Chapter 3

I was born a Hughes, my standing far above Edward's. Had I not once believed every sweet word he fed me, I would never have married beneath myself or tied my life to his. And yet here I was, enduring this humiliation in my own home.

I neither turned back nor spoke in my own defense. Instead, I kept walking, my steps measured but faster now, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Inside, the servants stood in tense silence, heads lowered, as though even the smallest sound might draw unwanted attention.

I dismissed them with a glance and set to work myself. The coffee was freshly brewed, the pastries arranged with care, and from the cellar I chose the finest bottle we had. Once everything was in place, I lifted the tray with steady hands and made my way back out.

When I stepped back into the courtyard, I found Aurora already seated at the stone table, Edward by her side, speaking in quiet tones. Her laughter rang out, bright and full.

The sight stung more than I cared to admit.

I walked over slowly, holding the tray with steady hands, and placed it on the table. "Your Highness, Edward, the coffee and snacks are ready."

Aurora shot me a glance but didn't speak.

She reached for the cup, but as her hand neared it, she purposefully let it slip. With a flick of her wrist, the cup tipped, and the scalding coffee splashed out, hitting my hand.

The pain was immediate and sharp, my skin reddening in an instant, blisters already starting to form.

Aurora jumped to her feet, feigning concern, her face showing a touch of false guilt, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her. "Oh no, how clumsy of me. Lady Payne, are you alright?"

Edward was on his feet in a heartbeat, rushing to me, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Charlotte, are you okay? Does it hurt?"

For a split second, I felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe he still cared.

But then, just as quickly, he stopped.

He turned to Aurora, his tone softening, almost chastising her. "Your Highness, you really should be more careful. What if you burned yourself?"

And just like that, any trace of hope vanished.

It was clear now. His concern had never been for me.

His only priority had always been Aurora and the power and status she could give him.

I looked at the two of them, his concern hollow and hers undisguised amusement. All at once, the whole scene struck me as faintly ridiculous.

What felt more laughable, though, was myself. I had once taken Edward at his word, believed every carefully chosen promise, convinced I had married a man worth trusting.

Slowly, I drew my hand back. From my sleeve, I took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the coffee on my skin, as though it were nothing more than an inconvenience. When I spoke, my voice was level, stripped of any emotion. "It's nothing. Just a minor burn."

Aurora studied me, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes before it hardened into displeasure.

She had expected a reaction like pain, outrage, perhaps even a scene. My composure, it seemed, disappointed her.

"Well, as long as you're fine," she said at last, settling back into her seat, her tone slipping easily into its usual imperious ease. "Edward, let's not waste any more time. I'd hate for our mood to be spoiled by distractions."

Edward nodded at once, all attention returning to her. He lifted the pot and poured her another cup with careful attentiveness, as though nothing else in the world required notice. I might as well not have been standing there at all, my hand still throbbing.

I remained where I was for a moment, watching them carry on as though they were alone, laughing, exchanging quiet remarks, entirely at ease.

Something in my chest tightened, the pain sharp and insistent, like a blade drawn slowly across flesh, until even breathing felt like an effort.