[Rynthall Estate, Next Morning]
Lucein sat unnaturally still on the velvet chaise, draped in soft blue silks like a porcelain statue that had given up on life. His eyes were glassy, staring into the void of motherhood while little Elysia suckled her pacifier like it was a divine duty passed down through their bloodlines.
She didn't blink. Just kept staring at Lucein with that same mildly concerned expression—half "Where's my milk?" and half "Mother, are you okay?"
Meanwhile, the estate was descending into absolute madness.
Servants darted from one end of the hall to the other, tripping over rugs and screaming at each other in polite, aristocratic panic. Footmen polished doorknobs like their souls depended on it. Someone threw a vase. No one questioned it.
And then—
A maid shrieked from the front foyer like she'd seen the Second Coming.
"THE CARRIAGE HAS ARRIVED!!!"
Instantly, the entire manor went dead silent. Like someone had slapped God in the face.
