43. Lady Sachel

The dark room was dimly lit by a single chandelier, its golden light casting long shadows across the expensive marble floor. Lady Sachel sat on a velvet armchair, her hands gripping the armrests tightly as she stared across the room. Her perfectly poised composure was cracking. Her eyes were wild, and her lips, usually painted in a perfect shade of red, quivered with unease.

Across from her, a man stood near the window, his face shrouded in darkness. His tall figure was intimidating, exuding a quiet power that unnerved even someone as calculated as Lady Sachel. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture straight and unyielding, as he observed the city skyline from behind the heavy drapes.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Lady Sachel muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible. "Everything we worked for, everything you promised me—it's all falling apart."