Ungrateful (Livia)

"Despises?" Livia doesn't even know what to think by this point.

Gertrude hesitates before continuing in a whisper. "The Young Master has destroyed all of her momentos, including her photographs and diaries. He cannot even bear to mention her name." 

"B-b-but." 

The head maid takes a step back. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but this is all I can tell you," she says with a firmness that Livia knows she cannot move. 

"Alright, I understand. Thank you, Gertrude. I won't ask more." 

As Gertrude turns to take her leave, Livia is reminded of one thing. She is the one who married into the household. The servants, especially those who have been around for a long time, are loyal, but they are loyal to the Vale family, not her. 

She is Livia Astor, not Livia Vale. Even if she had not insisted on keeping her maiden name, she would have still been an outsider. Thinking back, she almost wants to laugh at the naïve child she was. She once believed that Raylen loved her so much that she could negotiate with him, the heir of a billionaire, on equal grounds.

Fool. Poor fool.

Now the scales have fallen from her eyes, but she cannot tell if it is a curse or blessing.

Perhaps ignorance is indeed bliss.

The walk back to her room seems longer than usual. 

What are Raylen and the reporter talking about? The rational part of Livia's brain tells her that Raylen must be negotiating some sort of settlement and non-disclosure agreement to prevent Janus from cooperating with tabloid newspapers and magazines. 

The irrational part of her brain reminds her that she has just left her husband with a reporter who resembles Delaney—a woman he both seems to love and hate. 

That only worries Livia more. The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Hate and love are simply two sides of the same coin. 

Raylen loving and hating Delaney is a hundred times worse than him simply loving her. 

Livia knows enough about the human heart to ascertain that. 

Her only consolation is that Raylen's favourite lawyer and childhood friend, Kai Blackwood, is surely present at the meeting as well. 

At the very least, she has not left her soon-to-be ex-husband alone with the other woman.

Besides, why should she care about who Raylen interacts with? Their familial bond is about to be broken permanently. 

As she sinks into her bed for the fourth time tonight, she starts to wallow in self-pity. 

Raylen's apparent generosity only wounds her more. How can a man agree so easily to a divorce unless he is out of love with his wife? In this case, he may have never loved her at all. 

After birthing his only two children, he does not even care enough to try to win her back. 

As she tries to empty her mind of things she cannot change, she hears a few knocks. 

"Madam, it's me, Elaine." Her personal maid's voice sounds uncharacteristically tense. 

Livia sits up, exhausted. "Come in. What is this about?" 

Elaine opens the door slightly. Gone is her usual toothy smile. Instead, she looks nervous. Very nervous. 

"Madam, the Master wants to see you."

"Now?" Livia glances at the clock beside her bed. It is four in the morning. 

"Yes, he's very insistent that you come as soon as possible." Elaine's voice is as anxious as her expression. 

"Alright. Give me some time to change into something more presentable," Livia replies. 

"Yes, Madam," answers the young maid before shutting the door quietly.

Livia wonders what has possessed her father-in-law, the older Mr Vale, to demand a meeting with her at this hour. 

Regardless, she knows to pick her battles. Henry Vale has only grown crankier with age. Although he has retired and given his elder son partial control of his companies, everyone knows he is still the real head of the household. 

Raylen rarely defies him, but the two men's relationship is cordial at best. Livia does not know much, but from what she has been able to gather, Raylen did not have a happy childhood. 

She slips out of a pale nightgown and into a tailored dress suit before tying her flaming red hair into a tight bun. 

Henry has an issue with loose hair—something about loose hair and looser morals. It is as absurd as it is backwards, but Livia knows how to pick her battles.

There is nothing to gain from going against her billionaire father-in-law and much to lose.

"Elaine, I'm ready," she calls out as she heads towards the door, which opens as if by itself.

"Madam," begins Elaine when they are at the east wing where the Master's living quarters are, "the elder Mr Vale is furious." 

"Furious? At me?" 

"Y-y-yes." 

She does not say more, and Livia does not press her. After all, Henry Vale's anger would be directed at more people if he realised someone had tipped his target off. 

Such is the man he is. 

Standing before the formidable door of bronze, marble, and ebony, Livia takes a deep breath and prepares a genial smile before knocking thrice. "Father, I am here."

A servant inside opens the door and she walks in to see the elder Mr Vale sitting beside the fireplace, wrapped in his favourite smoking jacket of maroon silk velvet, and shaking with anger. 

His hands are gripping his cane so hard that his knuckles have turned white.

Livia drops her smile. 

"I," Henry declares in a voice raspy from decades of smoking, "am no father of yours, you ungrateful cunt."