"Brother... how can you say that?"

Ophelia’s voice broke, her tears spilling down her cheeks like pearls slipping from a broken string. She looked every bit as wounded as she sounded, fragile, wronged, and painfully sincere.

Anyone watching might have felt their heart soften at the sight, might have thought she was the one being pushed aside, quietly mistreated in favor of someone else.

Ashley, holding the card that had caused it all, felt that weight settle on her for a brief moment. Guilt stirred, but it didn’t last.

Because when she looked at the situation more clearly, the feeling didn’t sit right.

She was the one who had been lost, the one who had been absent from this family for years beyond her control. The one who should have been here all along. Whatever place she was being given now, it wasn’t something stolen. It was something being returned.

And Ophelia...

Ashley couldn’t deny that the girl had been treated well. Protected, cared for, given a place in their lives despite not being bound by blood. That alone spoke volumes about her brothers.

But it also meant there was a story behind it, a reason she didn’t yet understand. And without knowing that truth, Ashley refused to judge too quickly.

So why should she feel guilty for being acknowledged? For being welcomed back? For being given what was, in essence, hers by right?

Her gaze lowered briefly to the Black Dragon card in her hand.

She understood now, at least, part of it. This wasn’t just generosity. It was Apollo’s way of compensating for lost time; for years, they hadn’t been able to share. Because whatever had happened to her in the past, wherever she had been... it was beyond their reach. The world she had lived in wasn’t one ordinary people, even powerful ones, could easily access.

Even wealth had its limits.

There were boundaries between the two worlds, and information didn’t cross them freely. Only a select few held that knowledge, those tasked with maintaining balance between what was seen and what remained hidden.

Her brothers, no matter how influential they were, had never been part of that circle.

Which meant... they had been searching in the dark all this time.

And now that she was finally here, this and everything they were doing was their way of making up for it. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"Alright. That’s enough, we’re not discussing this further."

Apollo cut the conversation short, his tone leaving no room for argument. He had no intention of letting it drag on, not when it risked placing Ashley in an uncomfortable position, making her feel unwelcome, or worse, guilty for holding something she had never asked for. The card in her hand was like a hot potato.

"But—"

Ophelia tried to press on, her protest rising instinctively, but she didn’t get the chance.

Apollo stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. The sharp, grating sound cut through the room, drawing every gaze toward him. Even Gage flinched slightly at the noise, his expression tightening as the tension snapped back into place.

Without another word, Apollo turned and strode out of the dining hall, his departure as decisive as his earlier command. It wasn’t just an exit; it was a statement.

He would not entertain further argument, and Ophelia’s continued protest had already brushed too close to challenging his authority within the family. Staying any longer would only push him toward losing his composure, and that was the last thing he wanted, especially in front of Ashley.

The irritation simmering beneath his calm, the pressure of his aura... he refused to let any of it spill over and unsettle her. So he left, cutting the tension cleanly rather than letting it escalate.

The silence he left behind was heavy.

Ophelia sat there, momentarily at a loss, unsure whether her long-awaited outing with him still stood or had just been dismissed along with the conversation. Frustration tightened in her chest, resentment bubbling over as her gaze shifted, sharp and unhidden, toward Ashley.

Ashley, however, had already finished her meal and had no desire to remain in the strained atmosphere. She glanced toward Aunt Lavinia, and the older woman immediately understood. With a subtle nod, Aunt Lavinia stepped forward and signaled the staff.

Within moments, a wheelchair was brought in.

Before anyone else could move, Gage was already there.

He stepped in behind Ashley, his movements quick and efficient. As soon as the wheelchair was positioned, he carefully lifted her and settled her into the seat with practiced ease, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Young Master Gage, you may leave Young Miss Ashley to me," Aunt Lavinia said smoothly, already guiding the wheelchair toward the exit. "We’ll only be out for a short while, to pick up a few clothes and some toiletries. The rest of you can stay and... take care of things here."

Her tone was polite, but the meaning beneath it was anything but casual. As she spoke, she cast a meaningful glance toward Ophelia, then briefly toward the remaining brothers, a silent message passing between them.

It was clear what she intended. This tension couldn’t be allowed to fester, not when it was already beginning to affect Ashley. If left unresolved, it would only deepen the divide.

Without waiting for a response, Aunt Lavinia continued forward, pushing Ashley out of the dining hall with steady composure. Behind them, the unspoken responsibility lingered heavily in the room, settling squarely on Daemon, Gage, Archivalt, and Ace.

Catching Aunt Lavinia’s intent without a word, the brothers exchanged brief, knowing glances before their attention shifted, first to Ophelia, still sulking, and then to Ashley. She sat there in quiet detachment, as though the tension in the room had nothing to do with her at all. In her hands, the Black Dragon card turned idly between her fingers, treated with the same casual indifference as any ordinary piece of metal.

It only made her harder to read.

Her expression remained perfectly neutral, giving nothing away. They couldn’t tell if she was displeased, indifferent, or quietly upset beneath the surface. There was no reaction to grasp, no emotion to anchor to.

But in truth, Ashley wasn’t thinking much of anything at all.

Too many things had happened in such a short span that her mind simply... refused to engage. Rather than sort through the tangled mess of emotions and implications, she chose the easier path, letting it all drift past her, as she was too tired to care for now.

And so, Ashley and Aunt Lavinia left the dining hall behind. The moment the doors closed and the tension no longer pressed against her, Ashley finally allowed herself to look, truly look, at her surroundings.

The palace spoke of old money.

Not the kind that flaunted itself loudly, but the kind that settled into every surface with quiet, undeniable authority.

The furnishings, the décor, everything carried weight, history, and intention. Ashley couldn’t quite place the style. It wasn’t confined to a single influence. There were traces of classical European grandeur, hints of French Rococo in the delicate curves and ornamentation, and even echoes of Gilded Age opulence woven seamlessly throughout the space. It was less a design choice and more a statement of legacy.