Chapter 325

Olga

A mother’s eye can’t be wrong.

I’ve noticed this for weeks.

The glances across the dinner table. The way they gravitate toward each other in a room full of people. The charged silences that speak louder than words. The way Vivienne’s face softens when Daphne enters a space, and the way Daphne’s eyes follow her like she’s the only person who exists.

I’ve noticed.

I didn’t want to comment on it. Didn’t want to see it. Because seeing it means acknowledging it, and acknowledging it means facing the impossible.

"Shut it."

The head maid stands before me, her expression a mixture of concern and self-righteousness. She’s been with this family for thirty years. She thinks that gives her the right to speak.

"But madam." She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t heed the warning in my voice.

"You know this is wrong. It’s immoral. You can’t let this go on. They’re—"

I don’t think.

My hand moves.

The slap echoes in the drawing room, sharp and final.

She holds her face, stunned into silence.

"Out of respect for the years you’ve invested in this family," I say, my voice cold as winter, "you’re not going to lose your job."

She stares at me, eyes wide.

"Don’t ever bring this up again." I let her see the steel beneath my usual warmth. "Not to me. Not to anyone. Not ever."

"Understood." The word is barely a whisper.

"Leave."

She goes.

I turn to the window once she’s gone, pulling back the heavy curtain.

In my line of sight, through the perfectly manicured garden, I see them.

My daughter. My daughter-in-law-to-be.

Only a fool wouldn’t notice.

It’s so obvious.

There’s nothing outwardly wrong about them—nothing a stranger would clock as unusual. They’re just standing in the garden, talking. Innocent. Normal.

But I see it. The glances that linger a heartbeat too long. The secret smiles that bloom only for each other. The way they look like the rest of the world has fallen away and left only the two of them.

I watch as Daphne laughs at something Vivienne says, her whole face transforming with joy.

My fingers clench the curtain.

"Why do you care?! Just go and be with your precious golden boy! I know you don’t care about me! You never have!"

The memory hits like a slap. Daphne’s voice, raw with teenage fury, hurling words like weapons. I’d deserved them. I’d been so focused on Damien—his future, his career, his importance that I’d forgotten I had two children. Forgotten that my daughter needed me too.

I close my eyes.

It’s only now that our relationship is better. It’s only recently that she doesn’t look at me with hate. Doesn’t flinch from my touch. Doesn’t pull away when I try to hug her.

It was my fault she was self-destructive for so long.

I neglected her.

I failed her.

My fingers tighten against the curtain until my knuckles go white.

I can’t do it.

I won’t.

I won’t be the one to break my daughter’s heart again.

Not again.

Never again.

I let the curtain fall.

*

"Have you thought about settling down?" I ask during dinner, my voice carefully casual.

"There are a couple of Omegas I would like to introduce you to. Lovely young men and women from good families. Very accomplished."

Daphne looks at me from across the table, one eyebrow raised.

"What’s your type? Give me some suggestions to work with." I press on, ignoring Bernard’s slight frown. A mother can hope, can’t she?

"Hmmmnn." She taps her chin, pretending to consider. "Let me think..."

The table waits. Damien looks vaguely uncomfortable. Bernard is already preparing his stern face. Vivienne is very interested in her plate.

"Like my brother, I think." Daphne’s lips twitch. "I like Omegas with pretty eyes. Only I prefer the female ones."

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

Damien’s fork clatters against his plate. Vivienne chokes on nothing. Bernard’s face cycles through several shades of displeasure.

"Daphne." His voice is granite.

"It’s a joke." Daphne’s smile is wide, unrepentant. "Clearly. Lighten up, everyone."

I don’t know why Bernard is acting like this. Damien takes after him, after all the same wandering eyes, the same inability to be satisfied with what he has.

I’m just fortunate that Bernard cares too much about his reputation. No bastard children. No tabloid scandals. If only Damien had inherited that aspect too.

"But I already have my eyes on one." Daphne’s voice is smooth, casual, like she’s discussing the weather. "So don’t trouble yourself, Mother."

Beside me, Vivienne flinches.

It’s barely noticeable—a tiny jerk of her shoulders, a quick intake of breath. Anyone else would miss it.

"Ah?" I keep my voice light, curious. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Daphne lifts her wine glass, takes a slow sip. Her eyes flick to Vivienne for just a moment—brief, but long enough for me to catch.

This is what I mean by obvious.

"It’s sad, really. Our circumstances aren’t exactly ideal."

I should redirect. Should change the subject. Should protect them from Bernard’s scrutiny and Damien’s suspicion.

"Still." I clap my hands together, forcing brightness into my voice. "You should meet these ladies. Who knows? Some may catch your eye."

Daphne’s lips twitch, but she nods graciously. "Perhaps."

Mercifully, Bernard launches into a political discussion with Damien something about upcoming legislation. The tension at the table eases. Vivienne returns to her meal. Daphne sips her wine.

Normal. Safe.

After dinner, I walk through the hallway toward my sitting room.

I pass Damien near the stairs. He’s on his phone, his back turned, his voice low and intimate in a way I’ve never heard him speak to Vivienne.

"No, I miss you too... Yes, I know... Soon, I promise."

I keep walking, it’s obvious it’s that omega lover of his on the phone.I round the corner toward the east wing—

And stop.

Daphne is at the end of the hallway. Moving quietly. Purposefully. Her hand reaches for a door...Vivienne’s door and slips inside without a sound.

I stare at the closed door for a long moment.

I sigh.

I need a drink.