"Oh... so that is how it is."
Olivia took a calculated step backward, her posture recovering its icy, aristocratic poise in a fraction of a second. She offered a shallow, formal bow. "My apologies for disturbing your peace... Your Grace."
She turned on her heel, her black veil swaying as she prepared to leave the bitter Duchess behind. But before she could take another step, a pale, trembling hand shot out. Serene gripped Olivia's forearm with a sudden, desperate strength, pulling her backward—not into a confrontation, but into a tight, crushing embrace.
Olivia froze, her breath hitching as the scent of her mother's grief enveloped her.
"Olivia..." Serene's voice was a fractured, barely audible thread against her ear. "Tell me... please. Did she suffer? Did she feel a lot of pain when she died? I know... I know I sound completely insane right now. But no matter how twisted she was, she came from my flesh. She is a part of me... I am still her mother."
