Chapter 78 – The Thin Line Between Love and Hate

The grand estate of the Hellgrave Duchy lay in eerie silence as night deepened. The soft glow of lanterns cast elongated shadows across the vast hallways, where a lone figure walked with measured steps.

Verbena.

She had spent the past few weeks wrapped in the intricate web of revenge, watching as Theodore retaliated in kind. They were both playing a dangerous game, a battle of wit and emotions, neither willing to yield.

But tonight was different.

Her fingers tightened around the silk of her night robe as she made her way to the study. She knew he would be awake—Theodore never slept easily. Not when the air between them crackled with unresolved tension.

With a soft knock, she pushed open the door.

Theodore sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand. His sharp golden eyes flickered to her as she stepped in, his expression unreadable.

"You're still awake," she murmured, closing the door behind her.

"As are you," he countered, taking a slow sip.

She leaned against the door, arms crossed. "You've been avoiding me."

A slow, mocking smile spread across his lips. "Haven't you been doing the same, wife?"

Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Wife. A title she never wanted yet had to bear.

Verbena exhaled. "Enough of this, Theodore. We both know where this is going. It's exhausting."

He set his glass down, rising from his chair. "Is it? I thought you were enjoying this little game of vengeance."

His slow, deliberate steps toward her sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. She hated how easily he got under her skin, how her body betrayed her resolve.

"That's not the point," she said, her voice firmer. "We can't keep this up forever."

Theodore tilted his head, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. "Then tell me, Verbena, what do you want?"

Her breath hitched. What did she want?

Revenge had been her goal, but somewhere along the way, the lines blurred. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to leave anymore. But she couldn't let her heart falter—not when she had spent so long trying to free herself from him.

"I want my life back," she finally said, meeting his gaze with defiance.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, Theodore reached out, his gloved fingers tracing a strand of her silver hair.

"You say that…" his voice was quiet, almost too soft, "...and yet you keep coming back to me."

She slapped his hand away, stepping back. "Don't twist my words."

But he only smirked. "I don't have to. Your actions speak for themselves, wife."

Verbena's fists clenched. "If you think for even a second that I—"

"You what?" He stepped closer again, his warmth almost suffocating. "Hate me? Want to leave me? Or—" he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, "—are you just lying to yourself?"

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Damn him. Damn him and his ability to make her waver.

But she wouldn't fall. Not yet.

Straightening her posture, she met his gaze with fire in her eyes. "Believe what you want, Your Grace. But this isn't over."

And with that, she turned on her heels, walking away without another word.

But as she left, she could still feel his eyes on her, burning into her back.

And she hated how much she liked it.

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