Chapter 132: Morning in Baye Mansion
Three days.
That’s how long Ophelia had been in the southern guest wing, long enough to memorize the wallpaper pattern, the sound of the fountain from the inner courtyard, and the way the staff avoided eye contact like she carried something contagious.
She wasn’t confined. No one had locked a door or issued a threat. But no one had told her anything either. She wasn’t welcome. She was tolerated.
And still, she waited.
Every morning she got up early, braided her hair neatly, applied just enough concealer to look composed without seeming vain, and waited for someone to give her a reason to be here, other than humiliation. But no summons came. No trial. No audience. No one even spoke her name. She’d tried asking once if she could see Lucas. The maid hadn’t even flinched. She just said the Duchess had not permitted it and closed the door behind her like a final breath.
And now, on the fourth morning, Ophelia stood again at the edge of the breakfast salon like a bad memory.
Duchess Serathine was already seated, dressed in a deep gray blouse with no embellishment, no jewelry. Just sleeves rolled twice, a knife resting beside her toast, and a tablet beside her untouched coffee. She looked like someone who had never been surprised by anything in her life.
Ophelia hovered.
Serathine didn’t look up. "You may sit. You may eat. Neither will make you important."
Ophelia moved stiffly toward the seat closest to the end of the table. The chair was too low. The sun didn’t reach her from this angle. The coffee had already cooled. She sat without speaking.
Serathine read something on the tablet. Then she paused.
Just for a breath.