Ashes of Devotion

Emilia

The first time Emilia overheard the truth, she was twelve years old. It was a quiet evening in the vast manor her family called home, the air tinged with the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh roses arranged by the maids earlier that afternoon. She had been wandering the halls, a habit born out of restlessness and curiosity, when muffled voices from her father’s study caught her attention. Something about the tone, low and urgent, drew her closer.

She pressed her ear against the heavy oak door, her heart pounding in her chest. Her father’s voice, deep and commanding, was unmistakable. “The shipment will leave on Friday. Double the usual amount. They’re desperate, and desperate men pay well.”

Another voice answered, one she didn’t recognize, speaking in a clipped accent. “And if it’s discovered? Selling weapons to their side is high treason.”

“It won’t be discovered,” her mother interjected, her tone sharp and cold. “We’ve been doing this for years. No one suspects a thing.”

Emilia’s breath caught in her throat. Selling weapons? To the enemy? Her stomach churned with confusion and fear, but she didn’t dare move. Her parents’ voices continued, each word painting a picture of betrayal and greed.

When the meeting finally ended and the door opened, Emilia had already darted down the hall, her small frame hidden in the shadows. She spent that night wide awake in her gilded bedroom, the truth unraveling in her young mind. Her family wasn’t just wealthy; they were profiteers, building their fortune on the suffering of others.

Over the years, that revelation shaped Emilia in ways her parents never noticed. To the world, she was the perfect daughter of Victor and Marguerite Rousseau. She attended the finest schools, wore the latest fashions, and graced every gala with a smile that could light up the room. But beneath the polished surface, she was different.

Her parents’ lavish lifestyle was a constant reminder of their secret. The sprawling estate with its marble floors and crystal chandeliers, the endless parade of servants catering to their every whim, the summer retreats to the French Riviera, all of it was stained by the knowledge of how it had been funded. Her older sister, Colette, reveled in it. Colette was a mirror image of their mother, with her sharp tongue and sharper ambitions. She loved the parties, the power, and the wealth, never questioning where it came from.

But Emilia couldn’t ignore it. While her family attended glittering events, she slipped away to volunteer at local charities, finding solace in helping those her family’s actions had harmed. It was a quiet rebellion, one she kept to herself. She knew better than to confront her parents. Victor and Marguerite Rousseau were not people who tolerated dissent, even from their own children.

One memory in particular haunted her. She was sixteen when she accidentally walked in on her parents in an intimate moment. The sight was shocking, not just because of their physicality but because of the stark contrast it painted against their public personas. Her mother, always so composed, was unguarded, and her father, usually domineering, seemed almost vulnerable. Emilia had frozen, mortified, before fleeing the room. But the incident left her with questions she didn’t yet know how to articulate.

By the time she turned eighteen, those questions had grown louder. She’d begun to explore the world of literature and found herself drawn to the taboo. Hidden among her schoolbooks were novels she’d never dare let her parents see. Tales of passion, power, and forbidden love stirred something in her, awakening a part of herself she didn’t fully understand.

Her sister mocked her interests. “Honestly, Emilia, you’re such a dreamer. No wonder Father says you’ll never amount to anything.” But Emilia didn’t care. She knew she was different from Colette, from her parents, from everyone in their gilded circle. She didn’t want their wealth or their power. She wanted to be free, to live a life untainted by secrets and lies.

What haunted her most, though, was the family secret she still carried alone. Her parents thought her oblivious, a naive girl content to bask in their riches. They didn’t know she’d heard everything that night. They didn’t know she’d pieced together the truth over the years, the clandestine deals, the hidden accounts, the lives destroyed by their greed.

As Emilia grew older, the weight of that knowledge became unbearable. She knew she had to do something, but what? Confronting her parents would be futile. They were too powerful, too entrenched in their world of deceit. But she couldn’t ignore it, not anymore.

The turning point came on her twenty-first birthday. The grand ballroom of the estate was filled with hundreds of guests, all there to celebrate her. Emilia played her part perfectly, smiling and laughing as she danced with eligible suitors handpicked by her mother. But as the night wore on, her resolve hardened. She couldn’t stay silent any longer. She had to find a way to expose the truth, no matter the cost.

Little did she know, that decision would change her life forever.