuring it remains intact. That includes curbing unnecessary indulgences."

The room grew silent, the air heavy with tension.

Vivienne's smile tightened, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head with mock innocence. "Lady Seraphina, you're always so practical. Perhaps a little more generosity would make the household even warmer."

Before Seraphina could respond, one of the ladies beside her made an exaggerated motion, her teacup tilting just enough for the hot liquid to spill over the edge, splashing onto Seraphina's gown.

"Oh dear!" the woman exclaimed, her voice feigning concern. "How clumsy of me! My deepest apologies, Lady Seraphina."

Gasps filled the room, and all eyes turned to Seraphina, expecting anger or humiliation.

Instead, Seraphina calmly dabbed at the stain with a handkerchief, her expression unchanging. She didn't even glance at the woman who had spilled the tea.

"It's nothing," Seraphina said coolly, her voice smooth as silk. "Accidents happen."

The noblewoman fidgeted nervously, her boldness wavering under Seraphina's unwavering composure.

Vivienne, sensing an opportunity, leaned forward with a sweet smile. "Lady Seraphina, you're truly unshakable. Perhaps you'd reconsider my allowance now? It's all for the betterment of the household, after all."

Seraphina's gaze finally shifted to Vivienne, her calm demeanor giving way to a sharp, steely edge.

"No matter what your game is, Vivienne," Seraphina said, her voice low but carrying enough weight to silence the entire room, "your allowance will not be increased." She leaned back slightly, her gaze unwavering. "You're still a mistress, and no amount of theatrics will change that."

The words struck like a blade. The room fell into a stunned silence, and for a moment, even Vivienne couldn't hide her shock.

The corners of Seraphina's lips tilted upward in the faintest hint of a smile. She stood gracefully, brushing her gown as if the spilled tea were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she said with quiet authority, "I have more important matters to attend to."

She turned and walked out of the room, her presence lingering like the scent of jasmine, leaving the women in stunned silence and Vivienne's carefully constructed façade beginning to crack.

*****

The loud, stinging slap echoed through the room, the sound so sharp it seemed to vibrate in the very air. Seraphina's cheek burned with the force of it, but her posture remained straight. She looked up slowly, her gaze cool, though her heartbeat with a quiet fury.

The Marquis of Aelthwyn stood before her, his face twisted in disdain, a sneer playing on his lips. His eyes—cold and calculating—met hers, a clear message that she was nothing more than a disappointment.

Behind him, her half-brothers and sisters stood in silence, their eyes cold and detached, as if they had long ago abandoned any semblance of familial love. They were merely observers in this theatre of cruelty.

"Useless," the Marquis spat, his voice sharp with venom. "An illegitimate daughter brought into this house after years of your absence. And you can't even seduce a man properly. What kind of woman are you?"

Seraphina swallowed hard, the taste of bitter irony filling her mouth. She had run to this man—the one who had barely acknowledged her existence—when she fled from the underworld's grasp, seeking refuge in his house. Now, this was how she was repaid.

"I've no use for you, Seraphina," the Marquis continued, his voice rising. "If I had known it would come to this, I would never have taken you in. You're a failure. A failure to even secure the simplest of comforts. And yet you come to me, asking for what? A place? A purpose?"

His words were like daggers, each one digging deeper into the wound she had long buried within herself. She fought to keep her expression impassive, but the sting of his rejection was impossible to ignore.

The room held its breath as the Marquis stepped forward. "Kneel," he ordered, his voice hard as iron.

Without hesitation, Seraphina lowered herself to her knees, her head held high despite the bitterness seeping into her veins. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her bow her head in shame.

"Pathetic," he muttered, before turning away. "Deal with the mistress. You failed to handle Vivienne, so you'll take responsibility for her nonsense."

His words cut through her like a blade. She was nothing but an instrument to be used, a tool in the game of power and control, and her worth was as thin as the air she breathed.

Without another glance, Seraphina rose from her knees, her body trembling with quiet rage. She took her leave from the room, her steps slow but resolute. Her father's rejection had once again confirmed her place in this world—an illegitimate daughter, a mistake to be erased, a failure to be discarded.

Outside, the cold wind bit at her skin as she climbed into the waiting carriage. The door shut behind her with a soft thud, sealing her away from the suffocating house that had once been a symbol of potential.

The ride back to the Duke's manor was long and silent. As the carriage rolled through the city streets, Seraphina gazed out the window, watching the world pass by, her thoughts consumed with the weight of her father's words.

Is this freedom?

She had run from the underworld to escape a life bound by bloodshed and violence, to seek refuge in a place that was supposed to offer her peace, yet here she was—unwanted, unloved, and trapped in a gilded cage.

The thought gnawed at her like a persistent ache. Was this freedom, to be discarded by her flesh and blood, treated as little more than a tool in the hands of those who saw her as nothing but an inconvenience? Was the price of freedom truly this high?

The carriage jolted as it passed over a bump, bringing Seraphina back to reality. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cold air swirl around her, filling her lungs. The world outside continued its chaotic dance, and yet she felt as though she were standing still, tethered to a fate she could neither change nor escape.

As the manor drew closer, the familiar silhouette of the Duke's home loomed in the distance. Another cage. Another set of chains, invisible.

Seraphina let out a breath, her chest tight.

If this is freedom, she thought bitterly, then perhaps I am not meant to be free.