Downstairs, the Grand Hall of the Abernathy Estate was bathed in opulent golden light.
Crown Prince Julian smoothed the front of his white uniform, his gentlemanly smile fixed flawlessly in place.
Beneath that calm facade, his mind was calculating profit.
The House of Abernathy held forty percent of the empire’s southern iron mines.
Securing Vivienne as a submissive puppet bride would fund his military expansion before winter.
“What is taking that girl so long?” Duke Abernathy muttered, swirling a glass of expensive wine.
“Julian, I apologize for her lack of discipline.
“She takes after her commoner mother. No sense of punctuality.”
Julian offered a patient, fake smile.
“Do not worry, Duke. Vivienne is likely just nervous. I can wait.”
In reality, his patience was wearing thin.
The perfect trap was already set; Catherine stood positioned behind the velvet curtains of the eastern corridor, ready to display her gentle charm the moment Vivienne made a clumsy mistake.
Bang!
The heavy oak doors of the hall swung open with a resounding thud.
Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance.
Duke Abernathy’s jaw dropped.
Julian’s polite smile froze completely.
Instead of a weak lady adorned in crimson, Vivienne marched into the hall dressed in pitch-black leather.
Her heavy riding cloak billowed behind her, boots clicking sharply against the marble.
Her gaze locked directly onto Julian’s face.
There will be no engagement ceremony today,” Vivienne said, her voice echoing across the vast hall.
“Or ever.”
Julian blinked, completely caught off guard.
He quickly stepped forward, dropping his voice into his best gentle-prince register.
“Vivienne, darling, did you have a bad dream? If you are anxious about your responsibilities—”
“Save your breath, Julian,” Vivienne interrupted coldly.
“I am not anxious. I am disgusted.”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Duke Abernathy’s voice thundered through the hall.
“You will apologize to His Highness immediately! Put on the engagement dress and behave like my daughter!”
Vivienne turned her gaze to her father.
In her past life, she had spent her childhood begging for this man’s love, only for him to cheer at her execution.
The grief inside her flared for a single second, then hardened into pure, unyielding ice.
She let out a small, mocking laugh.
“Daughter? You only remember I’m your daughter when there is a contract to sign.”
Julian immediately stepped between them, his expression softening into practiced concern.
“Vivienne, please. You don’t understand what you’re doing. Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
“A chance?” Vivienne’s lips curved into a lethal smile.
“I know exactly what you want, Julian. You want my father’s mines. You want the military funding to secure your position before the Emperor’s succession.”
Julian’s face instantly drained of color.
“If you want a submissive bride so badly, Julian, look behind the curtain in the eastern corridor,” Vivienne continued, her voice cutting through the silent room like a whip.
“My half-sister Catherine has been waiting there with her bags packed for this exact moment.”
A gasp echoed from behind the velvet curtains.
Julian stared at Vivienne, his carefully crafted mask completely shattered.
Vivienne turned to the Duke, her eyes flashing with cold finality.
“And you… you never wanted a daughter. You wanted a political bridge. I spent my entire life trying to be useful enough for you to love me. But I am done begging for crumbs from two men who only want to bleed me dry.”
“Vivienne!” her father roared, stepping forward.
“I don’t owe either of you my life,” Vivienne said, turning her back on them.
“And I will never beg again.”
“Come back here!” the Duke exploded behind her.
“You will pay for humiliating this family! You will regret this!”
Vivienne didn’t even flinch.
Her boots struck the marble in a steady, unbroken rhythm.
She slammed the heavy doors shut behind her, leaving the weak, crying girl of the past inside that palace.
~♡~
Rain poured in sheets as Vivienne leaned low over the neck of her black stallion, Nightshade.
She galloped through the crowded, fog-covered streets of the imperial district, her dark riding cloak soaked through.
The clock tower in the distance chimed.
Four-fifteen.
Right on time.
The primary garrison guards were swapping shifts, leaving the eastern foundry checkpoint entirely unmonitored for exactly twenty minutes.
Julian believed his knights held an absolute layout over the inner sectors, entirely unaware that Vivienne knew every single flaw in his military rotation.
Thick, scalding gray steam from the iron furnaces obscured her silhouette from the watchtowers above.
She reached down, checking the leather satchel strapped to her thigh.
Inside lay a small silver hairpin she had stolen from Catherine’s vanity case.
A single tool for a very specific lock.
“Halt! Clear the lane!”
An iron-armored capital guard blocked the narrow exit, his massive warhorse rearing in the mist.
His hand moved toward the silver light-lance mounted on his saddle to force her hood back.
Vivienne didn’t hesitate.
Her submissive past-life habits had been entirely vaporized on the execution platform.
Before the guard could lower the lance, Vivienne stood in her stirrups.
Utilizing the raw momentum of her galloping stallion, she drove her fingers upward, striking the exact weak pressure point beneath the guard’s throat armor.
“Ugh!” the guard choked.
His golden mana instantly sputtered out as his windpipe contracted.
He tumbled sideways off his horse, clearing the path.
Vivienne didn’t waste a single second.
She kicked Nightshade’s flanks, tearing through the outer ivory gates of the capital district.
She was officially outside Julian’s script, heading directly toward the frozen, desolate wasteland of the northern border.
The sky ahead flickered with a violent, violet glare as atmospheric lightning cracked across the horizon.
She had exactly eight hours to reach the mouth of the Obsidian Domain—before the raging storm spiked Grand Duke Caelum’s core into total madness.