"The Women's Association Supporting Families with Veterans? What kind of name is this? A circus?” My father-in-law puffs on his cigarette, frowns, and tosses a flyer on the table while mumbling obscenities about work. I notice him constantly writing something in a ledger with his hands tapping steadily on the computer, so familiar that he doesn't need to look up. However, observing him work is not my main purpose today, and we are not close enough to talk to each other. If it weren't for the matter of my assets, I would never be foolish enough to come find him.

I sit on the sofa, legs tightly crossed in a ladylike manner, quietly smiling as I swallow his insults. I simply don't want to make a fuss. I only need access to my accounts to donate to those who truly need it. The Drevolre estate is registered in my name, along with the assets Augustin used to marry me, all of which belong to me. I just never had any need for them. Conveniently, Landry has given me an opportunity to do something meaningful with my substantial wealth. I could have gone to the bank myself to do what I needed, but that would stir up some unpleasant stories about my husband's family. Moreover, if behind my father-in-law's cold demeanour still lies a trace of empathy, he may be able to help with his position as the bank's general manager. Though I don't consider myself a good daughter-in-law, I know I am a knowledgeable person, and that's why I discuss it with him instead of making the decision myself.

"It's a small organisation with the purpose of raising funds and supporting struggling families in these times," I softly reply, holding a cup of hot tea in my hand. "I just think we should lend a helping hand."

Then I turn to Lady Rose, who is sitting beside me. I look at her, offering a gentle and serene smile, and slowly say, "Mother's club can also contribute. We are in need of more resources."

"What kind of resources are you referring to?" Lady Rose gazes at me with scrutinising eyes.

"Money, people, food, clothing... Anything can be utilised," I respond, raising the teacup to my lips and taking a sip.

"I have never heard of this organisation," my mother-in-law dismisses my words without a second thought. I truly admire how she can continue calmly sipping tea without thinking about her two sons out there, while I and these women are trying to do something meaningful for them.

My father-in-law is no better. Not only does he ignore my efforts to spread awareness, but his action of flicking cigarette ash without a care further confirms that. He speaks in a cold tone, feigning concern.

"It's better to stay home instead of getting involved in such matters. Society is already chaotic enough, no need for more meddlesome women."

Honestly, I feel disappointed by the two of them. They are both knowledgeable individuals, highly regarded and esteemed in society, yet they seem indifferent to such a noble gesture. I let out a long sigh, slowly exhaling. I hastily finish my cup of tea, as if to conclude the conversation. Placing the cup on the table with no attitude, I say:

"I just wanted to ask if you both wanted to help me in supporting others. But it's okay, I can use my own money to contribute."

"What money of yours?" my father-in-law raises an eyebrow.

"My money," I respond firmly. I emphasise those words once again. "The dowry, the pre-marriage assets, and the post-marriage assets."

"I don't think so!" he dismisses angrily. "Those are our family's assets."

"They are the assets of the couple, father," I try to maintain my composure in the face of his blatant manipulation. "And the Drevolre estate is solely mine, according to what I remember when I married into this family."

"I don't think you've read enough books, Fiona."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

My father-in-law chuckles mockingly and takes out a fresh cigarette. He lights it and continues to laugh triumphantly as if he had just won a game of chess. Blowing out a puff of smoke, he leans back, arrogantly perched like a king looking down upon the people beneath his golden throne. In a condescending manner, he says:

"There is no property that belongs to you alone, Fiona," Lord Lionel Morten reaches for a piece of chocolate debris and puts it in his mouth. "Everything is jointly owned by the two of you. And you have no authority to make decisions about them on your own."

How could I be so foolish not to understand what has been happening right in front of me all this time? It turns out that everything I exchanged before was just a clever business manoeuvre that my father-in-law understood all too well. Lionel Morten truly lives up to his reputation as a shrewd figure in the business world. He knows that in London, regardless of which spouse's name is on the property, as long as it has legal effect after marriage, it is jointly owned. It means that both Augustin and I have the right to use them or earn money from them, but we no longer have sole decision-making power. I didn't know this, I wanted to leave the Drevolre estate for my siblings yet now it is associated with the Morten name instead of Lamstrong. Hasn't my effort been in vain? Haven't I been deceived into entering an unhappy marriage, only to lose my own name and everything that was once mine?

"I still have the right to use them."

I try to maintain calm, although inside me, I am eagerly awaiting an eruption. I wish I had enough knowledge about this before it became an unsolvable puzzle. I have been blatantly robbed, and only with divergent strength can I witness everything unfolding in its current manner. Now, I no longer cry, feeling unjust as before; the only thing I feel is disdain and contempt for these people. How can they be so at ease, setting up all the curtains of this drama? I wonder if, during the night, when they sink into sleep, all these matters will appear and haunt them.

"I don't think so, Fiona," Mr. Lionel says, narrowing his eyes. "Your money must stay within our family. I don't think you have any other choice, my daughter."

I wish I could continue enduring this resistance, but I can't. I stand up, hesitantly but resolutely, and face him. This is the first time my father-in-law and I have the opportunity to confront each other directly and "intimately." I pick up the discarded flyer he callously threw on the table, tears of helplessness streaming down as if they can no longer be restrained. In my anguish, I question:

"How can you do this? It is our family's inheritance. Drevolre is mine."

"I only do what is necessary for my family," Lionel replies coldly. "You are a Morten; how many times do you and your mother need to be reminded of that?"

Once again, my fate is brought forth like a talisman, and they have successfully exploited it to shackle me. My left hand clenches tightly into my right; the pain will help me maintain composure without succumbing to futile actions. Personally contending with all these forces is truly overwhelming for someone like me. I have become accustomed to having Andermis by my side. I have become accustomed to him bestowing and assisting me. He knows what to do or say in situations like this. I am not like him. I don't know what to say or do, except to appear weak and defeated. Oh! How can I continue to exist if Andermis does not return? I no longer know; everything seems incredibly hazy now.

"Just imagine if I couldn't use my own assets at will, but you couldn't do anything for those suffering outside," I try to use words to persuade him, even though the remnants of conscience within him remain blurry. "They also go to war, like your two sons. I just want to be able to lend a helping hand."

My father-in-law pauses for a moment, his eyes shifting as if contemplating. Could those words make his tormented soul become slightly more benevolent? Until now, I still cling to the belief in this class, that what dominates them is no longer just relentless money, that they still have other things to cherish. But perhaps I was mistaken.

Mr. Lionel slowly looks at me with a pair of sympathetic eyes, only to quickly douse me with a bucket of cold water.

"I don't think so."

What more can I say when everything I can think of is treated with such extreme coldness? I nod my head at both of them before leaving that oppressive room. I hurry upstairs to Francine because that's the only place that still holds me in this prison.

Suddenly, it starts pouring rain outside, as if taking over the remainder of my tears. I stand by the window, with the little one in my arms, silently gazing at the cascading raindrops on the glass. Unconsciously, I place my finger on a droplet on the other side of the pane. I wonder if it can carry these thoughts to the battlefield. My heart cannot cease its yearning even when I only think of him. A repeated mistake, in the same manner, with the same justification. I only cherish someone once I've lost them. I fear that I will lose Andermis forever. I fear that I will never know if my letters were opened. I miss Andermis. I long for him passionately every day, every hour, every single moment of my life, and now I have to prepare myself that I may have to shut down all those emotions. Once again.