The sun did not feel bright within the walls of the Vernhardt manor. It felt like a spotlight illuminating the ruins of a battlefield. While the rest of the Capital buzzed with the scandalous details of the Duke of Aldenar's garden party, the air inside the home of the Vernhardts was thick with the scent of stale incense and simmering rage.
Liera sat in her chamber. Even through the heavy wood, she could hear the muffled, jagged sounds of the house in turmoil. A vase had shattered in the hallway ten minutes ago, followed by the sound of a maid sobbing and Marien's high-pitched, vibrating scream. Their father had been locked in his study since the moment they returned, refusing to see even his favorite daughter, but his silence was perhaps more terrifying than Marien's noise. It was the silence of a man calculating the cost of a ruined reputation.
