Lucille didn't say a word. She quietly stretched out her hands, and the cold cuffs locked around her wrists. Without resistance, she followed the wardens out.
Other servants peeked from their hiding places, trying to see what was going on. Among them was Ophelia. Her eyes filled with sorrow as she watched Lucille being taken away. Her heart twisted painfully, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
She wished she could help, do something, anything. But just like Lucille, she was only a commoner. Powerless.
Up on the balcony, Edward stood still. His eyes were dark, unreadable. As he watched Lucille being led away, his fists tightened. A sharp ache struck his chestm, it came quickly and disappeared just as fast.
To him, Lucille was a pawn, used by Mabel to get to him. He still didn't understand why Mabel had done it, but he knew the truth would surface eventually.
He could have stopped the wardens. But his father had warned him not to interfere.
As the guards dragged Lucille roughly toward the van, something bitter rose in his throat. His breath caught. His jaw clenched tight.
He watched as she was shoved into the van, and it drove off without pause. He closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, to calm the storm inside him. But it didn't help.
With a sharp breath, he opened his eyes and stared at the gate where the van had vanished. Then, without a word, he turned and walked back into the house.
Moments later, he came back out, car keys in hand.
An hour later, Edward was sitting on a couch, in Mark's bedroom.
"Calm down, Eddy," Mark said gently, his voice calm and steady.
"How do you expect me to calm down? I can't!" Edward snapped, his voice rising with every word. He was pacing, restless, anger pouring off him like fire.
Mark watched him quietly for a moment. Edward had been ranting non-stop since he arrived, storming in, throwing out pieces of stories, his emotions all over the place. But Mark still couldn't figure out what exactly had set him off.
"What are you really angry about?" he asked, his voice steady.
"Everything!" Edward shouted, springing to his feet. He started pacing faster, running a hand through his hair.
A thought crept into Mark's mind. Was Edward defending Lucille? He quickly pushed the idea away. That couldn't be it. could it?
"Is it Mabel?" Mark asked carefully.
"Yes!" Edward barked, his jaw tight.
Mark studied his face, then asked again, more cautiously, "Is it Lucille?"
"How can it be her? She did nothing wrong!" Edward's response was sharp and immediate. A chill ran down Mark's spine.
He is defending her.
"Eddy," Mark called softly, a mix of concern and surprise in his voice.
Edward's eyes darkened. "That Mabel, she's something else!" he growled.
"She told my father that Lucille poured hot water on her—why would she lie like that?" His teeth clenched, his fists curled.
"I'm going to that hospital. I need answers!" Edward reached into his pocket, checking for his car keys. Once he felt them, he turned toward the door.
"Wait, Eddy!" Mark jumped up and blocked his path.
"Let's think this through. If you go now, in this state, you'll explode at Mabel. That won't help anyone."
Edward stopped. His breath was heavy. He looked down, then shook his head. "I have to see her."
Mark sighed. He knew he couldn't stop him. "Fine. But not like this, not while you're this angry."
Edward ran a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. His anger had started to fade, replaced by something deeper, pain, confusion.
"Mark," he said softly, voice lower now.
Edward's eyes shifted to Mark, a curious look settling in. "If you were Mabel, and Lucille was a man, would you have slapped him?"
Mark gave a small smile, then shook his head. "No, but—"
"Why not?" Edward cut in, his intense gaze locked on Mark's face.
Mark frowned slightly, trying to understand where the question was leading. "Because it's against the rules of servitude," he replied.
"You're an elite," Edward pressed. "You could hit a servant and still walk free."
Mark started shaking his head before Edward even finished. "Maybe I could," he said honestly. "But you? With Mitch around? It wouldn't be that easy."
Edward let out a bitter laugh. "Exactly. Mabel knows all this. She knows what's at stake, yet she slapped Lucille!"
Mark blinked, surprised. "She hit her?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Twice," Edward growled. "Her finger marks were still fresh this morning, red and sore, carved into her skin.
Mark's face darkened. He looked down and shook his head slowly. "That's not right," he murmured. "She shouldn't have done that."
Edward spread his arms, voice rising again. "So now you understand why I have to see her! I need to know why she did it, why she'd risk dragging my name into a mess like this!"
"Just imagine what would happen if word got out," Edward said, shaking his head. "That the High Councillor's son stood by while a woman left bruises on his ex-mate, someone serving her sentence under his roof."
He paused, his voice lower now, heavier. "Think about what that could do to my father's political career."
Without another word, he turned and headed for the door.
This time, Mark didn't try to stop him. He just watched Edward walk away, eyes narrowed in thought.
"She hit her?" he whispered, still trying to process the truth.
But the real surprise in his eyes wasn't because of what Mabel did to Lucille, it was because of Edward. Because Edward was defending Lucille.
Without wasting another second, Mark rushed after him. If Edward was heading to the hospital, then he had to go too.
A few hours later, they pulled into the hospital's parking lot.
"You need to calm down, Eddy," Mark said gently, noticing how tense Edward was. His jaw was clenched, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, the veins on his arms stood out.
Mark's eyes moved from Edward's hands to his chest, which was rising and falling quickly with each angry breath.
"I'm not going there to make a scene," Edward replied, voice low. "I just want answers."
With that, he unlocked the door and stepped out. Mark followed right behind.
Inside the private ward, Mabel lay on the bed with her eyes closed, though her eyelids twitched slightly. Ellis Fletcher sat quietly on the sofa, while their mother sat beside the bed, gently holding Mabel's hand.
"Does it still hurt?" Alice Fletcher asked softly.
Mabel shook her head slowly.
The pain from the burn had faded a little, but the pain in her heart hadn't. It was still sharp, growing heavier with each passing second. Her chest felt tight, like a storm was trapped inside it. But she didn't cry. She couldn't. Not anymore.
"She's been arrested," Ellis said coldly, breaking the silence.
He had already heard about what happened, how Lucille had been taken away, and how Edward hadn't lifted a finger to stop it.
Of course he wouldn't. Ellis thought bitterly. She's just a servant to him.
The sound of the door creaking open snapped all their heads toward it. The moment Ellis saw who had entered, a fresh wave of anger surged through him.
"What are you doing here?" he growled, rising to his feet, and storming toward the door.