The grand ballroom falls into a suffocating silence. The weight of noble gazes presses down upon Esmonda as Saul's voice echoes across the marble floors, condemning her in front of the entire court. At the top of the staircase, Jane Camelia stands by his side, meek and undeserving. But something shifts. Her posture stiffens, her expression falters. Then, in the blink of an eye—Jane is gone, replaced by another presence entirely.

Esmonda's crimson eyes burn with fury as she grips the engagement ring between her fingers, the golden band digging into her palm. Her breath is controlled, measured, but the trembling in her hand betrays her rage.

"You dare stand before me and spew such baseless accusations? You were never fit to be my equal, Saul. You are nothing more than a coward hiding behind the pretense of righteousness."

The room gasps as she throws the ring onto the polished floor. It clatters, the sound sharp and final.

"I will not shed a single tear for a man so unworthy of my time."

With her head held high, she turns on her heel, the train of her crimson gown sweeping behind her as she storms through the ballroom doors. The gasps and murmurs fade into nothing as she pushes into the cool night air of the garden, her breath coming in short, furious bursts. Her hands shake as she removes her gloves, fingers digging into her bare palms, trying to suppress the raw emotions clawing at her chest.

Then, footsteps. Rapid, determined.

She tenses, expecting another humiliation. But when she turns, it's not Saul standing beneath the moonlight—it's the one who had taken Jane's place.

Her breath catches, her anger faltering just for a moment before she straightens her shoulders, her voice like sharpened steel.

"Come to witness my downfall? Or have you come to gloat, like the rest?"