Chapter 5

Vincent frowned, his tone carrying a faint attempt at soothing when he turned to me, though it felt more like dismissive placation. "Elena, don't make a scene. Sophia's frail right now. The master bedroom's mattress is Nevorian custom memory foam, good for her back. Stay in the guest room for a few days. Once she's better, I'll move her."

I laughed bitterly, my anger burning through reason. "Vincent, that's our room! Have you forgotten what you said? You chose that mattress for my spine because of my childhood injury. You picked warm yellow wall lights because I'm afraid of the dark. You even carved our wedding rings into the bedframe, calling it our secret."

Those details, I thought he'd cherish. But he only lowered his eyes, his voice growing heavy. "Elena, now's not the time for this. Sophia saved my life. I can't let her suffer."

"And me?" I stepped forward, my voice trembling. "My sister's dead. You forced me to apologize to her killer. Now I'm giving up my own room. Vincent, what am I to you?"

The servants in the hallway kept their heads down, avoiding the spectacle.

The fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows on Vincent's face. He stayed silent, reaching for my shoulder, but I jerked away.

"Don't touch me." I stepped back, locking eyes with him.

I couldn't forget our first year of marriage. When his cousin Giancarlo called me a "flower shop whore" at a family gathering, Vincent banished him from the board and declared, "Elena is my wife. No one will make her suffer. Not even me."

But now? Every ounce of pain I felt came from him!

I turned to Sophia, clinging to his arm, my voice dripping with scorn. "You want my bedroom? What's next? Handing over my husband? Letting you sleep in my place, in his bed, fuck each other?"

Sophia's face paled, but she forced a response. "Elena, how could you say that? Vincent and I are just friends. I'd never ruin your marriage."

Vincent's frown deepened, his patience thinning. "Enough. Sophia, go rest."

He guided her toward the master bedroom, pausing as he passed me, his voice low. "Elena, don't push me. When Sophia's better, I'll make it up to you."

Make it up?

My heart felt gripped by an icy hand, the pain stealing my breath.

Some things, once broken, stayed broken.

Like Diana. Like our love. No compensation could fix that.

At the bedroom door, Sophia glanced back, her smile smug and mocking, a needle piercing my heart.

She stepped inside, Vincent following, not sparing me another look.

I stood frozen, staring at the closed door, as if all our warmth had been sealed inside, lost forever.

The hallway's warm lights glowed, but I felt frozen, like I'd fallen into a winter cellar in Eldoria.

I didn't know how long I stood there before turning slowly toward the guest room.

The room was plain-no warm yellow lights, no lily-scented candles, just a stiff single bed.

I sat on the edge, touching the cold sheets, and laughed. The laughter turned to tears.

Those vows, those sweet words, crumbled so easily before profit and so-called gratitude.

Vincent failed me.

I wiped my tears, staring at the haggard woman in the mirror.

"Diana, I swear you won't have died in vain. Sophia, Vincent, I'll take back everything you owe me, piece by piece."

Outside, the moon hid behind clouds, the estate silent except for distant dog barks.

Tonight, the naive, soft Elena died.

What lived now was a ghost driven by vengeance.

I would endure, bide my time through this darkness, and use their blood to honor Diana's memory.