CHAPTER 16: Action Speaks Louder Than Words
1227 Words
Valerie felt the weight of their stares, sharp and heavy, like shards of glass piercing through her resolve. Each glance whispered of skepticism, judgment, and the ghost of her former self. She could see it in their eyes, the image of the cruel, venomous woman they believed her to be.
It wasn’t just Valerie Hawthorne they condemned. It was her.
Inside, Akari’s soul trembled beneath the crushing weight of it all. An innocent woman trapped in a villainess’s skin felt like she was walking on eggshells, every step threatening to shatter the fragile path she was trying to rebuild.
"They’re not used to this," she thought, her chest tightening. "They can’t see beyond who I was."
The weight of their judgment bore down on her, relentless and unyielding. She wanted to scream, to cry out that she wasn’t the same woman who had hurt them, who had destroyed lives with reckless abandon. But words caught in her throat, held hostage by the suffocating silence.
Before she could dwell on their stares, Alex cleared his throat. “My lady, if there’s nothing more—”
A loud growl echoed through the air, cutting him off. Valerie froze, wide-eyed. Her stomach had betrayed her. The sound seemed to hang in the courtyard, followed by a brief, stunned silence.
Her face burned as the realization hit her.
"I haven’t eaten since breakfast, dam!" she screamed inside her head.
The rush to finish her letter had consumed her, leaving her too anxious to eat earlier and too focused to care about lunch.
Emma’s face lit with concern. “My lady! You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”
“I—I’m fine,” Valerie stammered, clutching her stomach in mortification.
Alex sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My lady, perhaps next time you’ll remember that even your body has its limits.”
Valerie glared at him through her embarrassment. “I’m perfectly fine!”
But as Emma fretted over her, and Alex muttered under his breath, Valerie couldn’t help but notice the faintest hint of amusement in the butler’s eyes. The knights exchanged glances, their suspicion softening into something akin to quiet curiosity.
"I’m sorry," Valerie began, her voice trembling as she tried to smooth over the awkwardness. Forcing a smile, she added, "I was so focused on writing a letter to the Marquess, I completely forgot to eat."
Alex’s sharp gaze flicked at her, his tone outwardly polite but laced with annoyance. "My lady, please go inside and have your meal first."
"No," she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly. "I want to ensure my letter reaches the messenger personally."
His expression hardened. "Don’t you trust me, my lady?"
Her confidence faltered. "No, I mean… I do, but—" She hesitated, searching for the right words. Her eyes darted toward a crate of cabbage being loaded into the carriage. The wilted leaves caught her attention, and she took a step closer, her brow furrowing. "Wait," she said, pointing at the vegetables. "Why are these in such poor condition? They’re obviously not in—"
"My lady!" Alex’s voice cut through the air like a whip, his expression tightening. "We’re running out of time to stock the supplies. Please, step aside."
Valerie froze, startled by his sudden outburst. Bowing her head, she murmured, "I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—"
Alex’s irritation melted into a brief moment of surprise. But before he could respond, Valerie’s gaze returned to the crate. "But why are you sending the Marquess subpar supplies? Shouldn’t—"
"My lady," he interrupted again, his voice colder this time. "Please, stop pretending to care."
The words hit her like a slap. Valerie’s hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip to hold back the sting of tears. Emma, who had been silently watching, stepped forward, unable to remain a bystander any longer.
"Mr. Owell, that’s enough," she said, her tone sharp and unwavering. "The lady is only concerned about the Marquess’s well-being."
Alex turned his piercing gaze on Emma, his patience clearly fraying. "And since when has the lady been concerned about anything here?"
Emma stood her ground, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "The lady has vowed to change."
"Change?" Alex scoffed, his smirk bitter and mocking. "And why would she do that? What’s her angle this time?"
Before Emma could fire back, Valerie gently touched her arm, signaling her to stop. "Emma," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her tear-streaked face was lit with a fragile smile, masking her pain. "It’s okay. Let’s go inside."
Emma’s jaw tightened, but she obeyed, retreating with her lady. Yet as they turned to leave, Emma shot Alex one last glare, her eyes blazing with indignation, silently promising that this wasn’t over. Alex stood rooted in place, watching them go. His jaw tightened the weight of his own words lingering in the cool evening air.
The knights worked in tense silence, the weight of unspoken questions thick in the air. Alex Owell stood in the center, his golden eyes locked onto the red envelope in his hand. It bore the wax seal of Lady Hawthorne, a name whispered more often with distrust than reverence. His brow furrowed as his fingers tightened around the parchment, threatening to crease it.
He didn’t trust her. Not her honeyed words, not her sudden missives, and certainly not this letter. The urge to break the seal burned within him, but discipline kept his hands at bay.
“Vows to change?” he murmured, the words hanging heavy in the air. He combed his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he rarely allowed himself. “What game is the lady playing now?”
A sharp knock broke his reverie. The messenger stepped in, bowing deeply. “Sir Owell, I’ve come to retrieve the letters.”
Alex straightened, setting the envelope with practiced ease. “Of course.” He gestured to the neat stack of correspondence. “This white envelope is my formal response to the Marquess. It addresses the recent incident at the border.” He lifted another. “And this contains my detailed report on the manor’s affairs. Ensure they reach him swiftly and this is from the Madam.”
The messenger nodded, but his gaze drifted to the scarlet envelope ominously apart from the rest. “And... that one?”
Alex hesitated, his jaw tightening. He held it out with an unreadable expression. “This is from the lady.”
The messenger flinched as though he’d been handed a blade instead of paper. “Lady Hawthorne?” His voice wavered with unease.
“Yes.” Alex’s tone was cold, almost dismissive. “She claims she wishes to make amends with the Marquess.”
The messenger’s face darkened with worry. “Amends? Are you certain her words won’t cause him harm? The Marquess is surrounded by enemies—anything ill-timed could shake his resolve.”
Alex’s gaze hardened. “The Marquess is the Empire’s sword, unyielding and undefeated. No words from a woman—especially her could break him.”
But as the messenger left, Alex’s grip lingered. In the silence that followed, doubts clawed at the corners of his mind.
What if this letter wasn’t a weapon? What if it was something worse?
- Writer
