In the Process of Breaking Her...

The strange arrangement continued for several days...

each one dragging Ivanna deeper into a misery she never imagined possible.

She felt like she was slowly dying.

Her stomach constantly ached.

Her lips were dry.

Her body felt light, weak, hollow.

And worst of all...

she craved real food.

Hot food.

Cooked food.

Meals she had taken for granted her entire life.

Now?

She lived on fruits, bread, water... scraps.

Like a prisoner.

She couldn't even step outside her room without feeling her heart rattle with fear.

Between Lady Margaret's monstrous strength and that cold, merciless stare...

Ivanna's survival instincts screamed one truth:

Avoid her at all costs.

One wrong move and Margaret would break her like a twig.

By now, even Ivanna couldn't pretend not to see it.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Whatever her parents believed about Eugene...

Ivanna was convinced it was a lie.

He didn't love her.

He didn't want her.

He probably hated either her or her family deeply.

They had fallen into a trap.

A dangerous one.

And Ivanna...

spoiled, proud, pampered Ivanna...

was paying the price for their mistake.

But even in her despair, one instinct burned brighter than everything else:

Survive.

If her parents ever realized their error, if they ever came to rescue her...

she needed to still be alive when that day came.

The Sixth Day

Ivanna woke abruptly, her senses pierced by a sharp delicious aroma drifting into her room.

Chicken.

Spices.

Fresh bread.

Warm broth.

Her mouth watered instantly.

Her empty stomach cramped and twisted until she winced.

She couldn't resist.

She staggered out of bed and followed the scent like she was hypnotized.

In the kitchen stood Lady Margaret,

the towering, muscular terror, stirring pots and flipping pans like she was preparing a royal banquet.

Ivanna swallowed hard.

Forcing herself to act indifferent, she grabbed a bottle of water from the counter and escaped outside to the fountain, pretending she had come only for that.

She sat there, hugging the bottle, trying to calm her nerves as that heavenly scent tormented her.

Minutes passed.

Hours maybe.

Finally, she re-entered the house.

Lady Margaret had moved to the dining table...

and once again, an entire feast lay displayed in front of her.

Golden rice.

Grilled vegetables.

Crisp chicken.

Freshly baked rolls.

Steaming soups.

Ivanna couldn't look away this time.

She approached the table like someone walking toward salvation.

"I'm hungry," she said.

Silence.

"I said I'm hungry!" she insisted, louder.

Silence.

Her voice sharpened with desperation.

"Is Eugene aware you're starving me? Do you people want to kill me? Even kidnappers feed the person they kidnap! What is wrong with everyone in this cursed house? And why don't you ever say anything?! Are you mute too? This place is insane... all of you are insane!"

She turned to leave...

until Lady Margaret's voice floated behind her, calm and cold.

"I noticed you've been sleeping in different guest rooms instead of cleaning your own," she said.

"Today, you will clean your room."

Ivanna spun back, enraged.

"I will do no such thing! You can die if you want... cleaning is NOT my job! I said I won't do the chores of a maid!"

Margaret simply shrugged, unbothered.

Ivanna stormed down the hall, intending to hide in another room...

but when she tried the first door...

Locked.

She tried the second.

Locked.

Third.

Locked.

Every single guest room...

sealed shut.

Except hers.

Her filthy, smelly, disastrous room.

She stood frozen, fury burning hotter than her hunger.

Then she marched back to Margaret.

"What exactly are you doing?! Why did you lock all the rooms?!"

Margaret didn't even look up from her meal.

"Because that's not how humans live," she said simply.

"You cannot run from responsibility forever. Sooner or later, you will run out of rooms. And then what? Will you sleep outside? Clean your room."

Ivanna's voice cracked.

"Why are you doing this to me? First you starve me, now you lock me out of every room? How am I supposed to survive in that filthy room?! I can't clean it alone...this is wicked!"

Margaret raised a hand, silencing her.

"I am eating. I do not talk while eating. If you still haven't grasped the simple instructions I've given you, then kindly leave."

Ivanna stared at the dishes again,

her eyes burning with agony and humiliation.

"You're wicked," she whispered.

"You don't even need all this food. You're just doing this to hurt me."

Margaret smirked slightly and lifted a brow.

"Ivanna, stop acting like a spoiled child. You're not being punished, you're being trained. Once you learn how to behave, your life will return to perfection."

The softness in her voice, so unexpected, made Ivanna blink.

For the first time...

Margaret didn't seem like a monster.

Just... firm.

Strict.

And Ivanna, weakened and starving, finally began weighing her options.

She breathed out slowly and said in a small, careful voice:

"...If I learn how to cook... I won't starve anymore, right?"

"Yes."

That single word tasted like defeat, but Ivanna swallowed it anyway.

Survival first, everything else could wait.

Until she saw Eugene again, she would play along. She would endure.

She would live.

"Okay," she breathed, trying to keep her pride from shattering, "I'm willing to learn. Can you... teach me now?"

Lady Margaret nodded with a surprising calmness.

"After breakfast. Sit. Eat. Then I'll teach you how to prepare your lunch and dinner. Is that acceptable?"

Ivanna didn't even hear the rest.

Permission to eat, that was all she needed.

She dropped into the chair and began eating with a desperation she couldn't hide.

She devoured everything, gulping, shoving, tearing at the food as if someone would pull the plate away at any moment.

Lady Margaret watched, unimpressed, her brows tightening in quiet disapproval.

When Ivanna finished, she slumped back, breathless and overstuffed.

The moment her hunger disappeared... so did her interest in "learning."

She excused herself immediately, clutching her stomach dramatically, and returned to her room.

But the instant she stepped in, she froze.

The mess.

The chaos.

The smell.

Reality punched her in the face.

Still, she forced herself to start.

Clumsily. Angrily.

Every movement filled with resentment.

She bent to pick up a broken porcelain vase...

"Ah!"

The sharp edge sliced her finger, and she screamed, expecting someone to rush in.

Anyone.

But no one came.

The silence was worse than the pain.

Her eyes burned with frustrated tears as she shoved her wounded finger into her mouth and continued cleaning, slower this time, more careful.

Hours later, exhausted and shaking, she collapsed onto her newly cleared bed.

It wasn't perfect.

Not even close.

But it was clean enough to lie in.

For the first time since arriving, Ivanna slept soundly.

The Next Days

The routine repeated itself.

Eat.

Learn.

Clean.

Endure.

She had no choice.

When she entered the kitchen for her first cooking lesson, she coughed endlessly from the smoke.

Her eyes watered.

Her throat burned.

Her hair smelled like firewood.

But she learned.

Because learning meant eating.

And eating meant surviving.

Gradually, shockingly, she began to realize cooking wasn't as impossible as she thought.

Not with Lady Margaret guiding her step by step.

She also discovered that if she didn't scatter her belongings or create explosions of clothes in her room, cleaning wasn't nearly as hard.

The stress still pressed on her like a weight, but she finally stopped feeling like a prisoner.

Until the day she fell sick.

The fever struck like a slap.

Her head throbbed, her vision blurred, and her body heated like a furnace.

She lay on her bed, trembling.

Lady Margaret entered, saw her flushed face, and simply placed a bottle of medicine on the bedside table.

"Take this."

"That's all?!" Ivanna croaked. "I need a hospital! Call Eugene! Someone!"

Margaret walked away without a second glance.

The neglect stung more than the fever itself.

Ivanna felt small.

Invisible.

Disposable.

That was when the idea of escape began whispering in her mind.

For days she planned, imagining routes, timing movements, memorizing guard rotations.

Finally, her moment arrived.

Before dawn, the maids' transport van arrived as usual.

While they unloaded supplies, Ivanna slipped inside and hid behind stacked boxes, heart hammering like a drum.

The van moved.

It passed the inner gate.

The courtyard checkpoint.

Two guard stations.

No alarms.

She dared to hope.

But at the final gate, the largest, most fortified one, the van stopped.

A guard's voice thundered:

"Everyone, step out. Full inspection."

Ivanna's heart plummeted.

The guards searched the van ruthlessly, and seconds later...

"Found her."

Rough hands dragged Ivanna out kicking and screaming.

Humiliation burned her skin hotter than the fever.

She was dragged back to Lady Margaret, dumped at her feet like a captured animal.

Margaret didn't yell.

Didn't scold.

Didn't show anger.

"Outside," she said calmly.

Ivanna didn't understand, not until she was forced to kneel in the yard under the unforgiving sun.

Minutes passed.

Hours.

Her skin burned.

Her knees numb.

Her vision swam.

She truly thought she might die there.

At the Same Time - The Prince's Office

Prince Eugene was signing documents when the door suddenly flew open.

A bright, musical voice rang out:

"Surprise!"

A beautiful young woman bounced into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

Eugene looked up, visibly startled.

"Vanessa? What are you doing here?!"

She laughed as if the question was ridiculous.

"I came to see my big brother, can't I?"

"You didn't inform me. And do Mother and Father know you're in Texas?"

"Hm... not exactly," she said in a childish tone, rocking on her heels.

"I just missed you. So I bought a ticket and came!"

Eugene pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, now that you've seen me, you can go back."

"What?! I just arrived!" she exclaimed, hurt.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"I am happy," he said quickly, "but I'm extremely busy. I don't have time to entertain you."

"That's fine. I don't need babysitting."

She shrugged cheerfully.

"I'll go home on my own."

"...Home?" Eugene repeated slowly.

Suspicion crept into his tone.

"Your home, of course! I miss that castle of yours. I'll head there now."

"No."

The word shot from his mouth too quickly.

Vanessa blinked.

"Why not? Why are you acting so strange since I got here?"

Eugene coughed, struggling to mask his anxiety.

"I... uh... I'm not acting strange."

But he was.

Desperately so.

"Actually... it's nothing," Eugene said, forcing a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"The castle is undergoing reconstruction. Yes, reconstruction. So no one is staying there at the moment. I've been sleeping at my other house, the condominium near the company. You... might not like the place, so I was thinking..." he cleared his throat, "...why don't I call a hotel and prepare a suite for you?"

Vanessa shook her head firmly.

"I didn't come to stay in a hotel. I came to see my brother. Wherever you are staying... is where I'll stay."

Eugene's jaw clenched.

"...Alright then. The condominium it is."

Before Vanessa could question that stiff expression on his face, the landline rang.

He picked it up.

At the same moment, his phone vibrated with a new message, and Vanessa happened to glance at it.

YOUR WIFE TRIED ESCAPING AGAIN, SIR.

Vanessa froze.

Wife?

His wife?

Since when?!

Before she could fully process the shock, Eugene ended his call and picked up his cell phone.

The moment he read the message... his entire face hardened.

A frigid, intimidating aura replaced the mild annoyance from moments ago.

His eyes darkened, his posture sharpened.

He pressed a button.

A knock sounded almost instantly.

Nicolas entered the office.

Vanessa's heart raced.

Something was very, very wrong, and she was now certain that message was not a mistake.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Eugene spoke.

"Vanessa," he said without looking at her, "you can go now. I'm busy."

His tone was cold.

Dismissive.

Commanding.

Vanessa forced a smile.

"Okay... no problem. I'll get going now. Take care... bye."

She walked out calmly.

The moment the door closed... she pressed her ear to it.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a whisper.

The office was soundproof.

Her curiosity, however, wasn't.

She stepped away, crossed her arms, and muttered:

"Fine. If big brother won't tell me what he's hiding... I'll find out myself."

And with that... she headed straight for the castle.

IVANNA'S ROOM

Ivanna lay curled on the couch, her entire body trembling.

Her vision spun, her skin burned, and her breath came in shallow gasps.

The punishment Lady Margaret gave her today had pushed her too far.

Her fever was back, harsher, hotter, almost blinding.

When the door opened, she didn't lift her head.

She barely cared.

Probably Lady Margaret again... here to torment me some more, she thought bitterly.

But then...

She caught a scent.

A rare, expensive perfume.

Soft, floral, unmistakably luxurious.

Louis XIV.

A limited edition she had seen only once, on a fashion runway.

Lady Margaret would never wear something like that.

Ivanna weakly pushed herself up and turned her head.

And froze.

A young woman stood in the doorway.

She looked to be Ivanna's age, or perhaps a little younger, but she was dressed like royalty... elegant, radiant, breathtakingly polished.

Her lake-blue designer gown flowed like silk water.

A ruby necklace glowed at her throat.

Her fair skin glimmered.

She moved with the grace of someone raised in wealth and privilege.

Her beauty was dazzling.

Her presence overwhelming.

Ivanna felt smaller than ever.

Vanessa blinked, equally shocked to see an exhausted, feverish, stunningly beautiful girl curled on the couch.

Everything about her screamed:

wealth... privilege... power.

But what shocked Ivanna the most was the expression on the girl's face...

not disdain,

not arrogance,

but genuine surprise.

Almost... confusion.

Vanessa blinked, taking in the sight of the frail girl curled on the couch, sweat-drenched and trembling.

She had come expecting secrets, perhaps even scandal.

She never expected this.

A beautiful girl with a fever.

A girl who looked trapped.

A girl who looked like she hadn't eaten properly in days.

A girl who, despite her condition, still managed to possess a breathtaking, delicate kind of beauty.

Vanessa entered the room slowly, her heels clicking softly against the marble.

Ivanna's heart pounded with a sudden, unfamiliar fear.

This girl... whoever she was... didn't belong to the nightmare she had been living.

Her gown alone must've cost more than people's entire closet.

And she was staring at Ivanna with wide, startled eyes.

For a brief second, Ivanna wondered if she was hallucinating.

Earlier...

Vanessa had come to the castle in defiance of her brother's warning, her instincts gnawing at her all morning. Eugene's strange behavior, his clipped tone, the hurried dismissal... Everything felt wrong.

And when she arrived at the mansion, her suspicions only deepened.

There were no signs of reconstruction. No workers. No tools. No noise.

Nothing... except an unnerving quietness and the eerie absence of most maids.

Something was off.

Trusting her instincts, she began searching room by room. Ten rooms later... after nearly giving up... she opened the next door and froze.

There, curled up on a couch, was a girl.

A breathtakingly beautiful girl, though currently pale, drenched in sweat, and clearly feverish.

Vanessa stepped inside slowly, eyes widening in disbelief.

Even through the disheveled hair and trembling shoulders, the girl's beauty was undeniable.

A soft, delicate kind that struck instantly... raw and untouched.

The kind of beauty that didn't need a single drop of makeup.

For a second, Vanessa simply stared, momentarily mesmerized.

Then the girl lifted her head weakly, and their gazes met.

Vanessa recovered first, offering a warm smile.

"Hi... my name is Vanessa. You must be my brother's wife, right?"

Her voice was warm, bright, almost musical...

the complete opposite of Margaret's cold commands.

Ivanna blinked.

Brother's... wife?

The resemblance between this girl and Eugene was unmistakable, the eyes, the jawline, even the subtle lift of their brows... minus the cold aura that made Ivanna tremble.

She wasn't imagining things.

This girl was truly his sister.

A real family member.

So he wasn't a ghost...

Not a scammer.

Not a phantom.

He truly existed, and this was truly his sister.

Proof that her marriage...

her nightmare...

her captivity...

...was tied to someone who actually existed.

A strange mix of relief and heartbreak punched through her chest.

All the pain she had bottled up for days, the humiliation, the hunger, the punishments, the fear, the loneliness, burst out of her in a sudden, uncontrollable wave.

Ivanna covered her face as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

Suddenly, uncontrollably, tears filled her eyes.

Vanessa's eyes widened.

"Oh! Hey-hey-wait, did I say something wrong? Why are you crying?"

But Ivanna was already sobbing, covering her face as her shoulders shook violently.

She couldn't stop.

She couldn't breathe.

She felt Vanessa kneel beside her.

Gently.

Cautiously.

Like someone comforting a wounded animal.

Vanessa touched her arm lightly.

"W–Wait! I didn't mean to scare you! Did I say something wrong? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"

But Ivanna couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Did you see what your brother did to me?" she choked out between sobs.

Vanessa blinked. "What... what did he do?"

"He is wicked!" Ivanna cried harder. "Eugene is so wicked... so cruel... so... so heartless!"

Vanessa's eyes snapped wider.

"...Eugene?" she repeated. "He told you his real name?"

Ivanna sniffed, confused. "What do you mean? Isn't Eugene his name?"

"Well... yes," Vanessa admitted. "But he never uses it. Everyone calls him the prince. He hates using his birth name. So if he told you... he must really consider you special."

"Special?" Ivanna scoffed bitterly. "He hates me. He kidnapped me. And now he's trying to kill me through that wicked woman!"

Vanessa's expression snapped from shock to horror.

"Wicked woman? Who-?"

"Lady Margaret!" Ivanna cried. "She's been punishing me every day! She doesn't care if I die!"

"Lady Margaret is HERE?!" Vanessa all but shouted.

The shock was genuine... borderline panicked.

"Yes!" Ivanna continued desperately. "She never stops punishing me. I'm always cleaning, kneeling, cooking... she doesn't let me rest! I feel like I'm dying!"

Vanessa ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"I know how terrifying she can be," she admitted, voice softening. "She trained me when I was younger. Military-style training. I thought I wasn't going to survive half the time."

Ivanna's tears slowed, replaced by exhaustion.

"Why would he bring her here? What did I do wrong? I know I'm not perfect... but is that enough to treat me like this?"

Vanessa sighed, helpless.

"I don't know why he's doing this. Eugene is strict but... he's also warm. Caring. If he married you, there must be a reason. Maybe he's trying to help you improve? I don't know..."

"I don't want to 'improve' anymore," Ivanna whispered, voice cracking. "I want to go home. I want my parents. Please help me... call them. I don't want to be married anymore."

She grabbed Vanessa's hands with trembling fingers.

"Please help me. Please."

Vanessa swallowed hard, torn.

"I-I don't know. Maybe I can talk to him fir-"

"No!" Ivanna cried. "Don't tell him! That giant woman will punish me again!"

Before Vanessa could respond, the door swung open.

Both girls jerked their heads toward the entrance.

Lady Margaret stepped in.

Tall.

Cold.

Intimidating.

Her expression, unreadable.

Her gaze flicked from Vanessa... to Ivanna... then back to Vanessa again.

"Vanessa, you are here."

Lady Margaret's voice cut through the room like a drawn blade, cold, sharp, unwelcoming.

Vanessa stiffened immediately.

Even as a fully grown woman, she felt that familiar instinctive chill crawl up her spine.

Some habits never left; Margaret's presence had always commanded fear... and submission.

"Y-Yes," Vanessa replied with forced calm, straightening her posture.

"Yeah, Madam Margaret... I actually just got here," Vanessa said, forcing a cheerful smile though her voice wavered slightly. "I wanted to come see my brother's wife."

She let out a dry, nervous laugh.

Lady Margaret's cold eyes narrowed.

"Of course. A necessary courtesy. I'm just wondering, does your brother know you're here?"

"I... I wanted to surprise him," Vanessa replied, timid as a child caught stealing biscuits.

"Mm." Margaret's tone sharpened. "Well, surprise over. You've overstayed your welcome. She..." she jerked her chin toward Ivanna "...needs to come prepare lunch."

"Can I just have one more minute with her, you know, to say, hello?" She asked jokingly.

Her tone was clipped. "She has chores to complete. You are distracting her."

"Oh. Chores." Vanessa forced another shaky laugh. "It's... good you're teaching her how to cook."

Then, more sincerely, "Madam Margaret, she's not feeling well today. Couldn't you let her rest, just this once?"

"She looks perfectly fine to me," Margaret said in that cold, clipped tone that could slice flesh.

"And no, she can't pass. You should leave now, and return after getting your brother's consent."

"With all due respect, Lady Margaret, she looks terribly sick. She needs rest, not chores."

Ivanna's heart thudded anxiously.

This was the first time someone had spoken for her since she arrived.

The first time someone stood between her and the iceberg called Margaret.

But Margaret didn't even blink.

"She is recovering," she said coldly. "A little sweat is normal. And her fatigue is a consequence of her indiscipline."

Vanessa's brows shot up. "Indiscipline? She looks like she might collapse!"

"That is because she attempted to escape," Margaret replied calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Ivanna's breath caught in humiliation.

Vanessa whipped toward her, eyes widening in disbelief, but not judgment.

"You tried to escape?" she whispered sympathetically.

Ivanna bowed her head silently, shame washing over her again.

Margaret continued mercilessly, "She received a punishment appropriate for her action. And she survived. Now...she must continue her training."

Vanessa's lips parted in outrage.

"Training? She's my brother's wife, not a soldier!"

"LEAVE!" Lady Margaret barked her command.

Vanessa swallowed.

"O-Okay. I'll come back later then."

She took a step toward the door, visibly intimidated.

But unexpectedly, Ivanna reached out and grabbed her hand tightly, clinging to her like a drowning victim clutching driftwood. Her grip trembled. Her eyes pleaded.

Vanessa froze... then squeezed her hand gently, giving her a soft but reassuring look.

A silent message: I'll try.

Ivanna reluctantly released her, shoulders heavy.

Vanessa had barely taken another step when Margaret's voice cracked through the air:

"Your brother wants you in his office. Immediately."

Vanessa's eyes flew wide open.

"Oh my God...Madam Margaret, why did you tell on me?" she squeaked, horrified.

Margaret simply shrugged, bored.

"This isn't fair!" Vanessa huffed indignantly

..then stomped her foot and rushed out, muttering complaints under her breath.

The moment she was gone, Margaret turned back to Ivanna with a glare sharp enough to stab.

"You think she can save you?" she sneered. "Don't deceive yourself. Get up. Lunch won't cook itself. Move your lazy butt to the kitchen."

"B-but... I don't feel well today... can I not cook...just today?"

"I said no." Her voice thundered like a gavel. "Don't get on my nerves. Get to the kitchen this instant."

Ivanna tried again, "B-but-"

"One more word and I'll double your punishment."

Ivanna stiffened, then released a long, defeated exhale.

She dragged herself up, legs shaky, and slowly trudged toward the kitchen like a prisoner being led back to her cell.

Vanessa sat stiffly in the large office, wringing her hands on her lap.

Her brother stood with his back to her, rigid, tense, his aura cold enough to chill the room.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked like thunder:

"Did I not tell you not to go to the castle?!"

Vanessa flinched.

"You said it was under reconstruction... I just wanted to see. You didn't tell me you were hiding your wife."

"Shut up!" he snapped, spinning around with eyes blazing. "I warned you, Vanessa! Stay out of my business! If I say no one goes to the house, then NO ONE goes there! Why must you poke your nose into everything?!"

He slammed a hand onto his desk.

"This minute...you're packing your bags and going back to California."

"What?! But I literally just got here!"

"I don't care. I don't give a damn. Get out...and don't ever show up unannounced again. Do you hear me?!"

"But Eugene..."

He froze.

Then inhaled sharply, as if she had stabbed him in the chest.

"What... did you just call me?" he growled.

Vanessa shrank back.

"But that's your name. I don't know why you hate it so much...your wife calls you by that name, so why can't I?"

His jaw tensed.

No, locked.

"Vanessa," he said dangerously low, "you're walking on a very thin line. I am already furious. Do not push me further. Get. Out."

"But big brother..." her voice softened into a pleading whisper. "Can't I stay a little longer? I really like your wife. She's so beautiful and kind. I really, really like her. Can't I stay with her? Please?"

He scoffed.

"Who? Ivanna?"

"Yes! Is that her name? It's beautiful. I didn't even get to ask because Lady Margaret was... terrifying."

Vanessa pouted, then frowned.

"She forced Ivanna to cook even though she's sick. Big brother... are you aware your wife isn't feeling well?"

Eugene's voice cut through the office like ice. "Are you done gossiping? Then leave. You got here five minutes ago and you know nothing about her, so spare me the lectures."

He turned back to the mountain of files on his desk, burying the interruption in paperwork.

"But, big brother-" Vanessa began, clutching at the frayed edge of the moment.

"See yourself to the door," he snapped without looking up. "I am far too busy for this."

Vanessa bristled, but the question she had been chewing on would not die. "Why are you hiding her? Why didn't anyone know you were married?"

Eugene's pen paused mid-ink. "I told you I don't have time for-" He closed his mouth. His tone hardened. "Do not get on my nerves."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, mortified and furious by turns, and moved for the door. Eugene watched her go for a beat, then added, voice low and dangerous, "And Vanessa... if you breathe a word of this to mother or father, you will regret it. This is my business. Stay out of it."

She slammed the door behind her and the sound echoed like an accusation. For a long second Eugene simply sat, the pen slipping from his fingers as thought crowded in like a storm.

Nicolas cleared his throat as he entered, the interruption drawing Eugene's attention away from an ache he hadn't expected.

"Everything all right, sir?" Nicolas asked, eyeing the tightness in his boss's jaw.

Eugene rubbed his temple, then exhaled. "She's sick, supposedly."

"It's possible," Nicolas said evenly. "Given who's overseeing her care, it would be a miracle if she weren't unwell."

A bitter laugh escaped Eugene. "Do you think I should see her? Take her to a hospital?" He paused, tasting the memory of the last time... the slap like a red-flagged wound in his memory. "No. I don't think that's wise. Last time I tried to intervene she slapped me. Imagine that."

Nicolas's eyes flicked, curious.

Eugene looked into the distance, something like wonder and irritation wrestling behind his gaze.

"Vanessa can be childish. And yet-" he cut himself off, an inscrutable half-smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "She called Ivanna 'nice'... and 'beautiful.'"

He spoke the words slowly, testing them aloud. "Beauty alone should have made her marketable. So why did every man refuse? Why do the rumors say no one wanted her? It doesn't add up. Her family has wealth, she's astonishing to look at...there must be more."

Nicolas stepped closer, report folder in hand. "Sir, our background checks show contradictory signals. There are rumors she deliberately disguises herself, turns up on dates unrecognizable. Some sources suggest she pushes men away, others say she's uninterested in marriage. It's inconsistent."

Eugene's expression sharpened, curiosity flaring into strategy. He tapped the pen against the wood, thoughts moving like gears. "Perhaps she's deliberately repellent. Or waiting for someone. Perhaps a lover or something. Or... maybe there's something else we don't know. People hide the strangest truths. You know like lesbianism for instance?"

"Am not so sure of that." Nicolas answered truthfully.

He leaned forward, the decision settling like iron. "Okay then... I want everything on Ivanna.

Her social history. Past acquaintances, lovers, friends, every message, every invitation, every photograph. Check school records, social feeds, travel logs. Find every footstep she's taken for the last five years. Cross-reference everything. If she's hiding anything, I want it uncovered."

Nicolas inclined his head. "Right away, sir."

"And run it quietly," Eugene added, voice low and final. "No leaks. If this marriage is a problem, I will handle the consequences. If it's a puzzle... solve it."

Nicolas had barely reached the door when Eugene's voice stopped him again, low, uncertain, and unlike anything he'd heard from the prince.

"Nicolas... come here a moment."

Nicolas turned, wary. Eugene wasn't looking at him; he was staring at the floor, fingers clenched on the edge of the desk as though steadying something inside himself.

"Is it possible," Eugene began slowly, "that Lady Margaret might actually kill her? For real. Did I go too far involving... extreme methods? Because this entire conflict is between me and her parents. Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have dragged her into it. Should I just let her go?"

The question hung in the air, fragile and foreign coming from him.

Nicolas folded his hands behind his back. "Sir... according to the strategy drafted to handle the Sean family, Ivanna is our leverage. If Plan A fails, she becomes Plan B. The Sean family is not a group we can topple easily. We need something that forces their hand."

Eugene didn't move, so Nicolas pressed on.

"And besides... you said yourself you'd use her as a..." he cleared his throat, choosing the word carefully, "...distraction... you know, like a plaything, while we execute our main objectives."

"I said that?" Eugene's head snapped up, confusion...then disbelief...then discomfort flashing across his face.

"That doesn't sound like me." He rubbed his palm over his chest as though something there unnerved him.

"And besides... that girl doesn't look to me like someone anyone can toy with just like that. She is as stubborn as a goat. Even Lady Margaret hasn't broken her spirit, and Margaret breaks grown men."

He hesitated, expression tightening.

"She's just a girl, and yet... I can't figure it out."

Another pause. "I don't like how this feels. Putting her through pain..." He stopped, jaw tense. "It's making me restless. As if something in me is... revolting against it."

Nicolas blinked, this was new.

Eugene dragged a hand through his hair, restless. "You know I'm not a monster, Nicolas. What her parents did... what they cost me...it was unforgivable. I want them to experience the same helplessness. That is justice."

His voice softened, unexpectedly raw.

"But Ivanna... she's innocent. And she's also their softest spot. Hurting her hurts them. So my path should be clear... but..." He broke off and stood abruptly. "I don't know. I just don't know."

He took two steps forward but stopped again, conflicted.

"I think... I need to see her. Vanessa said she wasn't doing well. Maybe I should check."

Nicolas froze. Something clicked in his mind like falling dominoes.

"Sir..." he said cautiously, "forgive my boldness but... are you, by any chance... falling for Miss Ivanna?"

Eugene spun around so fast it startled even himself.

"Falling? Hell. No." His denial was loud, too loud. "How could you even say that? She is the daughter of the people who cost me the most PAIN! She is not my type. Not at all."

He flailed for logic, then added, almost angrily..."Yes, she is beautiful, obviously, but life is more than a pretty face and..." he swallowed, voice cracking for a fraction of a second, "...and maybe a nice body."

Nicolas's brow lifted. "It's only that you speak... differently when the topic concerns her."

"I DO NOT like her," Eugene snapped, color rising in his neck as he walked back to his seat and grabbed a document. "Daughter of my enemy? That's ridiculous. Leave."

Nicolas bowed slightly and exited, the door shutting softly behind him.

For a moment, the office was silent, heavy.

Then Eugene dropped the folder he'd been pretending to read. His posture crumpled ever so slightly, his expression twisting into a grimace, equal parts frustration, fear, and something dangerously close to... yearning.

He whispered to the empty room.

"What the hell was that?"

After Nicolas exit... Eugene sat a moment longer, alone with an unfamiliar thought: he was unexpectedly, uncomfortably invested. He pushed it away and rose, straightening his jacket, the mask of command sliding back into place.

Outside, the world went on, but in the castle, new investigations had already been set in motion.