Damian summoned the head of the maids, Lady Cyrene. He felt it was high time to reprimand her for failing to manage her staff’s conduct and discipline.

"Cyrene, how many times must I instruct you to stifle the gossip among the maids?" he asked. "It seems you have grown old, and perhaps it is time for your retirement."

Roman looked back and forth between his father’s stern expression and Lady Cyrene, who stood with her head bowed in a humble silence.

"Roman, come. We are going to ride," Sylvian intervened, ushering the boy away to spare him from the tension in the room.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I will make sure this does not happen again," Cyrene stated, keeping a steady voice despite the reprimand.

"This is the last chance I am giving you," Damian muttered, his fury barely contained. "My son heard such gossip among the servants, even when the Duchess and I had not even fought. It is unacceptable."

"Forgive me," Cyrene apologized once more with a deep bow.

"You may leave," he dismissed her. Once she was gone, he turned his attention back to the newspaper on the table, though his mind was elsewhere. Maurice had still not returned from his mission, and Louis was currently occupied with cross-referencing the data from the reports Damian had seized from the Count.

~~~~~

Henry was busy at his desk, focused on his documents, when a servant approached. "Sir, Prince Sylvian has requested an audience with you."

Henry felt a surge of confusion, quickly followed by a trace of fear. He couldn’t imagine why the Prince would want to see him. Setting his brush aside, he rose and followed the servant to the room where Sylvian was waiting.

The servant knocked softly and pushed the door open, gesturing for Henry to enter. He stepped inside, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as a sign of respect.

"Henry, please, take a seat," Sylvian said.

Henry lifted his head briefly to acknowledge the Prince before crossing the room to the chair opposite him.

"Do you remember me?" Sylvian asked.

"Yes, you’re the second prince of—" Henry began, but Sylvian cut him off.

"Not that, Henry. Your daughter knew me. I once visited your home with Duke Damian," he clarified.

Henry searched his memory for a moment. "I recall now. Forgive me, Your Highness," he said, his gaze dropping back to the floor.

"It is fine," Sylvian said, gesturing for him to relax. "How have you been?"

"I have been well, Your Highness," Henry replied.

"Your son hasn’t," Sylvian replied promptly. "I am referring to Duke Damian. You don’t visit your grandson, either. May I know why?"

Henry licked his dry lips. "I wish I had the strength to see the child who took my daughter’s life. I may sound harsh, but—" He sighed and shook his head. "The Duke of Varos is not my son. Not after he chose to marry again."

"Damian did it for Roman," Sylvian countered. "The boy was suffering in silence. He had no mother, and he had a father who wasn’t even able to look at him."

"If the Duke truly loved my daughter, he would have looked after their son. Instead, he chose to abandon every responsibility," Henry stated, his brow furrowing with resentment.

"Did you not blame Damian five years ago for Liliana’s death? Your words deeply wounded him, sir."

The voice came from behind. Henry turned instantly and saw a woman he didn’t immediately recognize. It was only when his eyes landed on her face that recognition hit him. He rose to his feet, offering a greeting that was nothing more than a cold formality.

"The Duchess knows nothing of the past," Henry said in a dismissive tone.

"No, I don’t. But I know this: your accusations left scars on his heart that refuse to heal. Do you know that Damian still sees Liliana?"

Henry’s brows knitted together. "What does Your Grace mean?"

"Damian has suffered nightmares since the day he lost her. He doesn’t just see her in his sleep; he sees her while he is awake. He loses control of his thoughts, and fear paralyzes him. Sir, your daughter made the choice to bring Roman into this world. Yet, you placed the entire burden of her death on Damian."

Eilika knew her words were harsh, but they were the truth, and it was time he heard them.

"It was an unfortunate incident," Eilika continued. "But the living should not be punished for it. If your daughter were here, would she be happy seeing her father act this way toward the man she loved?"

Her questions struck a painful chord deep in Henry’s chest.

"My daughter was my everything," he whispered, his voice trembling with sudden emotion. "Do you know what her last words to me were? She was so fragile, and the medicines did nothing. Duchess, you may have become a wife, but you can never understand the pain of a parent who has lost their child."

"You are right. I cannot feel that specific pain, but I do know the pain of a child who lost their mother at a tender age. And I also understand the pain of a man haunted by his own past," Eilika stated firmly. "You lost a daughter, and that loss is unbearable. But why punish the son-in-law you once considered a son? Why punish the grandson your daughter gave her life for?"

Henry looked away, but Eilika stepped closer, refusing to let him retreat into his grief.

"Have you ever looked into Roman’s eyes and seen the yearning for a mother in that boy? Loss is something that cannot be measured in words, but that loss should not be used as a weapon against those who are still here. Why must Damian live an unhappy life to pay for a tragedy he couldn’t prevent?"

The room fell silent as Henry’s shoulders slumped. His gaze fixed on nothing as Eilika’s words forced him to confront the damage his resentment had caused.