CHAPTER1: LAST TEARS (1)

"His Grace!! They must be the retinue of Duke Ansel, infiltrating the kingdom in secret," The maid announced in a hushed tone.

"My husband!" Coretta's heart leaped with excitement. She couldn't help but feel a sense of privilege to be present there at that moment.

She took a discreet survey of the group of masked men who were following closely behind Duke Ansel Capet Loughty, the powerful Duke of Oldenburg, as they infiltrated Heatherton's kingdom in a covert operation.

The men wore antiquated disguises that made them almost unrecognizable. Coretta could tell that they were well-trained and experienced in their trade.

The Duke's presence was the epitome of power, and Coretta felt a sense of admiration and respect for him. She knew that he was a man of great influence and had a reputation for being a shrewd negotiator.

As she stood at the entrance of the mansion, she was greeted by the overwhelming scent of exotic flowers that had been carefully arranged to adorn the area.

The grandeur of the four imposing reddish pillars that surrounded her made her feel small and insignificant in comparison.

As she observed the Duke, she couldn't help but recall the heated argument they had earlier about her health. Duke Ansel had expressed his anger over how harshly he had spoken to her about her lack of understanding.

She knew that he only wanted the best for her, but at times, his words could be too harsh. Despite this, she found herself lost in his sapphire-blue eyes, with their gold pupils, feeling her heart sink as she saw the deep pain and sorrow that lay hidden behind his alluring gaze.

Only she knew the tales of destruction and despair that lay hidden within the Duke, a forlorn wasteland of solitude.

Despite the tempestuous emotions between them, Coretta could not ignore the intense longing she felt for the man she cherished so deeply.

"Lady Coretta, the physician is waiting. We must not keep him waiting, especially given the impending arrival of the Duke's child," Blythe, Coretta's trusted maid, interjected, breaking the heavy atmosphere between the couple.

Duke Ansel regarded Coretta with an expression of disapproval. His eyes betrayed a sense of repugnance towards her. His smirk held a hint of malevolence as if she were nothing but a mere trinket to be played with and manipulated at his will.

Coretta followed her maid to the physician's inn in silence, her mind in turmoil.

She tried to suppress the pain that was gnawing at her insides, but it was a fruitless effort. As she walked, she kept her head down, hiding her face from the world, and her shoulders straight, maintaining the poise of a lady of royal status. It was a façade, a mask to conceal the emotional turmoil within her.

Once again, her husband had ignored her, and the agony she felt was unbearable. The man she had been married to and loved for over five years seemed to be indifferent towards the child growing inside of her.

His coldness had been akin to that of an enraged polar bear, and Coretta detested the inappropriate and hostile glares he gave her.

She couldn't help but think about how different things used to be. They had once been deeply in love, and she had felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

But now, she was trapped in a loveless marriage, and the only thing that tied them together was a child she wasn't sure her husband even wanted.

The mere thought of her child being used as a pawn in his corrupt royal treaty made her feel sick and dizzy. She couldn't bear the thought of her innocent child being caught up in the political machinations of her husband.

In this loveless relationship, she was the victim, forced to play the role of the villain in everyone's eyes. She didn't want her child to follow the same pattern.

The bitterness of the situation was overwhelming, and she longed for a way to escape this nightmare.

As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder how things had gone so wrong. She loved her husband, but it seemed like he didn't love her back. The pain of his indifference was almost too much to bear, and she wished she could just disappear. But she knew that wasn't an option. She had to be strong for her child, even if it meant putting her desires aside.

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"Take her away and lock her up in the dungeon. She must never see the light of day again! Bind her arms and legs!" the Count bellowed, his anger evident in his tone.

"But my Lord, she is but a child. Please consider reducing her punishment," protested a member of the small entourage present in the room.

"A child?! How could a child stab her own sister's face? That's attempted murder!" retorted the Count, his eyes blazing with fury.

Coretta shook her head frantically, muttering quietly to herself as she struggled to make sense of what was happening. Desperate for comfort, she reached out to her father, only to be pushed away and slammed into the wall like a discarded piece of rubbish. She felt a sharp pain on her cheek, and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.

A crimson hue colored her cheeks, the physical mark of her father's wrath.

"This is unfair! I did no such thing," she cried, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I swear I didn't do it, Father. My sister is lying. She tried to hurt me, and I only acted in self-defense," she spoke through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of courage and determination she had left.

Inside her father's chambers, there were no more than five people present - the steward, Coretta's nursemaid, Miss Rosetta, as well as her stepmother Countess Amelia Bourbon Villan, and her two siblings.

Countess Amelia's face bore a look of guilt as she gazed upon the wretched child sprawled on the frigid ground. However, her worry quickly dissipated into a wry smile, pretending to be on the side of the small girl in order to deceive her husband into thinking she cared for her when in truth she did not.

"My Lord, she is innocent of all wrongdoing!! I can vouch for her pure heart," implored Miss Rosetta, her heart writhing with anguish at the injustice.

"Take her away. She is nothing but a stain on this family," Count Philip pronounced his final judgment.

"I-I apologize profusely for my selfish error. I beg for your righteous forgiveness, Your Grace," uttered young Coretta, who had understood the extent of her father's affection, or rather the lack thereof, towards her. She was the black sheep of the family, deemed unworthy and ineffectual in every way. Giving up on defending herself, the child knelt apologetically on the ground, spent and saddened by these unfair circumstances. It was not the first, second, or even third time she had been betrayed by those she trusted.

Despite everything, she recognized that to her family members, she was only a pawn in their games.

"Serves her right!" spat Atlas, the Count's eldest son, with flames of anger dancing in his eyes. His reputation as a cold-hearted knight was not unfounded as he callously flung Coretta from the ground and gave her a withering glance.

However, Coretta maintained her lowered stance as they forcibly dragged her out of her father's chambers. That day, the enmity in her heart burned fiercely, replacing any remnants of longing she may have had for love.

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"She must be cursed."

"I pity her soul."

"How unfortunate!"

"She is a hapless victim."

Under the bright rays of sunlight in the sky, a young lady was bound to a mahogany altar, drained by the incessant gossip around her. Standing next to the lady were two burly men, each holding a twisted cane fashioned from branches. Shreds of tattered fabric littered the ground, and the smell of blood filled the air.

This young lady was none other than Coretta.

"My Lord, have mercy on this child, I implore you. She requires urgent care," pleaded Coretta's nursemaid, Miss Rosetta, on behalf of the young lady. She added softly, "Not today of all days, My Lord. I am most certain that she had nothing to do with the pilfering of the jewels. I was with her throughout the celebrations. Please, show your benevolent mercy!" She curtsied in hopes that the Count would halt the cruel beating, which was already too much and intolerable for anyone to endure.

However, an unbearable hiss escaped from the Count's lips as he sank into his chair, ignoring the pleas of all present.

Laid out like a piece of meat on the thick wooden plank, Coretta raised her head ever so slightly and made eye contact with her father. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw his cold, indifferent gaze. Turning away, she averted her eyes to the fair-haired girl next to her father. Instantly, a spark of anger lit up an unbreakable fire in her heart as she noticed the faint, cruel smirk on the girl's delicate face. That person was the root of all her suffering.

She took away her father's affections and everything Coretta held dear. She robbed her of peace of mind. Even on her birthday celebration, she falsely accused Coretta of theft.

Coretta pondered why death had not stopped by her door on the same day that it took away her beloved mother. The night when the wind blew lonely, and they were encased in her mother's dark chambers. Her mother clutched her chest in agony and watched with eyes filled with unbearable pain as the doors to death slowly opened, enveloping her in its embrace.

Not only did they rob her mother of her soul, but of Coretta's as well. She pleaded with them, begging for the one person in her life whom she adored to be spared from the fate that awaited her. She even offered a gift of sanctuary on her birthday - which just happened to fall on the same day - but they callously drove them both away, utterly insensitive to the fragility of her heart. 

Did she, in some past life, deserve such wretched treatment?

Were clipped wings the norm, frequent and daily insults a rightful occurrence, and justified the desire to never have been born?

Did they truly take pleasure in her suffering, rejoicing in her misery and destroying the peace of her walls?

Indeed, a deep sense of regret made her shudder, causing her to feel sorry not only for herself but also for her nursemaid, one of the few people in her life who had ever treated her as a proper human being. 

Overcome by emotion, she had been oblivious to the continued beating, each cane tearing her skin like two logs of wood tipped with thorny nails. And then she could bear it no longer. Her cries became a scream that seemed to rend her throat open, her eyes bulging from her pain. But death lingered for what seemed like forever.

"My Lord, please. She will die if this persists. Please have mercy. Please. Coretta! Please, my Lord." Miss Rosetta wept profusely as tears cascaded down her face. Her aged heart ached for the girl who had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday.

"Ahhhh!!" Coretta's scream increased. Her throat slithered wide open in discomfort, and her eyes bulged open. 

"Ah," She gasped and prayed death would eventually take her way. It was quite plausible, but it never did, not until she lost her voice as well as her consciousness before her father decreed the beating stopped.

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"Thou shalt wed the Duke Ansel Loughty of Oldenburg and bear his progeny. It is my command," decreed Count Philip.

Coretta, taken aback, responded, "But I thought Lucille had already agreed to wed the Duke. Father, I implore thee, I cannot..." She hesitated for a moment before arguing, but her father seemed blinded by his fury, stoking the flames of the inferno that was their current situation. Coretta couldn't help but wonder if he was truly her biological father.

"Be warned, this is not a request but a decree. Obey my order and leave this abode immediately!" Count Philip roared in a fit of rage. He viciously hurled the letter he held across the room, the sinews of his neck bulging in fury as he glared at his daughter, leaving no room for further discussion.

Coretta's body trembled with apprehension as an intense heat burned within her. She had only recently reached adulthood, and the man she had known as her father seemed willing to consign her to another of his ilk: a beastly and power-hungry Duke. Did he truly harbor such malice towards her?

"I refuse to be treated as a puppet," she whispered, the sadness in her voice palpable. Coretta had had enough of their inequality, and her frustration sought an outlet.

"Didst thou dare to speak back to me? Thou art an ungrateful child who is worth naught! I have done everything for thee, canst thou not see?" Count Philip barked, his dark mane swaying and his cheeks contorting with anger.

Incensed, Coretta scoffed in defiance. "Thou hast done naught but cause me pain, Father. I am merely a pawn in thine eyes, to be used as thou sees fit."

That was the end of her obedience.

Several months later, Coretta married Duke Ansel Loughty, a respected man in the Kingdom of Heatherton. Though widely known for his good looks, his opinionated and haughty beliefs were cruel and had led every other woman to refuse his hand in marriage, except the Estate of Villan.

In the initial stage of their marriage, Coretta dismissed the rumors of her husband's brutality, as he showered her with nothing but love. It was through his devoted affection that she bore his child. It was only with the appearance of a temptress, a deceitful woman, that Coretta began to see the truth of her husband's character.

"What will become of our child if we divorce?" she implored, heartbroken by his sudden cruel behavior.

"The child will have a father, but no longer a mother," Duke Ansel spat with indignation. Despite her husband's change in demeanor, Coretta still loved him deeply.

She had borne the fruit of their youthful love and was now stoic and strong, suppressing the agony within her.

Her sole focus was now the well-being of her child, and she decided not to succumb to despair, but to endure the heartbreak like a battle-scarred soldier, for that was her strategy for survival.