Enid paced around the hallway before confronting the Duke. The hallway outside his study was cold, and it had been late evening. It was too cold for Enid, and the goosebumps covering her skin didn’t detract from her mood. 

She was furious, and that emotion festered as the day continued. Her fists clenched at her side, the sleeves of her plain, linen blouse damp with tears she couldn’t stop. Her chest rose and fell in stuttering, heaving sobs.

She was also terrified. Why wouldn’t she be? She was going to go yell at her employer about neglecting his child. A nobleman, a duke.

Enid wanted to work at the Ducal estate as if she were dead; she really did. Earn her keep and her food and retire to the countryside when she got older—but that boy’s face, Nico’s. She couldn’t forget it. What kind of monster would neglect a child that sweet and kind?

She should’ve turned back, walked away. But she had already been moving at that point, marching up his door. All she could think of was Nico’s red eyes, and that little face looked as if that questioned if his father still loved him.

Perhaps she was overreacting, and she was too emotional.

Her hand shook as she pushed open the door without knocking.

The Duke’s study was dim. Heavy curtains blocked the late sun, the air smelled of leather, iron, and something…colder. Like blood that had yet to dry.

He was there.

Helios Rhadros, the serpent of the empire. Sitting behind his desk, one hand grasped the carved wood, the other holding a glass of dark liquor. He looked up at the sound of the door. His silver eye glints underneath the fall of his greying black hair.

He didn’t speak nor blink as she trembled and stomped over to him. 

He only watched her.

Enid had stumbled into the room, sobbing openly now. Her golden eyes were red, her umber cheeks blotched with the faintest of red. Her apron was wrinkled, and her shoes were muddy from her activities of laundering outside. She looked like what she was: a common maid who had no right to be there. 

And she didn’t care.

“What is wrong with you?” she cried, her voice cracked like glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Helio’s brow lifted slowly and coldly. His gaze bit her as he walked towards her.

“Who,” he said, his voice like the edge of a blade, “are you speaking to?”

Enid’s voice shook. “To you! To the Duke of this god’s damn house! The one who left his son sobbing in the pantry because he doesn’t even think he’s worth looking at!”

He didn’t move. But something in the air shifted, and the mood became stranger than it was when she stepped in. 
“You’re upset,” he said.

“I am furious!” She screamed, chest heaving. You have a son who loves you— desperately— and you treat him like trash! Like a mistake! Like he’s and you treat him like trash! Like a mistake! Like he’s in the way of your life with your precious baby daughter.”

The glass in his hand cracked. Enid flinched.  But she didn’t stop.

“He waited for you. He waited with a book. He just wanted to sit with you. And you walked past him like he wasn’t even alive.”

Helios set the glass down slowly; it cracked a bit further before shattering on his desk.

Then he stepped around the desk.

And began to circle her.

His loafers were silent on the thick carpet. His hands with clasped behind his back. He stared.

He circled her like a snake curling around a field mouse, like a predator circling prey.

His movements were slow, measured. His gaze reeks over her body with concern concerning interest.

“You’re trembling.”

“Of course I’m trembling!”

He smiled, and it made a chill run down her spine. “Is that because of your station? Or because you realize how stupid it is to come crying into your master’s den like a little dairy cow fattened for slaughter?”

She didn’t answer, so he simply continued after the silence stretched a bit too long.

“Tell me, girl. What makes you think your opinion matters? You? You're common, you have no title. No land. Your thighs are thick like a milkmaid’s, and your face is unremarkable. Your mouth quivers like you’re about to beg. And yet you come here, crying, screaming at me like you’ve forgotten who the hell you are. Do you know how many like you I’ve crushed underfoot and war?”

“I know exactly what I am!” Enid shouts in response. “ and right now, I’m the only and right now, I’m the only person in this damn house who gives a shit about your son!”

That stopped him, for a breath—a heartbeat.

Then, he laughed. Low. Dark. Chilling.

He raised a hand and touched her face. 

Not gently.

Her large, rough fingers gripped her chin, hard enough to bruise if he wanted to. He tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eye.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he whispered, “or I’d break you.”

Enid slapped him—hard. The crack of the impact echoed in the silence of the study.

He didn’t move; his head turned slightly, silver eye gleaming with something Enid couldn’t quite read. 

“I’ll ask you again, what the hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to destroy your son? Is that what your poor, dead wife would want?!”

The novel, ‘The Duke’s Daughter’, had only mentioned a few things about the female lead’s mom; that she was ten years younger than him, and that the female lead’s birth caused her death, but nothing much more. 

Enid was sure this was a low dig—but she wanted to see what he was doing to his son for what it was—neglect.

Either way, something in him cracked.

“Don’t speak of her.”

“I-I did and I’d do it again! Because I have to remind you that you didn’t just lose a wife! You had a son with her; he lost his mother, too. You’re less than an animal, My Lord. Even animals comfort their young.”

Helios stepped back. His face is pale now. His jaw clenched, something violent shook in his hands.

“Perhaps I am less than animal,” he admits, but says as well, “I do know that I am a villain. I am the man who left his pregnant wife, even when she begged me not to go. And I left anyway—because His Majesty ordered it.”

His voice was now colder, controlled. He grabbed her arm tightly, and this time, she could feel the bruise coming along.

“I expected to come home to my wife and children—instead, I was brought a corpse when I reached the marital room and a baby I didn’t recognize.”

The room went silent again. 

The father of the novel, ‘

He looked at Enid with his head cocked.

“Anastasia was the remains of her. Her eyes, her hair, her skin.”

Enid stood still.

“Nico—” she began.

“Nico only has my eyes,” he said. “The ones that look at me like I killed her.”

“Well, did you?” he flinched. Good.

Enid took a step forward, and tears still fell from her eyes.

“I don’t care if you’re a villain. I don’t care if you’re a Duke. You lost your wife. But that boy, Nico—your son—lost his mother. The mother he has memories of with you. And now you’re making him lose his father, too.”

Helios blinked.

“You said that Anaatasia is what’s left of your wife,” she chose her words carefully, letting it fall to a whisper. “But Nico is, too. He is her. He’s you. And if your wife could see you now, see how you’re neglecting the part of her that looks like you—what do you think she’d say?”

Enid’s hands were shaking—she was terrified, but she had already slapped him and survived, so what could more words do? He needed to hear the truth, and she needed to finish getting things off her chest.

His hand opened, and he released her. She staggered back, but didn’t fall. She clutched her hand that was already forming a darkening spot.

“I should report you,” Enid finally said.

“You won’t,” he said, his voice unreadable. “An eye for an eye. Now we both have bruises.”

She glared at him before sighing and taking steps back, until she had her hand on the door. She wiped her tears and turned to face him.

“Apologize to Nico for a start—he deserves that much from you.”

And with that, she quickly turned her heel and fled. This time, she didn’t cry again until she reached the stairwell and collapsed against the cold stone wall, gasping for breath.

Back in the study room, the Duke stood alone, considering her words, her tears.

And for the first time in months, he didn’t know what to say.