"Dad!"
Dion burst into Lucas's office without hesitation.
Lucas, who had been signing documents at his desk, barely reacted, while his right-hand man, Alfonso, immediately stood up in alarm.
"Y-young master, who let you in h-here...?"
Alfonso moved to stop Dion from approaching. But before he could, Lucas shot him a cold, warning look. Alfonso instantly froze, stepping back without another word.
Dion's face was filled with frustration as he stepped closer.
"What is the meaning of what I just heard from Lion?! Is that walking rag really going to live here with us?!"
Lucas sighed, removing his reading glasses before setting his pen down. His expression remained unreadable.
"Walking rag?" he repeated slowly. "You mean your sister?"
"Yes! She's small, wearing some old patched-up dress, and looks completely pathetic! So why would you let her live here? I thought you already abandoned her-"
"Shut up, Dion. Don't finish that sentence."
Dion clenched his fists, still fuming. "But I thought she wasn't part of our family anymore! You hate her! Lion hates her! And she killed m-"
"Don't start with me, Dion."
Lucas's voice turned dangerously low, his sharp gaze freezing Dion in place. Dion immediately fell silent, suddenly looking like a scolded child.
After a tense moment, Lucas exhaled, his patience wearing thin.
"Stop making a fuss over it. I let her stay because she is still a member of this family. If you don't want to see her, then avoid her yourself. Now, get out. I'm busy, and I don't have time for your tantrums."
With that, he picked up his pen and resumed his work, dismissing Dion without another glance.
Dion stormed out of the office, his face still twisted in irritation. He couldn't believe it. From now on, he would have to live under the same roof as his little sister-something he never thought would happen.
He thought his dad had already abandoned her, so he believed their lives would finally be peaceful. But out of nowhere, his father changed his mind.
He hated his sister because she was a constant reminder of why their mother was gone. He could still remember how kind and gentle his mother had been. But what he could never accept was that she had chosen to give birth to his sister instead of prioritizing her own health.
And that choice had led to her death.
He had only been six years old when it happened. He could still recall the excitement he'd felt upon learning that his mother was pregnant. He had spent days fantasizing about having a little sister to play with, someone to protect.
But the moment he overheard the hushed conversations of the adults-the worried whispers about how dangerous the pregnancy was-his innocent joy had turned into cold, growing resentment.
His mother had been everything to him, and yet she had been willing to risk it all for a child that hadn't even been born yet. What was supposed to be a blessing to their family had instead become the greatest curse of his life.
"Young master, where are you going?"
Dion halted in his tracks at the familiar voice, his expression darkening as his gaze landed on Henry. But his attention quickly shifted to the small figure beside him-the very reason his day had gone from bad to worse.
And just like that, his mood plummeted further.
The little nuisance of their family had the audacity to smile at him, her tiny face lighting up as if she were genuinely happy to see him.
He scowled.
She was ugly and frail-looking, nothing like Ingrid, whose mere presence was always pleasant and graceful.
There was nothing endearing about her at all. He had no reason to look at her, much less acknowledge her.
"Why are you with her?" Dion asked, his brows furrowed in irritation.
"Lady Anastasia wanted to see the manor." Henry replied.
Dion scowled once more at Anastasia, who, despite his hostility, still wore a bright smile.
"And who do you think you are to order Henry around and have him give you a tour of the manor?" he sneered. "Know your place-this isn't your playground anymore. No one wants you here."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the two behind.
Anastasia watched him go, a puzzled look on her face before turning to Henry.
"Is Brother angry, Henry?"
Henry didn't know how to answer. He had never been one to easily understand emotions, yet seeing the young lady now, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pity for her.
Anastasia bore a striking resemblance to the late duchess, and because of that, he found it impossible not to feel some form of sympathy.
His loyalty had always belonged solely to the duke and the young masters. Yet, looking at Anastasia, he couldn't help but feel an unexpected pull-an urge to protect and care for her, just as he had once done for the late duchess.
"Don't think too much about it, young lady. What matters is that you're not alone. I am here with you."
-------+++
"Is the young lady really going to live here?"
Lucy couldn't stop herself from questioning the head maid as they, along with several other maids, escorted Anastasia to what would be her new room.
The head maid, Flor, raised an eyebrow at Lucy before meeting her gaze with a sharp glare.
"Yes. Do you have a problem with the young lady's room?"
"Yes! Did the duke tell you this would be her room?" Lucy protested as she scanned the cramped attic space.
It was far smaller and more rundown than the young lady's room in the old palace. Dust coated every surface, and the air was thick with neglect, as if no one had bothered to clean it-perhaps deliberately-to humiliate the young lady of the manor.
Flor smirked, arms crossed.
"Nope. But the duke didn't specify where the young lady should sleep, so we prepared this room exclusively for her."
There was an air of pride in her voice that only fueled Lucy's growing outrage.
"What?! Then why would you put the young lady in a place like this? Are you saying she doesn't have the right to stay in one of the finer rooms near the young masters?"
Flor's expression darkened. Without warning, she grabbed Lucy's hair and yanked it hard, forcing a sharp gasp from her.
"And who do you think you are to raise your voice at me? You're just a lowly maid!" she spat. "Instead of complaining, you and the young lady should be grateful that the duke even allowed you to stay in the manor."
With that, she shoved Lucy forcefully, sending her stumbling onto the dusty floor.
Lucy stared at Flor in disbelief. The woman before her had changed drastically from the person she once knew.
Flor had been one of the most loyal maids of the Winston family, especially to the late duchess. Like the duke and the young masters, she had never liked the young lady.
Lucy had always found their resentment shallow and narrow-minded-they blamed the young lady for the duchess's death when, in reality, she had nothing to do with it.
The late duchess had always been frail and sickly. Even knowing that giving birth to Lady Anastasia would cost her life, she had still chosen to bring her into the world. However, the Winston family-and even the maids closest to the duchess-had never accepted that choice.
"Grateful?" Lucy scoffed. "Hah... Then are you saying the young lady has no right to be part of the Winston family at all?"
Flor sneered. "She doesn't. Even the duke himself doesn't care about her. The only reason he keeps her around is out of pity-because, at the end of the day, she still carries Winston blood."
Lucy clenched her fists. "So that gives you the right to treat her like this? To deny her even a decent room?"
Flor's expression darkened. She gestured for the other maids to leave before turning back to Lucy.
"There's no decent room available because the one meant for the young lady has already been given to Lady Ingrid. As for the rooms near the young masters and the duke, they cannot be occupied-none of them want to share the same floor as Lady Anastasia. Now, have I answered your question?" Flor said sarcastically.
Lucy furrowed her brows before clenching her fists.
Lady Ingrid was the daughter of the duke's deceased younger brother, Marquis Hector. The Marquis and Marchioness had passed away not long ago, leaving their only daughter behind.
Since the duke was Lady Ingrid's only remaining relative, he had taken her in. But now, it seemed he was planning to make her the new young lady of the manor.
So the duke and the young masters would rather treat Lady Ingrid with kindness than Lady Anastasia-their own flesh and blood?
What a heartless family.....
"Remember this, Lucy. Don't get in the way of the duke and the young masters if you don't want to be thrown out of this manor-leaving your precious young lady with no one to care for her." Flor warned before walking out of the room.
Lucy let out a heavy sigh.
She could hardly believe it, but at this point, she would rather have the young lady live in the old palace than stay in this manor.
Will the young lady be able to endure such treatment from her own family?