Chapter 353: Regret and Mocking Rain
The weight of her fury, her fear, came crashing down on both men. Alaric opened his mouth to respond, but for once, no words came.
Lucius’s jaw ticked, his knuckles white against the edge of the desk. "We search the castle," he ordered, his voice colder than before. "Every corridor, every hall. She couldn’t have gone far without someone seeing her."
Alaric nodded stiffly. "I’ll check the gardens and the eastern wing."
"And I’m going to the guards," Salviana snapped. "Someone must have seen her leave with all her things."
She turned on her heel, but not before one last glance at Jean’s empty wardrobe. It was a quiet betrayal — the kind that burned slow and deep.
And with that, they scattered into the castle, the echo of Jean’s absence ringing louder than words ever could.
With a quiet snap, Lucius opened his black umbrella, the fabric unfurling like a dark wing. Without a word, he turned on his heel and stepped through the doorway, the soft patter of rain swallowing the sound of his departure.
The room was silent again. Too silent.
Salviana’s gaze lingered on the empty threshold for a moment longer than necessary, then drifted to her husband.
Alaric stood stiffly, his broad shoulders squared, but there was a slight tremor in his clenched jaw — a tension that didn’t come from anger, but from something heavier. Guilt.
She didn’t speak. Didn’t sigh. Didn’t frown.