Chapter 1

Richard Stanton, my husband's father, returned to the manor today with two unexpected guests.

Behind him stood an alluring, elegant woman and a teenage girl, their faces sharing a dead seven-tenths resemblance.

I stood behind Helen Stanton, my husband's mother, keeping my eyes lowered. My husband, Edward Stanton, stood across from me, his gaze entirely glued to the young girl, unable to pull away.

The great hall was crowded, the air heavy and damp like a wet cloth.

Richard was still covered in the dust of his journey, wearing his full armor with his hand resting heavily on the hilt of his sword. His voice grated like a blade scraping against stone.

"Dear, this is Margaret Lane. She will reside in this manor as an equal wife of the house from now on."

He pointed at the older woman.

Helen, the lawful mistress of the Stanton family, did not let her smile falter in the slightest. She even stepped forward, warmly taking Margaret's hand.

"You must be exhausted from the journey, my dear," she said.

I observed the fine lines around her eyes, each one crinkling with perfectly measured delight.

Richard looked entirely satisfied. He then turned his attention to his son, my husband. "Edward, this is Charlotte Lane, Margaret's daughter. She is to be your new bride."

Edward's face flushed instantly, driven by pure excitement rather than shame. He opened his mouth, the words of gratitude nearly spilling from his lips before he swallowed them back, offering a firm nod instead.

No one looked at me.

I stood there like an engraving on the hall pillars, a physical presence without a single shred of value.

Richard was marrying the mother, and Edward was marrying the daughter. Helen and I were mother and daughter by marriage. On this single day, the vast Stanton Manor held two grand weddings.

It was quite the celebration.

I twisted my hands tightly within my sleeves, my nails digging into my flesh without registering a single trace of pain.

Helen raised her voice, lacing it with the bright excitement of a wedding host. "This is wonderful news. It is a true blessing that Richard and Edward are expanding the family line."

She turned to instruct the steward. "Prepare the banquet. Bring up the twenty-year-old vintage wine from the cellar."

Then she took my hand. Her touch was warm and steady.

She whispered, "Grace, don't stand there. Go to the storehouse and bring out the fresh batches of Royal Brocade and Imperial Silk we received the other day. Have new gowns made for Mrs. Lane and her daughter. Use the finest fabrics. Spare no expense."

I looked up and met her eyes.

Her gaze glowed with the sweetness of a spring afternoon, yet catching her eye sent a deadening chill straight through my veins.

I gave a numb nod.

"Yes," I said.

I turned and made my way toward the storehouse. The brass keys hung at my waist, heavy enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

As I passed Edward, he didn't spare me a single glance. His entire being was captivated by Charlotte. She kept her head bowed, her cheeks a rosy hue, her eyes darting up to steal shy, affectionate glances at him.

He wanted her, and she was more than willing.

I was entirely obsolete.

I pushed open the heavy doors of the storehouse, greeted by the rich scent of aged cedar. Rolls of silk were stacked perfectly, giving off a soft, lustrous glow in the dim light.

I stood there for a long time.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Should I weep, or should I cause a scene?

Yet I had no desire to cry, as if my tears had completely dried up today. Making a scene would achieve absolutely nothing. Richard commanded the army, and Edward was the unquestionable heir to the title. They held absolute power over this household.

My sole purpose was to manage the estate and play the role of the submissive, virtuous wife.

Now, Edward was taking a new bride.

I walked slowly into the room, running my fingers over the cold silks. Each piece was worth a fortune. These were treasures that the vast wealth my family provided upon my marriage could not even buy.

Helen told me to fetch the best.

I pulled out a roll of the most extravagant Royal Brocade, patterned with golden peacocks. The metallic threads glimmered in the shadows, stinging my eyes.

I carried it out of the storehouse as if I were holding a burning iron.