Rocío finally set the embroidery hoop down on the seat next to her. “With all due respect, Father, I will not marry a man who’ll squander my dowry on some horses.”

His jaw twitched. “Do you know what men are saying about you?” He managed through gritted teeth.

“I really couldn't care less.” She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

He groaned. “A woman who will not support the hobbies of her husband is seen as unmarriageable. Do you wish to die alone?”

“Hobbies?” Rocío scoffed, rolling her amber eyes. “Hobbies are painting, going to the opera, maybe even hunting. Hobbies are not betting on horses, frequenting casinos, or being a drunkard,” she spat. “How could you think I would be alright with marrying a reckless man like that? I am your daughter even if you don't like it. That means as the daughter of a Duke of this kingdom I have the obligation to marry someone that brings glory to our name, not shame.”

The Duke shook his head. “Who do you reckon will marry you now?”

She looked over at her mother, who was looking down at the ivory keys of the piano. “I think mother has someone in mind,” she said, noticing how her mother flinched.

The Duke whipped around, facing his wife. “Is that true, Victoria?”

Victoria, the Duchess, turned to him. “Yes, it’s true, Ignacio.”

It must’ve been one of the few times they spoke in front of their children since the accident, and it was still jarring to Rocío that they called each other by name. She pushed away a memory of when they spoke to each other with pet names.

“Who?” He questioned.

“The Marquis de Valentina,” Victoria replied, finally standing from the piano and walking over to the pair.

The Duke's eyes widened and his entire body went stiff. “No.”

“What?” Rocío shot up from her seat. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

He turned back to her. “Exactly that. No.”

Rocío began to tremble with rage. “No?” she scoffed. “He is loved by the people, he has a good title, he was awarded riches by the Kingdom. What more do you want, Father?” She glared at him. “Marquis Félix is the only correct answer. Plus, he’s not a gambler and a drunkard!”

“I’d rather you marry a gambler than a murderer!” He panted. His yell was so loud and full of passion that it had left behind a suffocating silence and disheveled his previously perfectly groomed hair.

Rocío couldn’t look away from her father, who was catching his breath and trying to re-establish his composure. He fixed his hair and straightened his jacket.

“You are still my daughter,” he breathed, “I will not have you marry a monster.”

“Monster?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know him!”

“And you think you do?” He chuckled bitterly. “Do you have any idea how many men he’s killed?”

“What about you? How many have you killed?”

“Rocío, I’m doing this for your own good. I will not allow it. No matter how enamoured with him you are, I will not let you waltz into danger like that.”

She furrowed her brows. “My own good? Don’t be ridiculous, Father. I know you want me gone, you haven’t really kept that a secret for the past twelve years. So why won’t you at least let me choose?”

His expression of anger wavered and she caught what looked like remorse. No, it couldn’t be. Her father wasn’t capable of feeling remorse anymore.

“Whether or not you believe me doesn’t matter. My word is final.”

“Ignacio,” the Duchess spoke. “Don’t be absurd.”

Rocío and Elena looked at her wide-eyed. They couldn’t remember the last time their mother spoke up against their father.

The Duke’s eyes also widened.

“Rocío deserves to marry better than that Lisandro character, and she also deserves to marry for love. The Marquis seems promising, why not let time decide? Now that the children are going to Gladiolos, Rocío’ll have plenty of time to determine what’s best for her.”

Rocío’s lips threatened to curl upwards but she bit her lip to prevent her from smiling. 

“Victoria, the Marquis might be well acclaimed, but you haven’t seen that lifeless look in his eyes when he slashes down an opponent. If you knew how frightening he is, you would not let him within fifty feet of her.”

The Duchess crossed her arms over her chest. “War has a way of changing people, Ignacio, what he had to do to survive in battle is not who he is. You might not be the same but you are not a monster, are you?”

“Victoria,” he sighed in frustration, “How are you not even a little concerned over your daughter’s safety?”

“Rocío is good at taking care of herself,” the Duchess deadpanned, “Santiago would also never let anyone dangerous approach her. I trust his judgement.”

The Duke bit back a comment. Rocío guessed it was related to the last part of her mother’s statement.

The Duke let out a sarcastic chuckle. “You really want to die on this hill?”

Her mother didn’t waver, she stood proud and strong against Ignacio. “If it means Rocío gets to marry a man worthy of her, then yes.”

Rocío fought the urge to tackle her mother in a hug.

Ignacio grimly smiled. “You have no idea the hell that’ll be unleashed on this family.”

Rocío’s happiness dissipated like a burst bubble. “What?” Her heart sank. “What do you mean by that, Father?”

Ignacio turned to her, blue eyes filled with disappointment. “A man as lifeless as a puppet is bound to bring trouble.”

The image of the Marquis in her dream burned her eyelids again. Her resolve wavered and doubt crept in. Getting him closer to her might not be effective, maybe it would make it easier for him to kill them. Goosebumps formed on her arms.

“Ignacio, don’t frighten her. The Marquis will not harm her. Have some faith,” Victoria scolded. “This might be the best thing that happens to her in years. Let his actions prove his worth.”

Ignacio looked at his wife and rubbed his temple again. “If something happens…”

“Nothing will,” Victoria sighed as she shook her head in disappointment.

“I warned you,” he glared at his wife before stomping away, leaving a horribly conflicted Rocío to fall back on the couch.