The Regent's Betrayal

The scent of incense hung heavy in the ancestral hall, a grim prelude to the confession Eleanor Hayes was about to hear. Her husband, Arthur, the Duke Regent she had adored for years, was taking Clara Miller-her adopted "sister"-as a concubine. In his "kindness," her late father had brought the healer Clara into their home, and this was her repayment: shattering Eleanor's three-year marriage.

The betrayal escalated when Arthur not only sided with Clara but, upon learning of Clara's pregnancy, shockingly demoted Eleanor to a mere concubine. The ultimate indignity struck when he falsely accused her of poisoning Clara and then, with chilling indifference, demanded she sacrifice her own flesh and blood to create an antidote. His past tenderness curdled into icy cruelty, stripping away her dignity with every word, every biased decision.

How could the man who had raised her, the "Uncle" she had loved since childhood, inflict such pain? The very person who swore to protect her was now demanding her mutilation, leaving her reeling from a betrayal so profound it felt like a physical wound. What dark secret lay behind this monstrous transformation?

With her heart shattered, Eleanor made her choice. Drawing on the strength of her Vance legacy, she accepted the divorce, abandoned her broken marriage, and volunteered to lead her family' s army north against the barbarian invasion-a desperate bid for purpose beyond her personal ruin.

In the Vance Family Estate' s ancestral hall, the air was thick with the scent of incense. It was a heavy, somber smell that clung to the dark wood and the stone tablets bearing the names of the fallen.

"Eleanor, it' s clear the Duke has made up his mind, taking Clara Miller as a concubine is just a matter of time."

Michael Vance' s voice was low, laced with a bitterness that seemed to echo in the quiet hall. He sat in his wheelchair, his hands gripping the wooden armrests so tightly his knuckles were white.

"It' s a joke, isn' t it? Father dies in battle, and in his kindness, he adopts that healer, Clara Miller. And this is how she repays him, by destroying your marriage with the Duke."

Each word was a blow to Eleanor Hayes' s heart. She managed a small, tight smile that didn' t reach her eyes. She had known Arthur Hayes for more than twenty years, from the days she was a child calling him 'Uncle' to the moment she crossed every social line to become his wife. She knew what he looked like when he loved her, so she recognized the absence of that love the moment it vanished.

She just never thought it would vanish at all. They had fought through so much to be together, only for it to crumble after three short years.

She looked at her brother, Michael, confined to his chair. The sight of him was a constant, aching reminder of their family' s sacrifice. Ten years ago, the Battle of Graystone Pass had claimed their parents and their three older brothers. Only Michael had survived, but the war had left him permanently crippled. They were all each other had left.

She couldn' t let him worry for her, not now. "Michael, don' t worry, I' ve already made my decision."

Her voice was steady, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her.

"The Northern Barbarians are invading the border again, the Emperor has already agreed to my divorce from Arthur. I' m just waiting to gather the military supplies, then I will lead the army north to fight."

Michael' s fingers dug deeper into the wood of his wheelchair. His handsome face was a mask of pain. "Eleanor! We' re the only ones left in the Vance family. If something happens to you, how am I supposed to live on my own?"

His grief was a physical weight, pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe. Eleanor' s own fingers clenched at her sides, and she fought back the burn of tears in her eyes.

"Michael, you and I both know what the Vance name means. Fighting for our country is our family' s glory, and defending the people on the border is the mission we were born for."

All the fight seemed to drain out of Michael at once. He slumped back against his chair, defeated. The siblings looked at each other in a heavy silence, the air filled only with their shared heartache.

When Eleanor finally left the estate, stepping out into the swirling wind and snow, her eyes were red.

She saw him waiting for her at a distance. Arthur Hayes stood there, a tall figure in a dark, nine-dragon robe, his cloak dusted with a layer of fresh snow. He was handsome in a way that seemed to set him apart from other men.

As she approached, the indifference in his eyes melted away, replaced by an emotion reserved only for her.

"Why did you take so long? Doesn' t Michael know I' m waiting for you out here in the cold?"

He stepped forward, his voice a low murmur of concern. "Why do you look so pale? Are you hungry?" He tilted his head, his gaze softening. "And why are your eyes red?"

He took her hand, his brow furrowing when he felt the coldness of her fingertips. Without a second thought, he pulled her hand into his own embrace, tucking it inside his heavy cloak to warm it against his chest.

He was so thoughtful, so caring. Eleanor should have been happy.

But as he drew her close, she smelled it again. That same familiar incense from the ancestral hall, but this time it was mixed with something else, a faint perfume she knew too well. Looking closer, she saw that the collar of his robe was slightly askew. Just below his neck, almost hidden in the shadows, were the faint crimson marks of a kiss.

She had only been gone for an hour. An hour away at her family home, and he couldn' t even wait that long before being with Clara Miller.

Eleanor raised her hand, her movements slow and deliberate, and gently straightened his collar, hiding the marks from view.

"Uncle," she said, her voice quiet. "If we hadn' t gotten married back then..."

Before she could finish, Arthur' s face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about?" His voice was sharp. "I raised you myself. Are you telling me you regret marrying me now?"

Twenty years ago, when the Northern Barbarians first invaded, her entire family had gone to war. Even twelve-year-old Michael had marched to the battlefield. The vast Vance estate was left empty, except for a small, lonely Eleanor. Arthur Hayes, the regent and a friend of her father, had taken pity on her and brought her to the palace.

He had raised her for ten years while the war raged on. For ten years, she had studied and trained in martial arts alongside the Crown Prince, and just like the Crown Prince, she had called Arthur 'Uncle' . And in those ten years, she had fallen hopelessly in love with the man who was only six years older than her.

Maybe she should have crushed that love back then. Maybe she should have been content to call him 'Uncle' forever.

Eleanor just smiled and shook her head. "I' m just kidding."

She turned and climbed into the carriage first, not waiting for him. They rode back to the Duke' s Mansion in silence.

Halfway there, the carriage stopped abruptly. Arthur' s personal guard, Ethan, appeared at the window, his expression grave. "Your Grace, there' s an urgent matter at the Ministry of Revenue. They ask that you come at once."

"So careless and rude, what a disgrace," Arthur muttered, scolding Ethan, but his eyes were filled with an undeniable worry.

After the Crown Prince ascended the throne, Arthur had returned most of his political power as Duke Regent. He now held only a minor post at the Ministry of Revenue. For him to be so anxious, it could only mean one thing. He was anxious to see her stepsister-Clara Miller.

Eleanor' s faint smile didn' t waver. "Uncle, you should go. But since you' re breaking your promise to see me home, don' t forget what we agreed on."

Arthur' s lips curved into a rare, gentle smile. He reached out and poked the tip of her nose. "You little imp. Forget one gold ingot, I' d give you hundreds or thousands."

It was their old joke. Whenever Eleanor got angry, Arthur would give her a gold ingot as an apology. The game was that if she ever collected one hundred gold ingots, she would leave him forever.

She was now just seven ingots short.

This gold was the last of the funds she needed for the army, the money that would allow her to march north. The day she collected the full amount would be the day she officially divorced Arthur Hayes and left for the war.

Arthur Hayes didn't sense the finality in her tone at all. He had Ethan hand Eleanor a heavy gold ingot and then left in a hurry, his carriage disappearing down the snowy street.

The next time Eleanor saw him was the following day. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, but he entered her study with a radiant look on his face.

Eleanor hadn't slept. She had spent the entire night hunched over the border defense map, her eyes red and strained from a lack of sleep. In the past, Arthur would have been the first to notice her fatigue, the first to fuss over her and make her rest.

But now, he didn't even seem to see it. He walked right up to her, ignoring her tired expression, and took her hand.

"You' ve seemed so worried lately," he said, his voice bright. "I ran into your stepsister on my way back to the mansion. I was thinking, why don' t I have her move in to keep you company?"

Before Eleanor could even respond, he continued, "The East Pavilion is vacant, isn' t it? I' ll have her live there."

So, the decision was already made. He wasn' t asking for her permission, he was just informing her.

Fortunately, Eleanor no longer cared.

She looked at him, her gaze deep and her voice rising slightly, devoid of any warmth. "Alright. The East Pavilion is conveniently close to your study, Duke. That way you can take good care of my stepsister for me."

Her expression and her tone were perfectly normal, yet for a split second, it made Arthur panic. A flicker of unease crossed his face, but he suppressed it just as quickly and pulled her into an embrace with a smile.

"Clara is your sister. No matter what, I won' t mistreat her."

Eleanor leaned against his chest, feeling the familiar warmth of his body. He was still the man she loved, but her heart felt nothing. It was as still and cold as the winter outside.

Clara Miller moved in that very day.

That evening, she appeared at Eleanor' s study with her maid in tow, her face streaked with tears.

"Sister, did I do something to offend you?" she sobbed, her voice trembling. "Otherwise, why would the jade hairpin my deceased mother left me go missing the moment I moved in?"

Her words hung in the air, a clear accusation that Eleanor was mistreating her. The servants standing by kept their heads down, not daring to speak.

Eleanor couldn' t be bothered with such childish games. "Then you should go investigate how you lost it yourself. What does that have to do with me?"

She was busy with military planning and wanted Clara to leave so she could get back to work. But just as she was about to dismiss her, a servant announced from the doorway.

"The Duke is here."

Arthur strode into the room, and Eleanor immediately saw his gaze land on Clara. His expression was a mixture of pity, worry, and comfort.

Sure enough, the next moment, Eleanor heard his voice, sharp with accusation.

"You agreed to let your sister move in this morning. What is all this fuss about now?"

Eleanor frowned, but before she could even form a response, Clara fell to her knees, her eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Sister, if it were any other item, no matter how precious, I would gladly give it to you," she cried. "But this jade hairpin is the only memento my mother left me. Please, Sister, just give it back to me."

Arthur' s face was etched with disappointment. "Eleanor, what did I teach you when you were a child?" His voice was cold. "A gentleman does not act without purpose, and his actions are always righteous. How can you mistreat her out of jealousy?"

He reached into his robe and pulled out a gold ingot, holding it out to her. "If you' re short on money, I will give it to you."

In just a few words, without even hearing her side of the story, he had condemned her. He had decided she was guilty of mistreating her stepsister.

Eleanor stared at the gold ingot in his hand, a strange blankness settling over her. She remembered a time when, even if she had a petty argument with the Crown Prince, Arthur would always stand up for her first.

Did he really love Clara Miller this much now?

Her fingers tightened into a fist at her side. "May I ask, Uncle, what I could possibly be jealous of? I have everything I could ever want. Why would I steal her hairpin?"

"Of course, it' s because I' m carrying the Duke' s child..."

Clara' s words tumbled out before Arthur could stop her.

"Silence!" he snapped, his voice sharp and angry.

But it was too late. Eleanor had heard.

So that was it. That was why he was so desperate to make Clara his concubine, why he had even gone to her brother Michael. Clara was pregnant. He was anxious to give his child a legitimate name.

Clara flinched at Arthur' s sharp rebuke, and tears began to stream down her face again. But this time, Arthur didn' t look at her. Instead, he turned to Eleanor, his voice softening into a gentle, coaxing tone.

"Eleanor, it' s just a hairpin."

He tried to reason with her. "Just give it back to her, and let' s not make a fuss, alright?"

His words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over her head, instantly extinguishing the last embers of anger in her heart. If he still believed she was the one causing trouble after all this, then there was nothing left to say.

Eleanor' s lips pulled into a smile that held no humor. "Alright, I won' t make a fuss. So, Duke, how do you plan to deal with me, this Duchess who 'mistreated her stepsister' ?"

Arthur raised a hand and rubbed his temples, thinking for a moment. "Starting today, you will no longer manage the household. Let Clara take your place."

Eleanor listened, feeling no heartache, only a sense of the absurd. She was leaving soon anyway, so it didn' t matter to her who managed the Duke' s Mansion. But she couldn' t help but wonder.

What was Clara Miller' s status that she could manage the mansion in her place? A concubine? Or just an outsider?

As if he could read her thoughts, Arthur turned to the servants and announced, "The Duchess is unwell. My stepsister, Clara Miller, will manage the household on her behalf."

The servants all bowed their heads, not daring to question him. "Yes, Your Grace."

Finally, everyone else left the room, leaving just the three of them. Clara Miller stepped forward, a triumphant smirk on her face, and whispered in Eleanor' s ear so only she could hear.

"You see, Sister? All men in this world are the same. If they don' t get what they want at home, they' ll go find it somewhere else."

Her voice was low and venomous. "Do you believe me now? I will eventually replace you and become the new Duchess Regent."