A HEARTBREAKING WELCOME

The next day, Velma was assigned a small stone-walled room deep within the maid's quarters. It was modest, dimly lit, and slightly chilly, but it gave her a roof and cover for her mission. She wasn't alone, though. Her roommate turned out to be none other than Evelyn—the same maid who had been visiting Lucian.

When Evelyn entered the room, she looked up in surprise.

"Oh! You're the new one, right? They said someone new was joining us."

Velma gave a polite smile. "Yes. I'm Velma."

Evelyn grinned warmly. "I'm Evelyn. It's nice to meet you."

They shook hands. Velma felt the nervousness in her chest loosen a little.

"I've seen you before," Velma said casually, settling on her bed. "With Lucian. I know him. He's like a brother to me."

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly, a blush touching her cheeks. "You know Lucian? Really?"

Velma nodded with a smile. "Yeah. We go way back."

Evelyn giggled. "Well, that means we're going to get along just fine!"

They talked a little more—mostly about daily schedules, shifts, and how the palace operated. Evelyn seemed genuinely kind, eager to befriend Velma.

Later that morning, Velma was summoned to the palace kitchen. A steaming tray of tea had been prepared, and she was instructed to deliver it to Azarel's private chamber.

Her hands trembled as she accepted the tray.

She made her way slowly through the winding halls of the palace, her heart thudding with each step. Lucian's warnings echoed in her mind. She kept her head down, careful to move just as the others did.

When she reached the grand door to Azarel's chamber, she paused, took a breath, and knocked softly.

"Enter," came the deep voice from inside.

She stepped in and nearly dropped the tray.

There he was.

Daniel.

Or rather, Azarel.

He lounged on the massive bed, shirtless, regal in his demonic beauty, and lying against him, her head resting comfortably on his chest, was Azarath. Their limbs were intertwined casually—intimately. As if no other world had ever existed.

Velma swallowed the lump in her throat. Her steps faltered.

Azarel's red eyes flicked toward her, indifferent. Azarath didn't even glance up.

"Your tea, my lord," Velma said in a soft, neutral voice. She placed the tray on the side table, her hands slightly shaking.

Neither of them acknowledged her at first.

As she turned to leave, Azarel's voice stopped her.

"I've never seen you here before."

Velma paused, still facing the door. "I'm new," she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Just transferred today."

He hummed slightly in acknowledgment, and she took that as her cue to leave.

She closed the door behind her gently and walked quickly down the corridor.

Her heart cracked with every step.

She had known it would hurt.

But she hadn't known it would feel like this.

Her eyes stung, blurring the stone floor before her.

Azarel—the man she had called husband—had looked at her with no recognition.

And worse… he had held another woman the way he used to hold her.

Still, she pressed on, not letting the tears fall until she turned the corner, far out of sight.