An Unexpected Visit

A week had passed since Duke Mathias had returned from his long journey, yet the atmosphere in the grand estate remained as cold and unyielding as ever. Olivia immersed herself in her usual work alongside Isabella, her trusted assistant, arranging meetings and managing documents, as though she was trying to forget his presence entirely. Meanwhile, the Duke received meticulous reports of her every move—not out of curiosity or concern but as part of the control he was so accustomed to wielding.

Despite the subtle changes in her behavior since his return, he paid no heed to them. Their relationship had long ceased to resemble a marriage. They ate separately, slept in different rooms, and barely exchanged words. The grand halls of the estate mirrored the frosty distance between them, as though their union was nothing more than a business arrangement.

But the monotony of their estrangement was disrupted by an unexpected letter delivered to the Duke's study that morning. The distinct seal of the imperial family on the envelope left no room for doubt about its importance. With practiced elegance, Mathias broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The words within were written in a familiar, teasing tone:

"Mathias, you scoundrel, why didn't you tell me you were back? Is this how friends treat each other? I'll be visiting you this evening, so prepare yourself!"

A rare smile crept across his lips—one tinged with both amusement and exasperation. Turning to his head butler, who stood attentively by, he issued a calm but firm command:

"Prepare a banquet befitting His Highness, the Crown Prince. He will be joining us tonight."

The butler's composure faltered momentarily before he nodded, replying with slight unease:

"Of course, Your Grace. I assure you everything will be perfect."

As the butler hurried away to oversee preparations, Mathias suddenly realized he hadn't informed Olivia of their imminent guest. He glanced upward at the high ceiling as if chiding himself for the oversight, then decided to deliver the news to her personally.

In her private chambers, Olivia indulged in a rare moment of tranquility. She lounged in her warm bath, her head resting against the edge as steam curled around her. In one hand, she held a glass of red wine, savoring the rich aroma as though it could ward off the harshness of her reality. Meanwhile, her maid, Kyra, busied herself organizing the evening's attire on the bed. The serene silence was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Olivia called, her voice softened by relaxation.

"It's me."

Kyra immediately recognized the voice and hurried to the door, bowing as she opened it.

"Your Grace, the lady is currently bathing," she informed him with a respectful tone.

Mathias cast a brief glance toward the bathroom door before returning his gaze to the maid.

"Leave us. I need to speak with her," he said curtly.

Kyra bowed again and departed without question.

Mathias walked over to the sofa near the fireplace and seated himself with a calm but imposing air. Resting his chin on his hand, he waited. The minutes stretched on until Olivia finally emerged from the bathroom.

She appeared almost ethereal, clad in a loosely tied bathrobe that revealed one shoulder entirely. Her damp hair clung to her skin, droplets tracing lazy paths down her neck. In her hand, she carried her half-full wine glass. Her eyes were half-closed, still adjusting to the light, and she seemed oblivious to his presence. Without a glance, she sank into the nearest chair and called out:

"Kyra, dry my hair and pour me another glass of wine."

But Kyra wasn't there. It was Mathias who now stood, silently observing her. He picked up a towel that Kyra had left prepared and approached her from behind. Gently, yet with an unfamiliar awkwardness, he began drying her hair.

Olivia remained motionless at first, assuming it was her maid.

"Kyra, where's the wine I asked for?" she murmured.

"It's not Kyra," Mathias replied, his tone steady but firm. "And there will be no more wine tonight. The Crown Prince is visiting, and I won't have you greeting him inebriated."

Her eyes shot open, and she turned to the mirror in front of her. Reflected in its glass was not her maid but Mathias, standing behind her with his piercing blue eyes fixed on her. Shock rippled through her body, and the wine glass slipped from her fingers. Before it could shatter, Mathias caught it deftly, his reflexes swift and deliberate.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice touched with genuine concern.

"How long have you been here?" she managed, her voice trembling slightly.

His lips curled into a wry smile. "Instead of worrying about that, you should be more concerned about hurting yourself."

She hesitated before replying softly, "I'm fine."

"Good. I need you to be," he said simply. "As I mentioned, the Crown Prince will be here tonight, and we need to welcome him properly."

"So that's why you came," she said coldly, her gaze hardening.

"Excuse me?" he replied, his brows furrowing.

"Nothing. I'll prepare to greet him. You may leave," she said dismissively.

Mathias lingered for a moment, as though he wanted to say more, but ultimately turned and exited the room.

By evening, the estate had transformed into a dazzling display of elegance, its halls illuminated by the glow of crystal chandeliers. Mathias and Olivia stood side by side at the grand entrance, awaiting their guest.

When the Crown Prince, Kyle, arrived, his presence radiated an aura of authority mingled with youthful energy. His face broke into a grin as he spotted Mathias, and without hesitation, he pulled him into a warm embrace.

"Mathias, old friend! I've missed you. It's been too long," Kyle exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm.

Olivia observed them from a distance, her expression unreadable. Kyle wasn't just the Crown Prince—he was her half-brother. Their mother, once divorced from Olivia's father, had remarried the Emperor and borne Kyle. Yet, despite their shared blood, there was a formality to his demeanor toward her that stung more than she cared to admit.

"Your Grace," he greeted her politely, his words devoid of familial warmth. "How are you?"

"I'm well," she replied coolly. "Shall we proceed to the dining hall?"

"Yes, of course," Kyle agreed with a slight bow, and the trio moved toward the grand feast awaiting them.

Though the evening seemed poised to play out with all the elegance and decorum expected of royalty, unspoken tensions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill into the gilded perfection of the night.