The downfall of Camilla Vexley rippled through the noble courts like blood in water.
By morning, half the capital was whispering her name.
By evening, no one dared say Evelyne Ashthorn's without a tremble.
And now, it was time for the man who turned betrayal into a profession.
Duke Eldrin Vale.
He called me 'dear girl' while he fed the court lies.
He stood at my trial with a hand over his heart and a blade behind his back.
Evelyne stared at her reflection in the mirror. No longer soft, no longer unsure. Her lips were painted in crimson, her hair pinned with quiet precision.
She was going to the lion's den tonight not as prey.
But as the fire they'd tried to snuff out.
The Masquerade
The Duke's grand estate glittered with chandeliers and falseness. Laughter floated through the marble halls, and nobles in masks danced like it meant something.
It didn't.
Every smile was strategy. Every drink, a distraction.
Evelyne entered without fanfare. Masked. Cloaked. Uninvited.
The moment she stepped onto the ballroom floor, the air changed.
Some part of them knew.
She moved like a ghost reborn.
At the top of the staircase stood Duke Vale older than most, but sharp-eyed, silver-haired, dressed in midnight black.
He watched the room like a king in waiting.
And when he saw her, even behind her mask, he froze.
"Lady Evelyne," he said with practiced calm, descending the steps like a spider approaching its web.
"Duke Vale," she replied, voice cool. "Still feeding the wolves?"
He chuckled, as though amused. "The wolves must eat, dear girl."
"Then I hope they're hungry," she said, stepping closer. "Because I've brought a feast."
They danced.
Not because she wanted to, but because the court was watching. And because she knew the poison dripped sweeter when stirred with charm.
"You've returned stronger," Vale said as they turned through the waltz. "But strength is not enough in this world."
"No," Evelyne said, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "But secrets are."
She pressed a folded letter into his hand sealed in red wax. A single name written across the front:
His son's.
His mask slipped.
Only for a second.
Then the waltz ended.
"You wouldn't dare," he murmured.
Evelyne smiled.
"You dared first."
She left him standing in the middle of the ballroom, hand trembling, mask cracked.
The wolves would devour him by morning.
Another target fallen.
Another lie shattered.
And Evelyne?
She didn't stop walking.
Because the court had just remembered what it felt like to fear her.