“Where’s my mother?” Sebastian asked the maid who greeted him at the front door. He had avoided his mother since the banquet but now, since his talk with Elena he couldn’t any longer.

“The Duchess is in the greenhouse overseeing Lady Lillian’s botany lesson, Master Sebastian” she replied with a bow.

Sebastian loosened his tie, the tightness in his chest growing with each passing second. At this point, he couldn’t delay any longer. If rumors were spreading at Ashwood Academy, then no doubt the parents in different circles were already talking too.

As Sebastian made his way to the greenhouse, the warmth and damp scent of earth and flowers enveloped him before he even stepped inside. Lillian’s voice drifted faintly through the air, asking questions about the plants, while her tutor responded with soft, measured answers.

Everything seemed so calm in the greenhouse, worlds apart from the storm brewing outside. Madeline sat nearby at a table, sipping tea as she watched over the lesson, Poppy standing dutifully by her side.

The greenhouse door swung open, drawing all eyes as Sebastian entered. He nodded politely to the room and crossed the space to his mother, taking a seat opposite her.

Poppy instinctively moved to pour tea into a cup for Sebastian as he settled down, her movements quick and practiced.

“When did you arrive, Sebastian?” Madeline asked, delicately placing her cup back onto the saucer. She hadn’t seen much of him since the banquet, his recent habit of having breakfast in his room an unspoken rebellion against the family’s long-standing tradition.

“I need to speak with you about the banquet,” Sebastian replied, his voice calm but laced with an underlying seriousness.

“The event was marvelous, wasn’t it? But it’s done now, Sebastian. What exactly do you need to talk about?” Madeline’s tone remained composed, though an edge of authority crept into her voice, subtly signaling her lack of interest in revisiting the subject.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “You must have heard by now—rumors are circulating about you and Catherine Sinclair because of it.”

Madeline paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her teacup before turning to Poppy. “Can you inform the governess that Lillian’s lesson can end here for today? And please bring me my shawl.”

Poppy’s quick nod showed she understood—Madeline wanted space, privacy. The unspoken signal was clear: this conversation was about to take a more serious turn.

“I don’t understand why you’d want to be intertwined with a useless rumor about something that happened in your childhood, Mother,” Sebastian pressed, his gaze unwavering.

“I’ve already told you before, Sebastian, I hold no grudges against Catherine Sinclair. That’s why I invited her and her daughter,” Madeline responded coolly.

“When I asked you not to invite any Ashwood students to my birthday, you refused to listen.”

“I made the best decision for us, Sebastian. How would it look if I didn’t invite them, when I’ve always done so in the past?”

“What does it matter? You’re the one making the decisions.”

Madeline’s grip on her teacup tightened, but she kept her voice calm. “How was I to know she would reject the invitation?”

“Would you have accepted, if you were in her shoes?”

Madeline stared at Sebastian, wanting to say yes, to give him a firm answer. But the word wouldn’t come. Deep down, she knew why Catherine had rejected the invitation.

She’d hoped, perhaps naively, that enough time had passed, that Catherine, like her, would have moved on. She was a mother now—surely, she could understand.

However, Madeline’s pride wouldn’t let her admit it, not even to herself. The rejection stung. Not just because of the rumors it might spark, but because it reminded her that no matter how perfect her life seemed now, there were things she could never fully erase.

Sebastian’s expression softened, but his tone remained steady. “Mother, you know more than anyone how noble society in the capital works.” He paused, hesitating. He hated to say it, but he needed to know. “Did you plan this? Are you still seeking revenge for some petty theft?”

Madeline’s eyes widened, her control slipping. “How dare you ask me that? Is that what you think of me?” Her voice rose, sharp enough for Poppy to hear from outside.

Though Sebastian kept his composure, it was rare to see his mother so visibly shaken. A rare crack in her façade.

“Why would I need revenge on Catherine Sinclair when her life is already less than mine?” Madeline said, her voice quieter now but edged with bitterness. Her hands gripped the hem of her skirt under the table, trying to steady herself. “Soon enough, the rumors will stop, and people will move on to the next scandal.”

Sebastian studied her carefully, sensing the conversation was at its end. He rose to leave. “I hope so, Mother. I hate to see you become the subject of unnecessary gossip.”

But as he turned, Elena’s words echoed in his mind: “The duchess lied.” He wanted to ask, to confront his mother directly. But even if it were true, she would never admit it. He believed his mother, and the information Geoff had gathered only reinforced Madeline’s claim. Yet the possibility—the nagging thought that she could have lied—was a reality he wasn’t prepared to confront.

Without another word, Sebastian left, leaving the lingering tension between them.

Now alone, Madeline felt the weight of her emotions crashing down, her hand unconsciously picking at the edge of her finger. A small, mindless habit she hadn’t noticed in years.

It couldn’t merely be concern for the rumors that had driven Sebastian to confront her—there was something deeper behind his questions.

Why had he been acting so differently lately? Her once-dutiful son, always so measured and obedient, had begun to challenge her. A quiet defiance she hadn’t anticipated. Their relationship, once so predictable, was shifting in ways she couldn’t control.

Catherine, she thought bitterly. Ever since her return to the capital, nothing has felt the same. A wave of frustration washed over her, tightening her chest. Why was this still haunting her? After all these years, why couldn’t they both just move on?

“Catherine, you should have just accepted the invitation,” she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible but heavy with unresolved tension.

But deep down, Madeline knew the invitation was never just a simple gesture. It had been a way to assert her control, to show that she had won. She had everything—her status, her family, her reputation. Yet Catherine, with a single rejection, had made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

The thought of it made her feel exposed, as if the old wounds had never fully healed, only festered beneath the surface.

When Poppy reappeared, Madeline snapped back into her usual composed self. She couldn’t afford to dwell on Catherine or the rumors, not now. She had too much to lose, too much to protect.

“Prepare my bath for me, would you, Poppy?” she instructed coolly as she rose gracefully from the table, every movement measured and poised.

Madeline left the greenhouse behind, trying to shake off the conversation with Sebastian and the emotions it stirred in her. But no matter how far she walked from the glass walls and their suffocating greenery, the thoughts followed her, clinging to her like the damp air she was trying to escape.

As the sun’s warm rays began to fade, Elena descended from the carriage and approached their cozy home, its welcoming glow a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within.

For Elena, as much as she wished she didn’t have to initiate this conversation, she knew it was unavoidable. They had to be prepared for whatever was to come.

The rumors at Ashwood Academy were already spreading, and it was only a matter of time before they reached her mother. The thought of that reality pressed heavily on her chest as she approached their cottage, a place that had started to finally feel like home.

When Elena opened the front door, the familiar scent of Bethany’s cooking greeted her, but it did little to ease the knot tightening in her stomach. In the sitting room, Catherine was quietly engrossed in her embroidery, the gentle rhythm of her hands moving over the fabric giving the room a sense of calm and order. It made Elena’s heart ache, knowing she was about to disrupt the peace that had settled over her mother.

For a brief moment, she stood frozen in the doorway, watching the serene scene. She wished—more than anything—that she could protect Catherine from what was coming.

She had seen her mother smile more in the last few months than she had in years. The calm they had found here, away from the capital’s harsh judgments, felt fragile, like it could shatter at the slightest touch.

Catherine’s face lit up the moment she saw Elena walk in. “How was your day?” she asked warmly, the usual gentle lilt in her voice.

Elena hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to be the one to say it, to shatter the peaceful moment. But there was no avoiding it.

“Mom,” she began, her voice strained with a heaviness Catherine immediately recognized. “Something has happened.”

Catherine’s smile faded as she carefully set aside her embroidery, her hands stilling as the seriousness in Elena’s tone sank in. She offered her hand to her daughter, bracing herself for what she instinctively knew would be difficult news. “What is it?” she asked gently, though her own heart quickened in anticipation.

Elena took her mother’s hand, but the words felt like stones in her throat. She had thought about how to say this all the way home, but no matter how she phrased it, the hurt would still land. I have to tell her. She deserves to know.

“I’m sorry,” Elena’s voice wavered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “There are rumors spreading at the academy... that you stole from the duchess. And that’s why we didn’t go to the banquet.”

The room felt too still in the aftermath of her words. Elena couldn’t bear to look at her mother’s face, afraid of what she might see there—fear, hurt, or maybe anger at the past resurfacing so cruelly.

But instead, Catherine let out a soft sigh and pulled Elena into a comforting embrace. “Oh, Elena,” she whispered, holding her daughter close. “I’m the one who’s sorry, sorry that something from my past is hurting you now.”

Elena closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume, but she couldn’t hold back the quiet sob that escaped her lips, her heart breaking for her mother. Catherine’s words were warm, reassuring even, but they didn’t erase the injustice of it all—of the past haunting them both.

Catherine stroked her daughter’s hair, feeling her own heart twist. She had known, deep down, that her return to the capital wouldn’t be without complications.

But to have it affect Elena so directly, to drag her daughter into the painful shadows of old secrets—it was almost too much to bear.

“What should we do? It’s unfair that they’re spreading lies about what happened,” Elena’s frustration bubbled up, her hands gripping her skirt tightly. The injustice of it all weighed heavily on her.

Catherine gently cupped Elena’s face in her hands, her touch soft but firm. “Elena, look at me,” she said, her voice steady but filled with quiet strength. “You’ve been so brave since we moved here, more than you realize. And I’ve learned so much from you, watching how you face everything with courage. If you can handle this, then so can I.”

Elena blinked back tears, nodding as her mother’s words sank in, the tension in her chest loosening just a little.

“Rumors fade,” Catherine reassured her, though a part of her wasn’t sure if she fully believed it. “Soon enough, they won’t matter.”

But even as she said it, Catherine’s thoughts wandered to the other, more daunting possibility—meeting with Madeline. She knew it was the only way to end this once and for all. Yet, how could she face the Duchess again after all these years?

Madeline had only gained more influence in the capital since then, her status now far more unshakeable. And if Catherine knew anything about her former friend, it was that Madeline’s pride would never allow her to admit to the past.

Even if Catherine revealed the truth—if she told the whole world what really happened—Madeline would still be the Duchess.

That title alone carried power, and in the eyes of noble society, power was the only thing that determined whose side people took. Catherine clenched her hands in her lap, her resolve wavering.

But for Elena, she had to stay strong. She had no choice.

“Let’s not let their words get to us either." Catherine finally said, squeezing Elena’s hands. “We know the truth. That’s all that matters.”