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the Villainess they took for granted

Chapter 115: The Audience · Oct 27, 2026

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Chapter List (304)

Page number / 7

101 Chapter 101: I Missed You 2026-10-27
102 Chapter 102: A Moment of Peace 2026-10-27
103 Chapter 103: The End of Questions 2026-10-27
104 Chapter 104: Beside Her 2026-10-27
105 Chapter 105: The First Move 2026-10-27
106 Chapter 106: The First Ripple 2026-10-27
107 Chapter 107: The Crown Prince Moves 2026-10-27
108 Chapter 108: The Last Olive Branch 2026-10-27
109 Chapter 109: Between Storms 2026-10-27
110 Chapter 110: The Name 2026-10-27
111 Chapter 111: The distance between us 2026-10-27
112 Chapter 112: What do you want? 2026-10-27
113 Chapter 113: Just Cassian 2026-10-27
114 Chapter 114: Then What? 2026-10-27
115 Chapter 115: The Audience 2026-10-27
116 Chapter 116: A Father’s Argument 2026-10-27
117 Chapter 117: And What of My Son? 2026-10-27
118 Chapter 118: Why Him? 2026-10-27
119 Chapter 119: If I Refuse 2026-10-27
120 Chapter 120: The Future 2026-10-27
121 Chapter 121: The Weight of a Crown 2026-10-27
122 Chapter 122: My Son Deserves Better 2026-10-27
123 Chapter 123: For the Best 2026-10-27
124 Chapter 124: Good News 2026-10-27
125 Chapter 125: The Road Ahead 2026-10-27
126 Chapter 126: Letting Go 2026-10-27
127 Chapter 127: The Proceedings 2026-10-27
128 Chapter 128: His Nephew 2026-10-27
129 Chapter 129: How Did This Happen? 2026-10-27
130 Chapter 130: My Brother’s Son 2026-10-27
131 Chapter 131: The Price 2026-10-27
132 Chapter 132: The Cost 2026-10-27
133 Chapter 133: Ashford House 2026-10-27
134 Chapter 134: Patience 2026-10-27
135 Chapter 135: Yours 2026-10-27
136 Chapter 136: Spring 2026-10-27
137 Chapter 137: The Invitation 2026-10-27
138 Chapter 138: The Season 2026-10-27
139 Chapter 139: Afterward 2026-10-27
140 Chapter 140: Questions 2026-10-27
141 Chapter 141: Attention 2026-10-27
142 Chapter 142: Answers 2026-10-27
143 Chapter 143: Waiting 2026-10-27
144 Chapter 144: His Grace, Duke Ashford 2026-10-27
145 Chapter 145: Home 2026-10-27
146 Chapter 146: Welcome Home 2026-10-27
147 Chapter 147: The Space Between Them 2026-10-27
148 Chapter 148: This Dance 2026-10-27
149 Chapter 149: Reality Returns 2026-10-27
150 Chapter 150: The Ring 2026-10-27

Chapter 115: Chapter 115: The Audience

The summons arrived two days later.

Duke Valmort was in his study when the servant announced the messenger’s arrival.

He knew what it was before he saw the seal.

There was only one response he had been waiting for.

Only one letter that mattered.

For a moment, he simply stared at it.

The Imperial crest gleamed in the morning light.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

The waiting was over.

His fingers closed around the parchment.

Then he broke the seal.

The contents were brief.

As Imperial correspondence often was.

His audience had been granted.

The date.

The hour.

The location.

Nothing more.

No indication of the Emperor’s mood.

No hint regarding his thoughts.

No clue as to how the conversation would unfold.

The Emperor had summoned him.

That was all.

Duke Valmort folded the letter carefully.

Then set it upon the desk.

For several moments, he remained seated.

Silent.

The room around him was familiar.

Bookshelves.

Maps.

Reports.

The accumulated responsibilities of decades.

Ordinarily, they would have occupied his attention.

Today they may as well have belonged to another man.

Because after weeks of preparation, speculation, and waiting—

the matter had finally moved beyond his control.

The next move belonged to the Emperor.

And that realization carried a peculiar sort of weight.

Not fear.

Duke Valmort was not a timid man.

He had stood before emperors before.

Negotiated treaties.

Managed crises.

Survived political storms that would have ruined lesser men.

No.

It wasn’t fear.

It was importance.

Because for all the titles attached to this audience—

Duke.

Emperor.

Crown Prince.

Empire—

none of them felt particularly relevant.

At its heart, this remained painfully simple.

His daughter had asked for his help.

And he had promised it.

The rest was merely details.

The household quickly became aware that the day had arrived.

Servants moved with unusual efficiency.

Formal attire was prepared.

The carriage readied.

Schedules rearranged.

The Duke endured it all with the patience of a man who understood that resisting would only create more activity.

Breakfast proved largely pointless.

He sat alone at the long dining table.

A servant poured fresh tea.

The tea cooled untouched.

The Duke stared out the window.

Lost in thought.

The dining room felt unusually quiet.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t.

Perhaps he had simply become more aware of it.

Years ago, mornings had been different.

His wife had possessed an unfortunate habit of insisting upon conversation before he had properly awakened.

Marian had inherited it.

As a child, she had filled every silence she encountered.

Questions.

Observations.

Complaints.

The occasional declaration that something was unfair.

As she grew older, she somehow became worse.

The estate had never truly been quiet while she was present.

The realization brought a faint smile to his face.

Gone almost immediately.

Because another thought followed close behind.

One he had been avoiding for weeks.

Soon enough, she would leave this house.

Not today.

Perhaps not this year.

But someday.

That had always been the expectation.

The natural order of things.

Children grew.

Children left.

Parents learned to accept it.

Yet somehow the thought felt different now.

Because the future Marian wanted was not the future he had once imagined for her.

And despite everything, despite all the uncertainty and complications, he found he could not resent that.

Only worry for it.

The Duke reached for his tea.

Then stopped.

The cup remained untouched.

His appetite had vanished somewhere between the Imperial summons and the morning sunlight.

A servant approached carefully.

”Your Grace, the carriage is ready.”

The Duke nodded.

Then rose.

The waiting was over.

He encountered Marian shortly before departure.

Entirely by accident.

At least officially.

The Duke strongly suspected she had been waiting.

His daughter stood near one of the front windows.

Apparently occupied with the garden.

A transparent deception.

She turned as he approached.

”Father.”

”Marian.”

For a moment neither spoke.

What remained was not uncertainty.

All the important conversations had already happened.

The arguments.

The discussions.

The promises.

Those had come and gone.

Only the outcome remained.

The Duke studied her.

His daughter.

The little girl who had once insisted upon following him everywhere.

The child who had asked endless questions.

The young woman who had somehow become brave enough to stand against an empire.

A peculiar mixture.

Admirable.

Terrifying.

His expression softened.

”I’ll do my best.”

Marian smiled.

Small.

Steady.

A smile that somehow reminded him she was no longer a child.

”I know.”

Nothing more needed saying.

The Duke nodded once.

Then turned toward the waiting carriage.

Because if he lingered, he might find reasons not to leave.

And unfortunately, duty possessed an irritating tendency to arrive on schedule.

The journey through the capital felt shorter than usual.

Perhaps because his thoughts occupied most of it.

The city passed beyond the carriage windows.

Busy streets.

Crowded markets.

Noble estates.

Familiar sights.

Normally he enjoyed observing them.

Today they blurred together.

His mind remained fixed elsewhere.

On an office high within the Imperial Palace.

On a conversation that had yet to happen.

On an Emperor waiting for answers.

The carriage eventually slowed.

Then stopped.

The palace gates rose before him.

Massive.

Imposing.

Ancient.

A visible reminder that some institutions existed beyond individual lives.

The guards recognized him immediately.

Of course they did.

Formal greetings followed.

Protocol observed.

Permissions granted.

The carriage continued forward.

The palace grounds stretched around him.

Beautiful.

Precise.

Designed to impress.

They succeeded.

They always had.

Power expressed itself in many forms.

Architecture happened to be one of them.

A chamberlain awaited his arrival.

The Duke descended from the carriage.

Exchanged greetings.

Then followed.

The palace corridors seemed endless.

Marble floors.

Tall windows.

Imperial banners.

The quiet efficiency of a place accustomed to governing nations.

Servants moved with practiced grace.

Officials hurried between appointments.

Guards stood motionless at their posts.

The Empire lived here.

Not in its entirety.

But enough of it.

The Duke walked steadily.

Measured.

Controlled.

Years of political experience concealed any hint of tension.

At least externally.

Internally was another matter.

The chamberlain eventually stopped before a set of doors.

”The Emperor will receive you shortly, Your Grace.”

The Duke inclined his head.

The chamberlain withdrew.

Leaving him alone.

The waiting chamber was quiet.

Comfortably furnished.

Deliberately neutral.

Neither welcoming nor intimidating.

A place designed for patience.

The Duke sat.

Then waited.

Minutes passed.

Not many.

Enough.

The silence provided ample opportunity for thought.

Unfortunately.

His mind drifted inevitably toward Adrian.

The conversation they had shared.

The frustration in the young man’s voice.

The stubborn determination.

The pain.

The Duke closed his eyes briefly.

Because despite everything—

he did not hate Adrian.

That would have been easier.

Much easier.

Instead he understood him.

Sympathized with him.

And still intended to stand against him.

Life possessed a cruel sense of humor.

His thoughts shifted.

Marian.

Then Cassian.

Then back again.

Always back again.

Three young people.

Three futures.

Countless consequences.

The Duke exhaled slowly.

Whatever happened today, nothing would remain unchanged afterward.

That much seemed certain.

The doors opened.

The chamberlain returned.

”It’s time, Your Grace.”

The Duke rose.

Smoothed his sleeves.

Adjusted nothing.

Then followed.

The walk seemed strangely short.

A final corridor.

Another set of doors.

Imperial guards.

Silence.

Then the doors opened.

The Emperor’s office lay beyond.

The Duke entered.

The room was exactly as he remembered.

Large windows.

Bookshelves.

Maps.

Reports.

Power disguised as administration.

And behind the desk sat the most powerful man in the Empire.

The Emperor looked up.

Their eyes met.

Two men.

Two fathers.

Everything else felt secondary.

Formal greetings followed.

Protocol observed.

Titles acknowledged.

The familiar dance of rank and authority.

Necessary.

Brief.

Then the Emperor made a small gesture.

The remaining attendants withdrew.

The doors closed.

Silence settled over the room.

The audience had begun.

The Emperor regarded him for several moments.

Thoughtful.

Measured.

Impossible to read.

Then finally spoke.

”You requested this audience.”

The Duke inclined his head.

”I did, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor folded his hands.

His gaze never leaving him.

”Then tell me.”

The room seemed very quiet.

”Why should I release Marian Valmort from her engagement to my son?”

And just like that—

the battle began.

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