Chapter 15

“You seem to have forgotten your manners. Entering a room without invitation?”

Technically, Fernando didn’t need permission—he was the master of the Aiola estate, and there wasn’t a single room he didn’t have the right to enter. Still, Elaine threw the cold remark at him as she attempted to pass him by.

“I came to apologize.”

She stopped.

Turning back, she saw her brother looking at her with an expression she hadn’t noticed at first—a deeply pained one.

“I’m sorry, Elaine.”

She said nothing.

“You and Vanessa were right. I’ve been treating you like you’re still that six-year-old girl. I never let myself realize you’ve grown.”

He sighed and rubbed his face, weariness etched into every line.

“I was wrong, Elaine. You’re no longer a child. You’ve become a proper young lady, and I was too slow to accept that.”

“…Then sit,” Elaine said quietly. “Let’s talk. Anna, could you bring us something warm to drink? Something that might calm my brother’s nerves.”

“Yes, my lady!”

Anna, who had been lurking nervously in the background, scurried off gratefully. Elaine guided her stiff-backed brother to the sofa and sat across from him.

Soon, Anna returned with two steaming cups of tea, placed them carefully on the table, and slipped out, gently closing the door behind her.

Silence settled like dust.

Elaine reached for her teacup, her fingers brushing the handle. Fernando finally spoke.

“That day… fourteen years ago. When our parents died. When I became the head of the house.”

His voice was calm, but there was a shadow behind it.

“Do you remember, Elaine?”

Both of their parents had died suddenly, in the same tragic accident. Fernando was only eighteen when he inherited the Aiola title. While still grieving, he had to rise overnight to defend the estate from opportunistic relatives circling like wolves. And in doing so, he overlooked one thing: his little sister.

She had been only six.

“I didn’t watch over you properly,” he admitted.

There had been too much on his plate. The inheritance issues. The business assets. The estate. The political pressure. Suitors. Advisors. Insistent relatives.

And in the middle of it all… Elaine.

He hadn’t even realized she’d been ill—running a high fever all alone. He might never have known, if not for the unexpected appearance of a little boy: Prince Turner. Turner had ridden all the way from the palace, pleading for help.

If not for him… Fernando would’ve lost his sister. Exchanged her life for this cursed seat of power.

“You almost died that winter.”

That winter had been a cruel one for six-year-old Elaine.

After losing her parents, she was left alone in the vast estate. Her only brother, Fernando, though kind and protective, had always felt more like a distant guardian than a playmate. And now, he was overwhelmed with the responsibilities of headship. Elaine, even at six, understood that.

She didn’t cry for him. Didn’t cling. She watched silently as he was swept into a world of meetings, decisions, adult problems.

That was the moment when Elaine first understood something tragic: that love, even the kind that holds you every day, can vanish suddenly, without warning. What a cruel thing, to learn so young. And even though she didn’t yet understand death, she understood loneliness.

And so, she swallowed her grief. For her brother’s sake.

It was then that Turner appeared.

He too had been six years old—just a child—but he had come alone. Stolen his older brother Edmund’s carriage and rode through the capital to reach her.

“Elaine!”

“Turner!”

At the sight of him, Elaine had rushed down the stairs without hesitation, her face lighting up for the first time since the funeral.

“How did you get here? Did Her Majesty bring you? Or Princess Vanessa, or Crown Prince Edmund?”

“No,” Turner said proudly, chin tilted upward. “I came by myself.”

“I came to comfort you.”

“Me?”

Turner nodded. “Yeah. I overheard some of Lady Vanessa’s maids saying the little lady of Aiola needed cheering up.”

With a proud grin, he whipped out the basket he’d been hiding behind his back.

“Apple jam cookies!”

Elaine’s eyes sparkled.

They were her absolute favorite.

“Where did you get these?”

“Oh, I found them… on the way.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. He had, in fact, taken them from a silver platter on Vanessa’s table. Why she had cookies in her room—especially apple jam ones she never even liked—he didn’t know. But Turner wasn’t thinking about that. His thoughts had been too full of worry for Elaine to bother questioning it.

Vanessa hates sweets, he remembered, but she said it was okay if I took things for Elaine, just this once…

Vanessa’s room was a treasure trove of glittering, girlish luxuries—dolls, trinkets, books with golden edges. Sometimes, Turner would steal little things for Elaine. A ribbon. A charm. And now, cookies. Vanessa had known all along, of course.

Oh, Turner, she had teased once, throwing away your noble prince hood to become a petty thief for love? How romantic! What would Elaine think if she knew?

I-I’ll put it back, I promise—

No need. You may steal anything of mine, as long as it’s for her. You know I’ll always cheer for your love.

I-it’s not… I mean…

Don’t fight it, Turner. Love wins. So—did Elaine like that old rabbit doll you took?

Vanessa had far more fun teasing her little brother than scolding him. But after that, Turner had stopped taking her things.

Except for today.

He just couldn’t leave behind those cookies—not when he knew they’d make Elaine smile.

And they did. The moment she bit into one with a loud, satisfying crunch, she beamed so brightly it seemed to wipe all the sadness from her face. Her little hands cupped her cheeks, her eyes glimmered, and Turner could see—just faintly—that she’d been crying before he arrived.

“It’s delicious, Turner! Just like the ones at Prince Edmund’s tea party!”

Turner gave a little cough, pretending to be unaffected, though her rosy-cheeked smile made his heart beat faster.

“You can have them all.”

He handed over the entire basket.

Delighted, Elaine hugged it tightly with both arms. “Let’s go to my room! We can eat there!”

She took the lead, wobbling slightly as she climbed the stairs, the basket nearly as big as she was. Turner almost reached out to help, but she made it without stumbling once.

They sat down together at her child-sized tea table.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Elaine asked, popping another cookie into her mouth.

“I—I don’t like sweets,” Turner mumbled. “Too sugary. For little kids.”

“For little kids?” Elaine gasped, puffing out her cheeks. “That’s an insult to Prince Edmund! He said apple jam cookies are the most perfect dessert in the world!”

She munched away cheerfully, crumbs dotting the corners of her mouth. Turner swallowed hard, forcing himself not to ask for one. This was for her.

“Slow down, Elaine. You’ll turn into a pig.”

She froze.

Glared at him.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I meant… just… don’t choke. I won’t steal them.”

But just as the words left his lips—

The cookie in Elaine’s hand dropped to the floor.

She began to tremble.

“U-uhh…”

“Elaine?”

At first, Turner thought she was mad—pouting over his teasing.

But then—

“Ugh—urk!”

Blood spilled from her mouth in a sudden, violent cough.

“E-Elaine?!”

Turner panicked.

Her small body lurched forward. He barely caught her in his arms before she collapsed.

“Elaine—Elaine!”

He didn’t know what to do. Holding her trembling frame, he ran for the door and bolted down the hall.

The Aiola estate, which had been silent since the funeral, suddenly erupted into chaos.

And at that moment, the young master of the house, newly made heir to the Aiola name, was still away—three days gone to Prince Edmund’s palace, caught in the affairs of succession.