Blair bowed her head, her bandaged fingers clutching the blanket tightly. "I... I will do my best."
She couldn’t bring herself to promise that something like this would never happen again. If more high-society beastwomen walked through their front doors and looked down on her, she knew she still wouldn’t have the strength or standing to fight them back.
The electric hum of Philippe’s wheelchair cut through the silence as he drew closer to the side of the bed. He stopped right beside her, his dark, heavy gaze dropping to her wrapped hand before rising to meet her pale face.
"You are Mrs. Deruno, Blair," Philippe stated, his deep voice vibrating with absolute authority. "Even if you try your best to avoid trouble, trouble will still find you in this world. So, instead of simply taking it as it comes... stand up for yourself."
"But..." The word caught in Blair’s throat as she lifted her head and met his gaze.
His dark eyes were suffocatingly intense. This wasn’t gentle advice; it was an order.
"If you truly fear ruining this family’s name," Philippe continued, his tone unreadable yet immovable, "then you should stand tall on your own two feet and defend your seat. No matter who it is that looks down on you, they have no right or qualification to lay a finger on you. Because... you are our wife."
Those words settled deep inside her chest. Her heart squeezed—not with the agonizing, suffocating panic from earlier, but with an unexpected, fragile warmth.
"How is your hand?" Philippe asked, his eyes dropping back to the thick white bandages. "I assume you won’t be able to cook for a while."
Blair flinched, looking down at her wrapped palm in immediate dismay.
That’s right... Her mind panicked. With my hand like this, how am I supposed to take care of them? My only strong point... the only useful thing I can offer... my cooking...
"It’s fine if you can’t cook for a bit," Lukas grumbled, drawing her attention back.
As she lifted her gaze, Lukas leaned in slightly closer, his white fox ears twitching as he looked away, muttering under his breath, "The meal you made... I liked it a lot. I haven’t had anything that good in years. So don’t go thinking you’re useless or whatever."
In her peripheral vision, the subtle system interface flickered once more:
[System Alert: Affection Log Update]
[Target: Lukas Deruno — 18% (▲ +3%)]
[Target: Philippe Deruno — 10% (▲ +4%)]
Sebastian watched the display in front of him with a silent, internal sigh. This is ridiculous, he thought, pinching his nose bridge.
It was obvious his brothers were softening toward her. Well, let them. As long as she didn’t disrupt his work or ruin the family’s standing, it didn’t concern him.
"I will leave Thomas to handle the banquet preparations and invitations," Sebastian said smoothly, turning on his heel. "I have matters to attend to."
"I have calls to return as well," Philippe added, turning his wheelchair around and rolling toward the double doors after Sebastian.
Lukas grunted, crossing his arms as he backed toward his private bath. "Get some rest, human. And don’t mess up my bed. I’m going to take a bath."
As the bathroom door closed and the room fell quiet, Blair let her head sink back onto the soft pillows. She closed her eyes, but peace didn’t come. Instead, her husbands’ words echoed endlessly inside her mind.
A banquet... For me? Am I even worth it?
They want me to stand tall? Stand before beastwomen of higher standing?
Her chest tightened with a familiar, suffocating dread. How could she possibly do that? How could a weak, fragile human like her hold up her shoulders in a room full of predators?
She knew nothing of high society, of politics, or of power. She hadn’t even finished her education—the Cross family had finally grown fed up with a burden and disgrace like her, kicking her out onto the streets right before she could ever attend university. She had lost everything before she ever gained anything.
She did not hate that they kicked her out. If anything, she was glad, since in that house, she was no different from a punching bag, always framed, always beaten, always the one at fault... When the one behind all of it was the true daugther... The one who accused her of stealing her place and blamed her every single day for it.
All Blair knew—the only thing she had ever learned to do right in order to survive—was to become a good caretaker. To cook, to clean, to make herself useful so people wouldn’t throw her away like garbage... Not like it ever stopped them from throwing her away anyway.
Blair opened her eyes, staring blankly up at the high ceiling.
I have to make dinner, she thought desperately. I can use my left hand. I can manage simple ingredients, and I’ll ask Henderson to do the heavy lifting. I... I can’t just lie here doing nothing.
Determined to prove she wasn’t completely useless, and to win points with her husbands, Blair swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her bare feet against the cold marble floor.
She pushed herself up, but the world instantly tilted on its axis.
A sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit her like a physical force, turning her vision pitch-black at the edges.
Her knees buckled beneath her weak frame, her strength vanishing completely as her body pitched forward toward the hard floor.
I have no strength in my body—
The bathroom door immediately slammed open, and a figure of white blur crossed the room.
Before her face could strike the marble, a pair of strong, warm arms caught her mid-fall, pulling her soft body against a broad, bare chest.
Blair gasped, her cheek landing directly over the steady, heavy thud of a heart.
Lukas had rushed towards her the moment he stepped out and watched her tilt forward.
He had a towel draped loosely around his waist, his silver-white hair damp and clinging to his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his chest and broad shoulders.
The crisp scent of rain and cedar wood wrapped around her senses, cutting straight through the reek of blood that had filled the room all afternoon.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" Lukas growled, his voice tight with an unfamiliar panic.
He didn’t shove her back onto the bed or bark at her like he usually did. Instead, his arms tightened around her waist, lifting her frail weight effortlessly as he sank down onto the edge of the mattress, pulling her directly into his lap to keep her from falling again.