He had been told that all three Peyton brothers had arrived at the estate. Instead of visiting their brother-in-law, the head of the household, however, they had gone straight to their sister.

Without hesitation, Kieron rose from his seat and went to find the brothers, who had chosen to visit the duchess’s sitting room rather than see him.

“All three went to the duchess’s parlor?”

“Yes, they said that His Excellency did not need to be seen, as they had business with the lady.”

“So they come to this estate and refuse to see its master…”

What a remarkably considerate gesture!

Kieron gave a warped, humorless smile in response to Derrick’s reply.

His brothers-in-law had never liked him.

In their eyes, he was nothing more than a man whose life had been bought by their sister’s stubbornness — a freeloader who had taken a lot and given nothing in return. Practically a thief.

And it was all unfair.

It wasn’t his fault that Ariadne had collapsed the day they first met.

He had never asked for the generous dowry that came with the marriage, that had been the Marquis of Peyton’s desperate attempt to persuade him to accept the marriage proposal after he had firmly refused.

Yet, in the eyes of her brothers, Kieron had always been guilty.

A sinner.

A thief.

They treated him lightly and dismissively, ignoring him and discarding even the most basic courtesy.

The unease that had stirred when he learned that the Peytons were visiting now plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

Why had these men, who hadn’t visited once since the wedding, suddenly shown up?

He didn’t know. But there was one thing he was certain of: They would not be leaving his estate with anything he had not permitted.

Resolved, he entered the sitting room adjoining Ariadne’s chambers.

“More importantly, Rene. Is it true that Duke Ambrose still hasn’t received recognition from the Council of Elders?”

Those words shredded what little remained of his already sinking mood.

Peyton knew?

Peyton knew he had not yet been recognized by the Council?

How in the world?

“When the letter you sent yesterday arrived, we were all there. Father told me to go and confirm it myself.”

From that point on, he knew exactly where things had gone wrong.

Ariadne Ambrose had made a mistake.

He should have realized yesterday when she stood before him with such a fragile expression that she seemed as if she might disappear at any moment.

He hadn’t said anything because he was worried.

He was worried that she might faint again.

The look on her face had unsettled him so much that he had forgotten to correct her.

At the very least, he should have warned her this morning.

Regret tightened in his chest as Kieron clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles ached.

But even so—

For an internal family issue to leak outside on the same day of all days, and for Marquis Peyton to hear about it so quickly…

Kieron forced down the bitter laugh that rose in his throat.

“If it’s true, it’s unbelievably shameless. Do you know how much we spent back then to win over the Council? How much information we paid to gather?”

“I heard it wasn’t just brother Hes’s personal funds. Father and our eldest brother put in quite a bit too. If it’s true, Rene… this is practically a problem between families.”

Regardless of what Kieron might have been thinking outside the room, the brothers continued speaking without pause.

He had threatened Franz the previous day, using Marquis Peyton’s name as leverage, but that didn’t mean he actually wanted the marquis to find out about it.

If the marquis found out, it wouldn’t only be a matter of reclaiming what the Council had taken.

A far greater issue would be the doubt that would be cast on Kieron’s ability to protect his own household.

After all, as the brothers were now saying, the Marquis had spared no expense to ensure his daughter would live a safer, more secure life after her marriage.

If one were to total everything — the gifts, wealth, and privileges handed out to Council members — it would probably rival the grandeur of a royal marriage.

And that was only the beginning. Then there were the business privileges and shipping rights transferred to the ducal house, not to mention the dowry entrusted to Ariadne personally.

To marry off a single daughter, Marquis Peyton had poured an astronomical sum into the arrangement. And, in exchange, the only thing he had ever demanded was perfectly reasonable:

His daughter’s safety.

Her stability.

Her happiness.

And yet Kieron had failed to reclaim even half of the family head’s authority, which should have been returned to him when he got married. This left Ariadne neglected for over two years.

The fact that he still had not been granted the full rights of the family head by the Council spoke for itself.

Yes, the Council deserved blame for breaking its promise. However, he would inevitably be criticized for failing to reclaim what was rightfully his all this time.

The House of Ambrose itself had become the problem.

Kieron felt as though the ground had vanished beneath his feet.

From the moment he was born, people had doubted him. They always demanded proof and results, expecting him to validate things that should have been his by right.

His parents had neglected him.

When his grandfather took him in, he handed all authority to the Council on the grounds that Kieron was too young. But what if he wanted those rights back?

The Council demanded that he prove himself.

So he went to war while still a boy. He survived the battlefield and returned home, only to be forced into marriage and pressured to produce an heir.

No rest.

No pause.

Just relentless pressure, over and over again.

Even now, it was his wife who was pushing him.

She wanted to know why, despite the family’s wealth, the authority of the head of the family still lay with the Council.

Even worse, she had encouraged her brothers and father to demand the same.

His mind went cold.

It felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him, freezing him from the inside out.

Kieron had learned from experience that when he became angry, he didn’t burn — he froze.

On the battlefield. In every moment when others doubted him, provoked him, or humiliated him, just so they could get what they needed.

That cold, hollow numbness was all too familiar.

And now, he placed the blame squarely on Ariadne.

On that foolish, thoughtless woman who had run to her family and told them everything without sparing a moment to consider her husband’s dignity.

“I was wondering why no one was coming. So this is where you all are.”

With those words, he opened the door and stepped inside. If he heard even one more word of their conversation, he felt certain he would explode.

The moment he entered, he felt every pair of eyes turn towards him; sharp, startled gazes crashed into him all at once.

Most of all, Ariadne Ambrose’s.

“You didn’t expect me to come? You all look rather surprised.”

“We didn’t come here to see our brother-in-law. We came to see our sister.”

When his icy gaze swept over the siblings, the youngest and most taciturn of them, Heidel Peyton, answered. His voice was as unfeeling as his personality.

Kieron ignored him and turned instead to Hern, the eldest and seemingly most composed.

“That still doesn’t justify ignoring the head of the house and going straight to the duchess.”

“We did not ignore you. We simply heard that you were terribly busy, that is all.”

However, his composure did not make him any easier to deal with. He was the son of Marquis Peyton and, despite his polite manner, not the type of man to back down.

Kieron lifted the corner of his mouth in a derisive smile.

“No matter how busy I am, my brothers-in-law have come. I can spare a moment. I’m not so cold-hearted that I can’t do even that.”

“How would we know whether you’re cold-hearted or not? We’ve barely seen your face a handful of times these past few years.”

The second brother, Hermes, shrugged.

Of the three brothers, he had the sharpest tongue, and he did so with the air of someone who was completely convinced that they had done nothing wrong.

But what Kieron found most grating and infuriating of all was Ariadne Ambrose, who was staring at him with her perpetually startled expression.

“Were you the one who called them?”

“…I didn’t call them, but in the end, that’s how it turned out.”

“We said we would come to see Rene and speak to her. Strictly speaking, it was Father who sent us.”

“I was speaking to my wife, Hermes Peyton.”

Hermes Peyton stepped forward as if to shield Ariadne, but Kieron cut him off in one stroke.

“I asked you, my lady. Are you the one who started all of this?”

He was furious; to him, this matter was strictly between a husband and his wife.

He didn’t realize how cold his voice had become, or how it would sound to the Peyton brothers, who adored their sister obsessively.

“…I understand that you’re angry. But I believed someone had to set this right.”

“Set what right? Your husband’s appalling incompetence?”

“The Council’s dereliction of duty, Your Grace! That was the promise before the marriage, wasn’t it? The Council hasn’t kept a single part of it.”

Ariadne cried out, her face expressing desperation.

But that did nothing to absolve her. In fact, it only made him think that she had gone too far and ruined everything.

“And even so, this is not something you should have meddled in.”

His tone grew colder and colder, and the air in the room dropped with it. Even as Ariadne’s face went deathly pale, Kieron could not stop.

“I could have handled it well enough. Do you really not see that you’ve made me look incompetent?”

“Your words go too far, Your Grace.”

“This is between my wife and me, Peyton.”

Heidel, standing at her side, bristled, but Kieron dismissed him just as curtly.

At that moment, the one who had stayed silent the whole time—Hern Peyton—finally spoke.

“If you didn’t want anyone else to step in, you should have moved elsewhere from the start, Your Grace.”

His voice was still heavy and composed, but Kieron, a fellow soldier, could hear the anger beneath it all too clearly.

He turned his gaze on Hern.

“Then you should have sent word properly and arranged a visit, instead of charging in here on the strength of rumors that haven’t even been verified.”

“Duke Ambrose.”

“Next time, make an appointment first. If you truly wish for your sister to live here in peace.”

Kieron left those final words behind, turned on his heel, and walked out — though not before giving Ariadne, who was as pale as snow, one last, sharp, cutting glare.

Whether her expression changed or not no longer mattered to him.

The priority now was to stop this disaster from getting any worse.

If he had to threaten the Council, he would.

If he had to invoke Marquis Peyton’s name again, so be it.

One way or another, he would put an end to this.