Chapter 90: She Was From Hades
The temperature in the room seemed to drop at Nina’s question. The tea sitting between them continued to release thin wisps of steam, but the warmth no longer reached her. It felt as though the air itself had grown colder, pressing against her skin until even the crackling fire in the hearth struggled to chase it away.
Jonathan’s back stiffened. A muscle ticked along his jaw. His gaze slipped past her shoulder, settling on the wall behind her instead of meeting her eyes.
Nina watched him in silence. She knew that look; she had seen it countless times growing up. Every birthday she gathered enough courage to ask about her mother. Every lonely night she wondered why no one looked at her the way other children were loved. Every single time... he wore that same expression. The one that said the conversation was already over before it had even begun.
"Who was she?" Her voice barely rose above the crackling fire. She straightened slowly in her chair, refusing to let him escape this time. "What was her name?"
He did not answer. Each passing second scraped across her nerves. Nina didn’t rush him. She had spent her entire life waiting for this answer; another minute wouldn’t break her.
Jonathan drew in a slow breath. His lips parted, then closed again. His fingers twitched against his knee before becoming still. Only after another long stretch of silence did he finally look at her.
"Who your mother was is not important," his voice was flat. "She was a servant who died giving birth to you." He paused only briefly. "That is all you need to know."
For a long moment, Nina simply stared at him. Her fingers slowly curled around the carved wooden armrest beneath her.
"You’ve been saying that since I was born." She looked away for only a second, swallowing the bitterness climbing her throat. "Every time I asked about my mother, you gave me the same flimsy excuse."
She looked back at him. "I think I deserve to know about the only parent who cared enough to birth me."
Jonathan shifted slightly in his chair at her words. His brows drew together.
"You were never a father to me; at the very least, let me know who my mother was." Her voice broke at the end.
Jonathan lowered his head. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and the soft whistle of the wind slipping through the gap in the open window. When he finally raised his head again, his eyes met hers for only a fleeting moment before drifting away.
"If I tell you, will you let your sister go?"
Nina stared at him. For a heartbeat, the words refused to make sense. They floated between them, absurd and unreal, before finally sinking in.
"...What?"
Jonathan lowered his eyes to his clasped hands. His fingers tightened until his knuckles turned pale. "Nina... child."
The unfamiliar endearment scraped against her ears.
"I know we haven’t been the parents you deserved." His voice was quieter now. "We treated you badly, and I never became the father you needed. For that, I am truly sorry."
Nina felt her chest tighten painfully as his words reached her. He was looking at her now, an irritation in his brows, as though she were extremely vile and wicked.
"But let Sabrina go. Don’t punish her for my crimes." He paused, searching her face. "She’s a noble." His voice rose with disbelief. "How can you make her work amongst servants? You know how fragile she is. If she does such heavy work, she might fall ill."
The room suddenly felt unbearably small. Then, a dry, humorless laugh escaped her lips. She pressed two fingers against her mouth.
"So she’s fragile." The words rolled off her tongue with quiet disbelief as she nodded once. "And I never was?" A bitter smile curved her lips.
Jonathan shifted in his seat. "That’s not what I—"
"I understand." Nina cut him off before he could finish.
She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a brief moment before closing her eyes. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was bleak, devoid of emotion.
"If you truly feel even the slightest remorse for what you did," she looked directly at him, "you would answer my question, Father." She paused, raising a brow. "That is if you want Sabrina to return to you in one piece."
Her voice was soft. Deadly soft.
She watched dread flicker across Jonathan’s face. His jaw tightened, and then he straightened.
"Her name was Isabelle."
Everything inside Nina went still. Isabelle. Nina repeated it silently, afraid it might slip away if she didn’t.
Jonathan continued. "Isabelle Wilde."
Nina didn’t interrupt him.
"She was from Hades."
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sending a shower of sparks dancing up the chimney.
Isabelle Wilde. From Hades.
Nina rolled the name over in her mind, committing every syllable to memory. For years, her mother had been a faceless shadow—a woman everyone spoke about only in whispers before abruptly changing the subject whenever Nina entered the room. Now... she finally had something. A name. Her mother’s name.
Nina drew in a careful breath. "Isabelle..." The name left her lips so quietly she almost didn’t hear it herself.
She looked back at Jonathan. "Who was she?" Her voice trembled despite her efforts to steady it. "Where did you meet? What happened between the two of you? Why did no one ever speak about her?"
Question after question crowded her throat.
Jonathan’s chair scraped against the floor. He stood so abruptly that Nina instinctively straightened.
"That is all I can tell you." His voice was clipped as he turned away from her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, more quietly, he added, "I am not allowed to say anything else."
Nina frowned. The words echoed in her head. Not allowed? Her heartbeat quickened. She took a step toward him.
"What do you mean..." Her brows knitted together. "...you’re not allowed?"
Jonathan remained facing the door. His shoulders rose and fell with one slow breath.
"By whom?" The question came out sharper this time. "Father."
Jonathan slowly turned his head. His eyes met hers only briefly. "Don’t go looking for answers you don’t want to find, Nina."
Her breath caught. Something about the way he said it sent a chill creeping down her spine. It was not a warning born of anger; it was a warning born of fear.
Her pulse quickened. "Do you know something?" She searched his face desperately. "What is it? Tell me."
He shook his head once. "I cannot tell you even if I wanted to," he said. "My tongue is tied."
Nina felt frustration surge through her. "What do you mean? I cannot understand you unless you—"
"If that is all, Luna, I would like to take my leave."
Nina’s words stopped on her tongue as she gazed at his back, and then she swallowed the rest of her words. "That would be all. You may leave."
Jonathan remained where he was for another heartbeat, then, without another word, he opened the door and stepped outside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence swallowed the room.
Nina didn’t move. Her eyes remained fixed on nothing.
Isabelle.
For years, her mother had been nothing more than a shadow, a question everyone refused to answer. Now she had a name. Whatever her father was trying to hide, she was going to find it.
"Moreen!" Her voice carried through the quiet room.
The door opened almost immediately, and Moreen stepped inside and bowed. "Yes, Luna?"
Nina lifted her eyes. "Send for Lady Emory. I want to see her."
A beat passed.
"Now."