Dear my beautiful daughter Elena, 

I was overjoyed to learn of your top marks at the academy in your recent letter. Your father is proud of you beyond words. I am sorry that my shortcomings have placed you and your mother in such a difficult situation, but I, too, hopefully soon, will have good news to share. 

I miss you both dearly and hope we can reunite soon. 

Love always, 
Your father, Hurbert 

Catherine had been over the moon when Elena returned one evening, clutching the results from her midterm ranking. They embraced with excitement, the pride shared between mother and daughter filling the room. 

As Catherine watched Elena read her father’s letter, a surge of emotion washed over her. Despite everything they had endured, Elena had found the strength to excel. The thought filled Catherine’s heart with both pride and gratitude, knowing that the trials they had faced hadn’t diminished her daughter’s spirit. 

On the other hand, Sebastian had done exactly what was expected of him, retaining his top spot among the third-year students for the midterm exams. What made it even more special was that the release of the rankings coincided with his birthday. For the past two years, Madeline had hosted a grand birthday dinner for him, inviting close and influential nobles to celebrate. 

However, upon learning that Catherine’s daughter, Elena, had claimed the top spot in her year, Madeline saw an opportunity. Perhaps this could be her chance to reach out to Catherine once again, hoping to finally mend their strained past. 

As Madeline finalized the guest list for Sebastian’s upcoming birthday, she paused, her hand hovering over the parchment. She still wasn’t sure if inviting the Sinclairs was the right decision.  

It would certainly be odd to invite other top students and their families, as she had done in previous years, and not include Elena and her mother. Yet, the thought of a faceoff with Catherine still unsettled her. 

Just then, Sebastian entered the room. Poppy had met him at the door as he arrived, letting him know the duchess wished to see him. 

“Mother, you wanted to see me?” he asked, settling into the opposite sofa. His eyes flicked to the scattered papers on the table—preparations for yet another birthday banquet. 

“Perfect timing, Sebastian. Is there anyone you’d like to invite this year?” Madeline asked, passing him the guest list. He barely glanced at it, knowing these events were far from personal. They were about appearances, connections—duties he had grown used to, but never fully embraced. 

If he had his way, he’d spend his birthday quietly, without all the pomp and the exhausting necessity of wearing a mask for society. 

“Don’t forget Professor Frowde,” Sebastian added with a casual toss of his hair. “You know how important he is to us.” 

But then, as he flipped to the third page, his hand froze. Elena? Why is she here? His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. His mother always invited top students, but the Sinclairs? He couldn’t help but question her reasoning. 

Madeline, sensing his hesitation, glanced up. “Something wrong, dear?” 

“Mother...” he began, more cautiously now. “Why are you inviting the Sinclairs?” His gaze fixed on her, quietly demanding an explanation. 

Madeline’s heartbeat quickened for a moment. Does he know? She quickly pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t. Collecting herself, she replied smoothly, “She’s the top first-year student. Why wouldn’t I invite them?” 

Sebastian held her gaze, trying to read beneath her calm exterior. He wasn’t ready to confront her about what he’d learned. But a part of him needed to be sure—he wouldn’t stand by if this was some subtle move to reignite old wounds, especially not where Elena was concerned. Not on his birthday. 

A sigh escaped Sebastian’s lips, and after a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke. “Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable for you to have Catherine Sinclair in our home?” 

Madeline kept her composure, though a flicker of unease crossed her mind. “Uncomfortable? Why would it be uncomfortable, Sebastian?” Her voice was smooth, almost too controlled. 

“Mother, I know that Catherine tried to steal from you in the past.” Sebastian’s tone remained calm, carefully masking the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What I don’t understand is why you’d want to invite her here—into our home.” 

Madeline’s pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, she muttered, “How?” Her voice was softer than intended, betraying the shock rippling through her. “Where did you hear this?” 

Sebastian leaned back slightly, maintaining his calm demeanor. “It’s not some hidden secret, mother. People talk.” He paused, watching her face. “Regardless, I don’t think it’s a good idea to invite them to this banquet.” 

Madeline’s thoughts raced. How does he know this? She struggled to regain her composure, her mind grasping for control. “What do you think I’m planning, Sebastian? I can’t invite the other top students and exclude them. How would that look?” 

“Then don’t invite any of them,” Sebastian replied firmly, standing as he placed the guest list back on the table. “It’s my birthday, after all. I should get to decide who’s there.” 

Madeline’s composure wavered, her voice sharpening. “Why are you being difficult, Sebastian? What happened between Catherine and me is in the past. Long forgotten.” 

Sebastian looked at her, his expression softening slightly, but his resolve remained. “Reopening old wounds won’t help you, Mother. I don’t want you hurt.” 

There was a deeper meaning behind his words, one Madeline wouldn’t know. Sebastian turned toward the door, giving her one last look. His heart thudded as he reached for the handle. I don’t want Elena hurt either. 

He closed the door behind him. 

Madeline sat in the now-silent room, her mind replaying the exchange with Sebastian. What did he misunderstand about my wanting to invite the Sinclairs? Did he truly think she intended to hurt Catherine? 

She stood and began pacing the room, her footsteps the only sound cutting through the stillness. It was rare for her to butt heads with Sebastian. He had always been her perfect son—trusting her judgment, never questioning the people she invited into their home.  

But now, despite his words, she knew she had to do what was right. Inviting the Sinclairs is what’s best, she reminded herself. Though the past could not be undone, she didn’t want to stand in Catherine or her daughter’s way. This was her olive branch—a chance to truly move on. 

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” Madeline muttered under her breath. “You’re too young to understand.” She picked up the guest list again, scanning it one last time before finalizing her decision. 

“Poppy,” she called. When the maid appeared, Madeline handed her the list. “This is the guest list. Have the invitations made and sent out immediately.” 

“Yes, your grace,” Poppy responded, taking the list and swiftly disappearing from the room. 

Madeline sat back down, her thoughts lingering on the past. Would Catherine accept the invitation this time? Or would she reject her again, just as she had before? Only time would tell, but soon enough, she would have her answer. Everything had been set in motion.  

In just a few days, the invitation arrived at the Sinclairs' home. Catherine eyed the elegantly crafted envelope, this time with less anxiety than before. Elena sat beside her, watching as her mother carefully broke the seal and unfolded the delicate invitation. 

It was an invite to Sebastian's 18th birthday banquet, accompanied by a congratulatory note for Elena’s top midterm ranking at Ashwood Academy. Silence filled the room, both mother and daughter waiting for the other to speak first, each lost in thought. 

For Elena, the invitation wasn’t a surprise. She had already learned from Professor Frowde that Sebastian’s birthday was approaching, and that a grand banquet would follow. When she mentioned her mid-term results, the professor had hinted at the likelihood of an invitation. 

"Remember what I told you, Elena," Professor Frowde had said. "The capital is a complicated place. Sebastian’s birthday banquet isn’t just a celebration; it’s a chance for the duchess to strengthen her alliances, maintain relationships, and gain new ones.” 

“But then, when does Sebastian really celebrate his birthday?” Elena asked, concern etched in her voice. 

Frowde hesitated. “Well, I’m not sure," he admitted. "But if there’s one thing I know, the banquet isn’t for him." 

“Are you attending?” 

"I believe so. I've attended nearly all of Sebastian’s birthday events since he was born." 

Elena paused, then confessed, "I don’t think I could go if I was invited.” 

Frowde raised an eyebrow, offering her a space to share more. 

“There’s... a complicated history between my mother and the duchess. I don’t want to put my mother through the stares and whispers that will follow.” 

Professor Frowde nodded, understanding it wasn’t his place to pry. After a beat, Elena added, “But, Professor... could you do me a favor? Please don’t mention to anyone that I work at your bookstore.” 

“Of course, Elena. Your story is yours to tell,” he reassured her. 

That conversation had solidified Elena’s decision: if an invitation did come, they would decline it. But this time, the choice was hers—not her mother’s. 

Catherine’s voice brought Elena back to the present. “Are you sure, Elena?” she asked gently, her concern evident. She wondered if revealing her past with Madeline had been the right decision. 

Though the last thing she wanted was to attend a party hosted by Madeline, she didn’t want Elena to carry the burden of her old wounds. 

“I’m sure, Mother,” Elena said, her tone steady. “It’s not the right time. I wouldn’t want a birthday banquet to turn into gossip about your past with the duchess. It would only distract from the occasion.” 

Elena knew declining the invitation was the right thing to do. But as she sat beside her mother, a small part of her wondered—what if she’d said yes? What if she could face this head-on, instead of always being careful, always being cautious? She pushed the thought aside, knowing the risk wasn’t worth it. Not yet. 

Catherine watched her daughter, noticing the resolve in her expression. Elena’s words were partly true; she wanted to spare her mother from the inevitable gossip and Sebastian from an awkward birthday celebration. But deep down, Elena also knew that avoiding the banquet was her only way to protect herself from the tangled histories she was now being drawn into. 

Once again, a rejection was sent to the Duke’s residence. Elena had meticulously crafted a heartfelt apology for their absence at the upcoming banquet, with warm congratulations to Sebastian for his birthday. Catherine, standing beside her daughter, co-signed the letter, a swell of pride rising in her chest. How much you’ve grown, she thought, marveling at Elena’s poise. 

As if fate were repeating itself, Martin approached the Duchess during her banquet preparations, holding the Sinclairs’ response. This time, Madeline retreated to her private sitting room, the weight of anticipation pressing down on her as she sat down, the envelope resting untouched on the table. 

She stared at it for a moment, her fingers hovering before finally breaking the seal. Her heart sank as she read the familiar words—rejection. Unconsciously, her hands crushed the letter, her control slipping momentarily. 

How could they do this—again? Am I a joke to Catherine? The questions swirled, her chest tightening as frustration mounted. After everything I’ve tried, after reaching out like this—how much rejection can one person take? 

But the anger was quickly overshadowed by something else. What will everyone think when they don’t attend? The weight of noble expectations bore down on her. I can already hear the whispers, the questions. The fragile balance she maintained in her social circles felt suddenly threatened, all because of one refusal. 

Her thoughts shifted to Sebastian’s warning, his calm but firm voice echoing in her mind. Maybe I should’ve listened to him? For a brief moment, doubt crept in, but she quickly banished it. No—she had made her choice, and it was the right one. 

If Catherine chooses not to attend, so be it. Madeline straightened in her chair, her mind hardening as she resolved her next move. 

I’ll say it was her decision. Let them talk. I’m not the one who turned away.