His eyes blazed—not with concern or patience, but with something far colder.
“Stay out of this and let the men handle these important matters,” he spat.“The Black Wraith is no noble saint, after all.”
He swept his arm out, a theatrical gesture toward the men gathered before him, their expressions ranging from bemused to annoyed.
“Your insolence is not only unwelcome but laughable.Know your place!”
His words struck like a physical blow, stripping away any illusion of agency I might have possessed.
Across the table, Lord Hassan did not move.
A silent observer.A shadow carved from the darkness.
His existence was a weight, pressing against my skin, and for a moment, I dared to meet his gaze.
Searching.
For what, I did not know—an ally, an ounce of understanding, a thread of insolence stitched into his unreadable expression.
But his silence was a wall I could not breach.
And perhaps I was foolish to have thought otherwise.
Slowly, I lowered my gaze.
But the final blow did not come from Lord Hassan’s silence.
It came from the brutal, undeniable truth?—
My father saw me as nothing.
A pawn on his chessboard of power.
No voice.
No worth beyond the marriage that would secure his ambitions.
I stood, every muscle trembling, my voice barely a whisper.
“Forgive me, Father… will you excuse me?I need some fresh air.”
No response.
No acknowledgment.
The plea fell into nothingness, swallowed by the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conspiratorial voices weaving their dark plots.
As if I had never spoken at all.
And that was when I knew?—
I was not just powerless in this room.
I was invisible.
Leaving behind the suffocating walls of the dining room, I slipped through the ornate French doors at the end of the grand hallway.The crisp night air kissed my cheeks, cool and bracing against the heat of my humiliation.
Tears welled in my eyes, unshed, heavy with the weight of everything I could not say.
