*Knock, knock*

"Miss Vicky, may I interrupt your lesson?"

My brother’s voice rang through the door, calm and composed, as always.

Relief flooded me for a brief moment.

Seraphel! Surely, he would stop this madness.

Miss Vicky hesitated, clearly caught off guard, before straightening herself and opening the door.

She dipped her head slightly, all false politeness.

"Lord Seraphel, what brings you here?" she asked with a smile, the whip carefully hidden behind her back.

Seraphel stepped inside, his presence filling the room.

His dark hair, the same shade as mine, caught the light from the chandelier, and his piercing gaze swept across the room.

His eyes landed on me, disheveled and trembling, my skirt still lifted slightly in humiliation.

For a moment, I thought I saw his expression falter, but then his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Miss Vicky, I trust you’re handling Aria’s discipline properly. She can be… difficult," he said, his tone measured but distant, as if he were discussing a misbehaving servant rather than his own sister.

I froze.

Difficult?

Was that what he thought of me? A difficult, mischievous child who deserved this?

My chest tightened, and the faint hope I had clung to shattered into pieces.

"Of course, my lord," Miss Vicky said with a sweet smile.

"Lady Aria’s behavior leaves much to be desired, but I assure you, I am doing everything to ensure she grows into a proper lady."

Seraphel nodded approvingly, ignoring the whip peeking out from behind her back.

He didn’t even question it.

Instead, he turned to me, his gaze stern.

"Aria, you need to listen to Miss Vicky. She’s here to help you, not harm you. You shouldn’t make things so difficult for her—or for the family."

I wanted to scream, to tell him the truth, but the words caught in my throat.

I couldn’t even look at him.

My brother, my own brother, thought I was the problem.

Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away, keeping my voice steady.

"Yes, brother."

He gave a small nod, as if satisfied.

"Good. I’ll leave you to it, then. Father expects better from you, Aria."

Without another glance, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Miss Vicky waited until his footsteps faded before turning back to me, a cruel smile tugging at her lips.

"Well, you heard your brother. Lift your skirt."

I bit my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat as I obeyed.

The whip cracked through the air, the sharp sting biting into my skin.

My tears fell silently, unnoticed and uncared for.

_____________________________________________________________________________

 That night, I curled up in the corner of my small room, a space meant for maids and servants.

The cramped walls seemed to press in on me, suffocating me with the weight of my despair.

My legs throbbed from the punishment, but worse than the pain was the emptiness in my chest.

Seraphel thought I deserved this.

My father probably did, too.

To them, I was nothing more than a mischievous, spoiled child in need of discipline.

They didn’t see the truth.

They didn’t want to.

I stared at the dim, cracked ceiling, blinking back tears.

No canopy, no grandeur. Just the cold reality of my place in this house.

I pressed my face into the thin, scratchy pillow, stifling the sobs that threatened to escape.

But as the silence wrapped around me, I clung to one small solace: my memories of my past life.

They reminded me that this wasn’t my fault.

Those memories, though fragmented and distant, had taught me resilience.

I was thankful for those memories—they grounded me, gave me strength, and reminded me that there was a world beyond these suffocating walls.

Someday, I would escape this house, this life.

And when I did, I would never look back.