I DIDN'T DARE CRY.

Once I was ushered into my rooms and locked in, I sat in the center of my bed and I did not cry. It wasn't because I refused to cry in order to put on a brave front. It wasn't because I was being inwardly stubborn or because I cared out being strong. I didn't cry because if I started I would turn into an animal. The last thing I wanted to do was give Victoria the satisfaction of turning me feral. So, I did not cry.

I didn't even move to adjust myself into a comfortable position. If I could forfeit the ability to blink and breathe, I would've done that too. All I wanted to do was fight the urge to surrender to rage and sorrow. I had to think clearly, there was no other option. Matthew wanted to institutionalize me. I could not let that happen, I would not. I knew that if I committed to an asylum, it would be the end of me. My father had shown me as much when my mother died. I remembered when he took me There like it was yesterday. There was a soft knock on the door followed by the click the lock. Bert carried a plate of food.

"Food," I whispered. He set it on my nightstand.

"I am so sorry, ma'am. I'm sorry for everything."

I didn't look at him or the plate even though my stomach was starting to ache. "You have nothing to feel sorry for."

"But I am, ma'am. I'm so very sorry. You deserve so much more than to be sent to..." He paused here. People didn't like saying the word. It was a dirty, scary word. "You deserve more than being sent away."

"I'm not going anywhere," I replied quietly.

Bert didn't say anything. There was no point in contradicting me. "Do you require anything else?"

"Was there anything wrong with her child? Do you know?"

"Dr. Farmington said that it appeared the baby was healthy. He attributed the pains to stress."

"Right," I said blandly. Stress.

"I cannot be here for too long. It wasn't the one who was supposed to bring you your plate, I traded in a favor." In the corner of my eye, I saw Bert bow. "Ma'am." The door closed softly behind him.

🥀

"You decided to send me an urgent message in the middle of the night to summon me to your house," Frances began. Matthew and Frances were seated in the drawing room across from each other with whiskey glasses in hand. Matthew had already had his glass filled twice before Frances had arrived. He stood up to fill his glass again.

"I did summon you. And it was urgent."

"Why?" Frances asked incredulously. "What could we possibly have to say to each other?"

"Ms. Axel threatened to kill the parents of my betrothed. I'm going to take her to the asylum in the morning," Matthew said, matter-of-fact.

Frances didn't even question the use of her maiden name. He would've, under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances. The messenger he sent had practically taken him from his home under duress. "What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"Ms. Axel claims that it was Victoria who threw the first stone. Apparently, my mistress has been plotting to kill her." Matthew finished pouring the whiskey in his glass and sat back down. "I don't believe it for a second, of course. I—"

"Whitfield!" Frances bellowed. "I didn't let you drag me out of bed for a monologue. Why am I here?"

"She told me to call you down here before I believed Victoria's claim about threatening her parents. I dismissed it as nervous lies, at first. But, the longer I thought about it, the more it bothered me. Why would Ms. Axel reference you to support her story? You hate her."

"I don't hate her," Frances replied, exasperate. "I can't confirm whether Rose told Victoria she would kill get parents. She probably did."

"She admitted to doing it. But why would she ask for you to help her side?"

Frances grit his teeth. He should just let him do this, right? He didn't like Rose. She had the ear of his wife. which was dangerous, because he knew Rose had no love for him either. Once she was in the asylum, he could bribe one of the guards to let Elizabeth see her every once in a while. It would only last so long, until Elizabeth's pity for her once dear friend disappeared once they built a family. He hoped that was soon. He'd been trying to get that woman pregnant forever. He could just let Matthew do this. It would be easier.

Frances sighed. "Your mistress was in fact plotting to kill Rose. She recruited me to do it. As soon as I learned of this, I told Rose so she could protect herself. Rose likely threatened Victoria's parents as a way to foil Victoria's murder plans." They were silent after that, the two men. Frances got up to pour himself a drink before sitting back down. "Can I go home now?"

"I love her. I love Victoria. I must marry her," Matthew said quietly.

"Do what you will, Whitfield. I really don't care."

"She would've been a murderess. She would've killed Ms. Axel."

"We were doing our best to stop that. I couldn't let that happen. Elizabeth would've been devastated."

"She's probably the only person who would've been sorry Ms. Axel was gone," Matthew went on.

That man would just keep talking, Frances thought. Matthew could mumble to himself all night if he wanted to. Frances was going to go to bed. He stood up and headed for the door with that thought in mind , but he couldn't stop himself from turning around. "Ms. Axel," he said dryly.

Matthew looked up at him from his glass. It was as if he was broken from a trance. "What?"

"Are you still going to do it? Are you really going to institutionalize her after what I just told you?"

Matthew's face hardened. "Good-bye, Dubois."

Frances feigned a smile. "You don't have to say it out loud if you don't want to, Whitfield. But don't lie to yourself."

"Bert!" Matthew yelled. The butler, who was just outside, entered. "Escort Mr. Dubois to his carriage."

"It didn't matter if Victoria killed her by cutting off every limb from her body—"

"Out!" Matthew roared.

"—Rose would never have killed Victoria's parents. Not in this lifetime or the next," Frances finished.

"Sir," Bert uttered to Frances pleadingly.

Frances raised his arms in mock surrender. "Don't worry." He gave a last admonishing glance to Matthew. "I'm gone."

🥀

I woke up with a start the next morning, still sitting in the center of my bed. Sometime in the middle of the night I'd gave in to hunger and devoured meal set before me. I didn't even have time to blink the sleep out of eyes before I heard a the lock click on my door. It was Matthew. "Come with me."

I stared at him blankly. Would I go fighting or obediently, like a lamb to the slaughter? Which preserved the most of my dignity?

Matthew took my arm. It wasn't forceful or violent. He just took it. "Come with me." I slowly followed his lead out of my room and down the staircase. It was like I was in a dream. Maybe if I pretended it was a dream it would become just that. We sat across from each other in the carriage. Matthew didn't even pretend he wasn't staring at me. It was so unnerving.

I watched outside the window to distract myself. It really was the perfect day outside. The sky was a crystal clear blue and fluffy white clouds and a fat sun smiled down at me. We drove several minutes through the countryside. The terrain looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"We aren't going to an asylum," Matthew said suddenly.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm so sure. Are you going to throw me off a cliff instead?"

"No," Matthew answered simply. "I told you to apologize to apologize for what you did and you refused."

"I have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Whitfield. There were black clouds billowing in the breeze. I narrowed my eyes. Was that smoke?

The carriage suddenly stopped and my mouth fell open. It was on fire. Eric Blossom's house was on fire. My paralyzing shock quickly melted into hysteria. I clawed at the carriage door. I wiggled the door open and stumbled out.

The whole cabin was enveloped in flames. It roared fiercely with thick black smoke emanating about it. I fell to my knees and let out a feeble scream. "What have you done?" I whispered. I turned around to face Matthew who had followed me out of the carriage. "What have you done?!"

"You mean, what have you done," Matthew replied evenly.

I lunged forward at him but Matthew caught my wrists in his hand. "He had a child," I screamed. "He had a son. How could you? How could you? They're innocent."

"I didn't do anything." Matthew's face was blank. "You did this. You refused to apologize." I fought to release myself from his grip. "Stop fighting me, Ms. Axel. It's pathetic."

"You're a monster. You burned down his livelihood..you burned down.." I could barely get the words out. "How could you?" My eyes widened. "We're they in there? Did you at least...my god did you burn them in the house too?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't go to that extreme. It's unnecessary."

I spat in his face. "Let go of me! Let go! Let go!"

"I won't do anything until you calm down."

"Let...go Matthew."

"It's Mr. Whitfield," he said coldly.

"Let me go! LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" I didn't stop screaming. I couldn't stop. He let me scream myself hoarse until I fell to the ground again. I couldn't stop crying. I wouldn't stop crying.

Matthew crouched down beside me so his mouth was level with my ear. "Remember this, Ms. Axel. Remember the sorrow and the pain. I don't want you to ever forget what it feels like to cross me or Victoria. If you ever do something like this again, the outcome will be ten times worse than this."