The Duke's Slave Daughter

A New Dawn, A New Daughter

Daeva stood at the grand gates of Duke Azrael’s estate, her lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. The noble couple beside her — Lord Elyan and Lady Madeline of the Western Province — flanked her with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. They had been instructed on every detail she wanted shared, and she watched with amusement as they wove her tale to the waiting servants and advisors.

“Presenting Lady Daeva,” the woman announced, her voice laced with conviction. “She is the Duke’s true daughter, long-lost and now returned to claim her rightful place.”

The servants exchanged glances, eyes widening as they took in Daeva’s uncanny resemblance to Duke Azrael. Her dark hair, the slight curve of her nose, the piercing green eyes that mirrored the Duke’s — she looked the part well. And Daeva knew it.

A murmur spread among the servants gathered nearby. One, a young maid, squinted as she took in Daeva’s face, her delicate features that mirrored Duke Azrael’s. "The resemblance… it’s undeniable,” the maid whispered to another servant. "Could it be true? Has she really returned?"

“If there’s any doubt,” Daeva said in a soft, tremulous voice, “I hope my actions will prove that I am worthy of my father’s trust. I have longed to meet him all my life.”

Daeva tilted her chin just enough to give the impression of modesty, but the words fed her ego like fire to dry leaves. She’d practiced this moment countless times, rehearsing the way she would lower her gaze, the slight tremble in her lip as though overwhelmed by emotion. Her heart remained cold, calculating every move.

With that, Daeva entered the estate, each step radiating an air of subtle triumph as she prepared to bring the Duke under her spell.

This is only the beginning, Daeva thought, glancing briefly at the noble couple, who had willingly played their parts. The Duke will be mine to command.

---

Inside his chambers, Duke Azrael stared at his advisor, processing the news. “A girl claiming to be my daughter?” he murmured, skepticism laced with a strange sense of intrigue. The idea tugged at something deep within him.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the advisor replied. “She was accompanied by Lord Elyan and Lady Madeline, who spoke of her background.” The servants had described her eyes, her expressions—too familiar to ignore.

The Duke’s heart pounded as he made his way to the grand hall. When he saw Daeva, he froze. There was something unsettling yet achingly familiar about her. His mind reeled, each glance at her face stirring memories that felt half-formed and frustratingly elusive.

Daeva stepped forward, her voice soft and brimming with the warmth of someone lost, now found. “Father,” she whispered, her gaze meeting his. “I have come home.”

The word *Father* landed heavily on him. He looked at her, as if searching for an answer on her face. “How… How can this be?”

“It’s a story of years lost and fears endured,” she replied, her voice trembling. “But I am here now. I just want a chance to belong.”

The Duke’s hand reached out, hesitant, resting on her shoulder. “This… feels strange. As though I should have known… and yet…”

“Father,” she whispered again, with a tender expression that struck him with painful nostalgia. He let his hand fall, nodding slightly as confusion and instinct warred within him.

He watched her, confusion and hope battling within him. Something about her face tugged at memories that refused to surface. Had he lost his daughter, this young woman standing before him? His heart ached, and he reached out, hesitating.

---

### Scene 3: The Subtle Manipulation

Over the following days, Daeva carefully planted her place within the estate. She wandered the gardens with a distant, sorrowful look in her eyes, or paused to glance at old family portraits with a small sigh. The servants couldn’t help but watch her, their eyes following her every graceful step. Her presence was delicate, controlled, every action calculated to reinforce her story of loss and return.

"Look at the young miss," one maid murmured with sympathy, her gaze softening as she watched Daeva. "She’s truly endured so much, separated from her family for all those years."

Daeva overheard and felt a rush of satisfaction. Another maid, more bitterly, chimed in, "If only that girl Urania hadn’t interfered. Miss Daeva should have been here long ago."

Suppressing a smirk, Daeva glanced their way, giving them a sweet, innocent wave as though she hadn’t caught a word of their whispers. The maids responded with smiles, reassured in their assumptions.

*"Oh, poor Urania,"* Daeva thought with a cold thrill. *"To be you now—forsaken by those who once adored you. They’ve all turned away, and soon, there will be no place for you here. I’ll make sure of it. After all, I could never let someone like you stand in my way."*

One evening at dinner, she looked across the table at the Duke, her voice full of solemnity. “I know I must have disappointed you,” she said, her gaze never leaving him. “But now that I am here, I will make amends for the lost years. I will be the daughter you always wanted.”

Duke Azrael felt himself soften, as if a missing piece of his heart had suddenly appeared. The warmth in her eyes seemed sincere, and the ache he had once carried, faint yet ever-present, felt momentarily at ease.

“I just hope to prove myself worthy,” she added, her voice low and vulnerable. She glanced around the table, her gaze lingering briefly on the brothers who had once despised the lost girl they’d cast away.

The Duke’s sons exchanged glances, shifting in their seats, unsure but increasingly convinced by her sincerity. Daeva smiled at them, carefully positioning herself as their long-lost sister, eager to make up for the lost time.

“You don’t have to prove anything to us, Daeva,” Alec, the heir of the family finally said, his voice hesitant but sincere. “If you truly are Father’s daughter, then… you are family.”

"That's right, Daeva," Alexis, the Duke's second son, assured her with a gentle smile. "From now on, you’ll always be our little sister, no matter what."

"And honestly," he added with a hint of regret, "we’re the ones who should apologize for not finding you sooner."

Daeva’s expression filled with gratitude, though inside, she felt nothing but satisfaction at her progress.

Daeva smiled at them, her expression soft and sweet. "Thank you both, truly. It means so much to me, my dear brothers." She let the warmth of her words sink in, savoring how perfectly everything was falling into place.

Late that night, Duke Azrael stood alone in his study, looking at the portrait of his late wife and sons. His thoughts swirled with unease, pulling him in directions he couldn’t quite comprehend. Daeva’s presence had ignited something within him.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence, and Daeva entered, her face gentle and demure. “Father, I wanted to check on you. You looked… troubled at dinner.”

Azrael glanced at her, his uncertainty etched deeply into his face. “There is something… It’s as if I should remember you, yet the memory dances just beyond my grasp.”

Daeva placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Perhaps time will ease those doubts. After all, it’s been a long journey for both of us. I don’t expect you to accept everything at once.”

He nodded slowly, and as she slipped out of the room, a faint smile touched her lips.

------

In the days that followed, Daeva deepened her influence. She appeared sweet and innocent, her manners gentle and proper, charming every person in the duchy. She spent time with the Duke’s sons, playing the role of an affectionate sister, and carefully spoke of her gratitude for being accepted.

One day, while walking through the gardens with Alec, she clasped her hands together, her voice a whisper. “You have no idea how much happiness it brings me to finally be here, to be a part of this family after so much pain.”

Alec looked at her thoughtfully. “It must have been hard, being separated from us all this time.”

“Harder than words can say,” Daeva replied, her voice soft and sorrowful. “I often wondered if I would ever find my way back. I only hope I can fill the emptiness left by… whoever may have come before me.”

Alec paused, his brow furrowing. “You mean… Urania?”

Daeva’s expression flickered, just for a moment, with something sharper than sorrow. But she quickly masked it, sighing deeply. “I only know what I’ve been told. If she was here before… I only wish I could be the sister you deserve.”

The brother seemed moved, nodding slightly as Daeva leaned closer, planting seeds of doubt about the girl who had been cast out.

"You don’t need to worry about that fraud, Daeva. You’re a far better person and sister than she ever was," Alec reassured her firmly.

"But still," Daeva replied with a feigned innocence, "I can't understand how someone would go to such lengths. What could they possibly gain from a scheme like that?"

Alec scoffed, crossing his arms. "Money and status, of course. People are greedy, little sister. It’s why you shouldn’t waste a second thinking about someone like her. She’s not worth it."

Daeva hid her satisfaction behind a sweet, wide-eyed smile. "Alright, brother!"

Alec chuckled softly, patting her head as she beamed up at him, every bit the picture of innocence. Inside, though, Daeva relished how easily she was weaving herself into their lives.

From that day on, the whispers began, hinting that Urania was nothing but an imposter, and that Daeva was the true daughter of Duke Azrael. Her position in the family grew stronger with each passing day, her every action a masterstroke in her quiet, relentless manipulation.

With each passing day, the estate’s residents began to see her as the sweet, loving daughter they had long missed. And as she secured her place, Daeva felt triumphant, the truth of her origin buried beneath layers of deception as she claimed her place in Duke Azrael’s world.