Beatrice's pov
"Ahhh!"
A low scream tore from my throat as I jolted out of bed. The sound echoed through the empty room, mocking me with its hollow return.
The same nightmare.
The same one I keep wishing was only a dream.
But it isn't.
I blinked several times, reminding myself that there was no blood on my hands, no knife in my grip. Still, the memory clung to me like cold sweat. I killed my brother. My only brother.
A sharp growl from my stomach dragged me back to the present. For once, I was grateful for the sound and the feeling of hunger. It pulled me away from the past. But the feeling quickly soured when I realized I didn't know when my next meal would come.
I hadn't eaten since we returned from the inspection yesterday. Normally, starvation was my punishment for some wrongdoing but this time, I couldn't recall what I had done wrong.
The soft creak of my door made my heart race. Whoever entered after a night of punishment rarely brought good news.
"You'll be having breakfast with the Count and the Countess," a maid said flatly. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left, her footsteps fading into the corridor.
For a moment, I could only stare. Breakfast with them? That never happened unless there was a guest.
My pulse quickened. Whatever this was it wasn't ordinary.
I rose quickly, dressed, and left my room. My limbs felt weak, my mind spinning with questions I couldn't answer. Still, I hurried toward the dining hall, afraid of keeping them waiting.
The moment I stepped inside, two pairs of eyes snapped toward me. My parents sat at the head of the table, faces stiff and uneasy.
I stopped and bowed slightly. There was no sign of Elena. That alone made the air feel heavier.
I hesitated near the table, unsure where to sit. Normally, I sat after my sister but with her gone, I didn't know if I should sit beside my mother or stand. Before I could decide, her voice cut through the silence.
"Do you know Duke Edward of Fairmont?" Mother asked, her tone sharp and tight with anger.
The question caught me off guard. I bowed my head and spoke honestly. "I've heard of him, my lady. Only what everyone knows nothing more."
"Is he courting you?" Her voice rose, sharp as glass.
"No, my lady."
"Then why," she hissed, "was he here yesterday to ask for your hand in marriage?"
The question wasn't truly for me it was her disbelief given form. And truthfully, I shared it. The Duke had nothing to gain from marrying me.
Although my parents are nobles, but our class is too low for someone like him
Noble marriages were alliances, not acts of kindness. What did he want?
Father finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "You are to remain home in the coming days. We'll handle this matter."
A flick of his hand dismissed me.
I turned to leave, my chest tight, but as I stepped into the corridor, I froze. Their voices followed me.
"We can't let her marry the Duke," my mother hissed. "What happens when that lowborn girl gains more influence than us? What if she tells him what we did to her?"
"I told the Duke we're preparing to marry her to the Crown Prince," Father replied smoothly. "That should make him back off."
"And what does he even see in her? He doesn't know the truth, does he? Fine silk can't change what she is."
Her words twisted like knives.
"That thing I picked from the slums," Mother spat, "will not rise above us. And what happens when the Duke discovers you lied about the Crown Prince?"
"By then," Father said calmly, "we'll have married her off to someone of lower rank."
Their footsteps shifted closer. I hurried away, silent as a shadow, heart pounding.
Back in my room, I sank to the floor.
If only they knew telling the Duke the truth would destroy me too.
Because exposing them means exposing myself.
And I can't afford that. Not after who I am and what I've done.
Not after killing my adoptive parent's son.