“What?”

Investigator Nathan blinked, unsure whether he had heard correctly.

Maeve repeated herself in the same flat tone.

“I’m Maeve Amaranth. I understand a complaint has been filed against me for domestic violence. I’m here to give my statement as the accused.”

“Ah… the Marchioness of Amaranth.”

Nathan exhaled quietly.

Although she wasn’t quite on the same level as the Empire’s First Lady, Maeve had once been one of the most admired women in high society. A glamorous figure, she had rose-gold hair and cool, intelligent blue eyes.

She had impeccable manners and a refined fashion sense, and she always stood with perfect posture. People called her proud and difficult, but no one could deny that she was captivating.

Now, the woman before him was a shadow of her former self: She was withered, frail and drained of color, as though she had forgotten how to live.

Nathan had heard rumors about the recent scandals involving the Amaranth family, but seeing the subject of them in person made a strange impression on him.

Shaking off his thoughts, he gestured politely.

“Please wait in the interview room on the left. The assigned investigator will be with you shortly.”

“I understand.”

Maeve nodded weakly, then added, almost as an afterthought,

“Oh, and one more thing. I also have testimony to give regarding my husband’s charge, the one for attempted filicide. I’ll give my statement immediately afterward.”

Her pale blue eyes, dulled by grief, suddenly glinted cold.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

The Marchioness of Amaranth provided crucial testimony.

She stated that her husband had obtained a copy of their daughter’s financial records from the Ministry of Finance. She hadn’t seen the document itself, as it was locked in his private vault, but issuance records from the ministry could confirm its existence.

The day after His Majesty’s coronation, a royal proposal was sent to the Amaranth household.

Upon hearing this, her husband had gone pale with shock.

When Maeve asked him why, he only muttered, “It’s not too late. We can still fix this,” in a cryptic tone.

Sure enough, their daughter later accused her husband of orchestrating an assassination.

He must have ordered the hit before the proposal reached them.

He probably didn’t issue the order himself, but if his closest aides were interrogated, they would confess.

Her testimony was the turning point in the investigation.

Until then, the Special Investigation Division had only summoned Marquis Amaranth as a formality. They hadn’t truly interrogated him, only doing enough to appear to follow procedure, confident that they could quietly sweep the matter aside.

This confidence evaporated when the suspect’s wife corroborated the victim’s claims.

Not only did her statement align with Lydia’s accusations, but it also provided crucial additional details about the motive and sequence of events.

At the very least, the authorities now had to investigate two things: whether the Marquis had obtained his daughter’s financial records, and whether his subordinates knew anything about the assassination plot.

Around the same time, the Blair ducal house formally lodged a complaint with the Bureau of Internal Affairs.

The Duke’s representatives accused the investigators of refusing to accept clear confessions as evidence.

If the reason was that the assassins had been tortured while in Blair’s custody, were they implying that the Duke had fabricated the confessions?

They demanded a direct statement of the bureau’s position.

They argued that the duke had nearly died protecting the victim, only to be defamed as if he were framing her father. The insult was intolerable.

They also claimed that the Marquis of Amaranth had colluded with certain Bureau officials, formally requesting an ethics investigation.

Soon after, several of the Marquis’s close associates were detained by the Central Security Bureau, including his steward, bodyguards, senior aides, Viscount Roengrin and Baron Collins.

Desperate for leniency, Kyle tried to reach Commissioner Genard.

However, Genard refused to meet him. He even returned the bribes he had previously accepted, silently signalling that the Marquis was now beyond reproach.

Interrogations ran day and night. Many of Kyle’s men were tortured.

At first, they denied everything. Then, slowly, the truth began to emerge.

The Marquis had found out where his daughter was around six months ago.

He had originally intended to inherit her fortune three years after her disappearance, once she could be declared legally dead.

However, when he discovered that she was planning to transfer her assets into another name, he acted swiftly, ordering the assassination before he could lose everything.

When the royal proposal arrived, he tried to call off the hit, but it was already too late.

Their confessions overturned his earlier claim: “I didn’t even know where my daughter was. How could I have sent assassins after her?”

Commissioner Genard, watching the case unfold, discreetly warned Kyle one last time.

A warrant for his arrest could be issued any day now. He should prepare himself.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

Marquis Amaranth was a constant irritation to Daniel.

Part of him wanted to destroy the entire family for what they had done to Lydia. However, for the sake of his child’s future, he could not destroy them completely.

In the past, he had chosen compromise.

The Marquis and his wife would eventually die in an ‘accident’, but their son, Robert, would be spared until Lydia’s child was firmly established as heir.

However, the Marchioness had become more cunning.

She planned to reject the royal proposal after her husband’s death, once her son became the new head of the house.

When Daniel read the letter she had written to Robert, he couldn’t help but laugh.

‘How delightfully foolish.’

It was amusing, but not something he could ignore.

The next head of the Amaranth family could cause trouble, particularly if he were as devoted to his mother as Robert was said to be.

In the capital’s social circles, his devotion to his mother was a frequent topic of humour. His fiancée, Lady Adella Vener, was said to call him a ‘mama’s boy’ in exasperation.

Daniel therefore revised his plans drastically.

He decided that Robert had to be eliminated before the Marquis and his wife.

So far, everything was proceeding according to plan.

The daughter had accused both her parents. The Marchioness had turned herself in. The Marquis still denied all charges, but his guilt would soon be proven.

Once both parents had been imprisoned, the girl would be left alone. Without a powerful guardian, an heiress had always been easy prey.

Throughout history, those far removed from inheritance lines or unable to secure titles of their own have often sought to forcefully marry such women, disguising abductions as marriages.

The nobility would never have allowed her to leave their world and live freely.

This was why Daniel had sent his proposal unofficially — it was a calculated move.

The Marquis, for his part, had chosen to keep the matter quiet for his own reasons.

How long could a woman driven into a corner survive on her own?

Ultimately, she would have no choice but to turn to him.

Until then, he had no intention of telling her anything: not that he was planning to thwart any real kidnapping attempts, nor that he was going to ensure her father never left prison alive.

The mere thought of possessing her stirred something bright and feverish within him.

Tomorrow, he would finally see her again at the Ilios Temple.

It had been two long years since their last meeting.

During that time, he had contented himself with second-hand reports of her well-being and the occasional portrait, each one stirring a restless longing.

Now he would see her face again, not on canvas, but in person.

What did she look like now? How would she react when their eyes met?

Feeling a mixture of anticipation and unease, Daniel allowed himself to imagine the moment of their reunion.

He lowered his gaze and carefully reviewed the documents on his desk: a set of offers and negotiations that he had prepared meticulously and designed to be irresistible.

There was a knock at the door.

“Your Majesty,” came the attendant’s voice, “the Dowager Duchess Rachel Blair requests an audience.”

Daniel’s lips curved into a crooked smile.

His old wet nurse, who had attended his mother, had not sought him out once since the death of the late Empress Nevira.

The fact that she had chosen to appear now could hardly be a coincidence.

He could already guess her purpose: a lecture full of moral reproach, no doubt.

Nevertheless, he was pleased to see her.

If the duchess herself had come forward, it meant that the duke had failed; he hadn’t won Lydia’s heart after all.

“Show her in.”

Daniel said with quiet satisfaction.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

From early morning, the temple was bustling with activity.

Noblemen and their families arrived for the weekend service, while devotees came to volunteer and the poor gathered at the gates, hoping to receive food.

The entire complex — the sanctuary, the prayer hall, the reception chambers, and even the kitchens — was filled to capacity with people.

The sounds of clerics preaching, nobles conversing, beggars crying out for food and holy knights reprimanding troublemakers blended into a constant, low roar.

From the second-floor corridor, Lydia gazed out of the window at the commotion below.

She usually preferred silence, but today, the noise was oddly comforting.

Facing Daniel was not something she could easily do.

Just imagining it made her chest tighten and her hands tremble.

As the Second Prince, he had been unbearable enough: overbearing, possessive and impossible to resist.

But it was his power as Emperor that truly frightened her now.

Now, that same man had become Emperor and was wielding absolute power.

If anything, he would be even more overbearing than before.

Lydia sighed softly, rolling the beads of her rosary bracelet between her fingers. All she could hope for was that their conversation would go smoothly.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

Accompanied by his secretary, two attendants and twenty royal guards, Daniel arrived at the Ilios Temple at around noon.

For an imperial visit, it was a modest procession.

But the moment the emperor dismounted, silence fell over the temple’s front gate.

Those distributing food to the poor, as well as the hungry beggars waiting in line, all froze in place and stared in awe.

Then, as if on cue, they all knelt and cried out in unison.

“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”
“Glory to Daniel III, the Sun of the Empire!”
“May the gods bless His Majesty!”

Their cheers echoed through the courtyard, filled with genuine reverence.

To many, the young and striking emperor was a symbol of renewal and strength. Whatever dark rumors had once shadowed him had long since faded.

Lydia’s expression tightened faintly.

Daniel smiled faintly in response to the people’s adoration, returning their bows and exchanging a few words with those nearest to him.

Each time he spoke, his subjects gazed up at him as though entranced.

Steadying her breath, Lydia straightened her posture and descended the stairs.

Each step felt heavier than the last, her knees stiff with dread.

By the time she reached the first floor, Daniel had already started to look around.

The instant his gaze found her, his eyes rippled with emotion. His formerly relaxed face contorted into a mixture of relief, yearning, joy, unease, pity and anger.

Lydia approached him, her expression composed but rigid.

Daniel did not move. He merely watched her, showing no sign of dragging her away by force — at least not yet.

She stopped three steps away, lowered her gaze and waited.

As was proper etiquette, the higher-ranking of the two spoke first.

“It’s been a long time, Arwen.”

“I greet Your Majesty.”

Her voice was calm, distant.

Daniel’s lips curved faintly, tinged with irony.

“You no longer call me by name.”

“It would be improper to speak the Emperor’s name so lightly.”

Her reply was polite, but lacked warmth.

Their formal exchange drew glances from nearby onlookers.

Unwilling to attract gossip, Daniel changed the subject.

“Perhaps we should talk somewhere more private.”

“I’d prefer to speak in the rear garden, if that pleases Your Majesty.”

“Very well.”

Lydia tightened her grip on her rosary bracelet and took the lead.

Daniel followed behind her at a measured distance. His attendants started to follow them but stopped when ordered to wait by the rear gate.

The temple’s back garden was simple compared to the lavish gardens of palaces and noble estates.

Clusters of green shrubs and small wildflowers grew unevenly alongside the path. The only ornamentation was a marble fountain with an angel statue at its center.

Four benches lined the shaded walkway.

Lydia stepped aside slightly, gesturing for Daniel to sit first.

He took a seat on the bench furthest to the right. Lydia sat on the next bench along, close enough for conversation, but with enough space between them.

From here, they could still be seen by the temple knights at the rear gate, though their words would not carry far.

‘She would rather die than be shut alone in a room with me.’

Daniel thought this, giving a quiet, mirthless chuckle.

He found her guarded demeanor amusing rather than angering.

Lydia didn’t bother hiding her discomfort. Her tone was brisk, and her expression was unreadable.

“What brings His Majesty, so burdened by affairs of state, to see me? If it’s about the extravagant gifts from two years ago, I’ve already completed the transfer of ownership through the Ministry of Finance.”

Her voice was icy, devoid of the faintest trace of affection.

As though to say beyond settling accounts, there’s no reason for us to ever meet again.