Chapter 3

"I saw her! She snuck into Mother Cecilia's room last night and smashed the crystal vial!"

The kid's voice rang out from the doorway. Luke pointed a finger dead at me.

A physical ache hollowed out my chest. I stared at the boy I had torn my body apart to bring into this world.

Four years. This was only the second time my son had ever called me Mom.

The first time was to banish me. Now, he was framing me.

"Luke, what are you talking about?" I choked out, my voice breaking. "I was just out in the hall to..."

A violent force slammed into my shoulder. I flew backward, hitting the mattress hard. My teeth rattled as Valentine loomed over me.

"He is four," Valentine snapped. "He is your own kid. Why the hell would he lie?"

Over his shoulder, I watched Cecilia pull Luke into her arms. She kissed his temple.

"My brave boy," she murmured. "Thank you for telling the truth."

I swallowed the copper taste in my mouth, fighting the tears burning my eyes. "Valentine, listen to me. I was bringing the..."

His eyes went dead.

"Drop the act." He grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise bone. "Smashing a pureblood heirloom is a felony. I should hand you over to the Tribunal. Let you rot in the Silver Prison."

The sheer casualness of his threat stole the breath from my lungs.

The Silver Prison. A death sentence.

And he offered it up without a single flinch.

"Valentine, wait." Cecilia stepped up, resting a hand on his arm. Her eyes gleamed. "She gave birth to Luke. If she just hands over the Holy Rose Essence to pay me back, I will let it go."

My breath hitched.

The Holy Rose Essence. The rarest healing serum on the continent. Valentine had tracked it down right after he got his title back, meant to cure the chronic nerve damage I got from testing black-market potions for him.

I had never used it. I kept it as proof that we had survived the worst together.

I let out a dry, broken laugh. "That essence... I used it four years ago. When I bled out having your son. How else do you think a human survives a pureblood pregnancy?"

"What a cheap excuse," Cecilia scoffed.

Valentine's stare stripped away my last shred of hope.

"If you cannot pay," he said flatly, "you will do the time. Ten years in the Silver Prison."

He leaned down. His breath brushed my ear, but the words were ice. "But you are still my wife. Kneel outside this door tonight. Be useful, and maybe I will reconsider the cell."

Before I could fight back, two guards hauled me off the bed. They dragged me out into the hall and shoved me to my knees on the floor.

The door shut. But not before I saw Valentine order a servant to take Luke away, then pull Cecilia close by the waist.

I knelt on that cold stone for ten hours.

Ten hours. Six times, the door opened.

Each time, Valentine ordered me inside.

"Strip the bed."

"Get Cecilia a fresh glass."

"Get our clothes off the floor."

Every single time, I swallowed down the bile in my throat. I kept my head bowed, walking past their tangled bodies to pick up their discarded clothes.

The scent of their intimacy was a physical weight, pressing down on my lungs until I could barely breathe.

Out in the hall, the servants did not even bother whispering.

"The Duchess playing maid. Unbelievable."

"Humans have zero self-respect."

The old butler walked up, holding out a glass of water. His hands shook. "Ma'am, please. Just apologize. He will ease up..."

"No." I did not look up.

Ease up?

Seven years ago, Valentine knelt for three days in the pouring rain outside the Elders' council. He took silver nails through his knees just to keep me alive.

He used to bleed for me. Now, I was just watching him bleed me dry.

After the tenth hour, the sixth time I walked out of that bedroom, I did not kneel back down.

I grabbed the wall and forced myself up. My legs shook violently, but I locked my knees. I stood straight.

I was done.

I walked back to my guest room and pulled the silver blade from my drawer.

A Blood Pact anchored a vampire's soul, but human biology offered a loophole. If a human was willing to endure the agony, they could cut it unilaterally.

I rolled up my sleeve. The dark red rose crest pulsed on my wrist.

I pressed the blade down and sliced.

Blood spilled. A white-hot spike of pain shot up my arm. I bit my lip until I tasted copper, letting the physical agony drown out the lingering ache in my heart.

As the blood drained, the crimson rose withered, turning into a dead, gray scar.

I felt the invisible chain shatter in my chest. A strange, hollow freedom washed over me.

I wrapped a bandage around my wrist, grabbed the gate pass the butler had smuggled me, and walked out.

The hallway was dark.

As I passed a pillar, a small figure stepped out of the shadows.

Luke. He stood there, twisting the hem of his pajamas. His eyes flicked to the bloody bandage on my wrist, going wide with sudden panic.

"Mom..." he whispered, his voice shaking.

I did not stop.

I walked right past him, and I never looked back.