His smug air of victory vanished.

“What is the meaning of this?” Richard asked darkly, scanning the bound records.

Jovine clenched her teeth, thinking of all the horrid accounts she had read from the files she forced out of a sleep-disheveled Maximus in the dead of night. “As if it wasn’t enough to be a faithless lecher…you’ve become a thief as well.”

Richard's brows twitched, a quirk she always knew preceded his temper. “Careful, Jovine. You would be wise to stop there.”

A hysterical laugh lodged at the base of her throat. She could have burst out in mania right then and there. Jovine slammed another folder in front of him. “Haven — sold.” Another file. “Reports of famine — ignored.” Another stack pummeled forcefully onto her husband’s desk. “Counterfeit expenditures from the Imperial Inventory — hidden.” One after the other, Jovine listed out every source of corruption. “Payments to nobles. Shortage of food. Unaccounted market cornering. Increasing indentured servants. Bartered properties.”

By the end, Jovine’s breaths came out in harsh staggers. “You have truly gone and made yourself a crook.”

“Stop,” Richard gritted out.

“Do you see what you’ve done to this Empire?” Jovine seethed, her voice rising in fury. “You’ve left it to rot. You’ve abandoned your people. You’ve —”

“STOP IT,” Richard bellowed, striking his fists against the wooden table until the horde of his transgressions cluttered to the ground. He stood, leaning over the desk until his fuming eyes met her fire. By the look on his face, she had now crossed a line she never toed, but Jovine would not back down. Not this time.

With their faces inches apart, she whispered in a scathing tone, “Your stars have extinguished.”

Taken aback by her tangent words, he frowned. “What?”

“‘My father says stars are the eyes of an Emperor,” Jovine began. “‘As far as the skies go, so should our eyes watching over the people. The cities. The homes and families.’” She echoed the words he had once spoken to her in the past. The words his father had said to him.

Richard’s eyes widened, and she swore a flinch worked its way into his gaze.

“You are now a lightless sky,” Jovine taunted.

As if she physically struck him, he abruptly withdrew and turned his back to her. All she saw were his swelling shoulders.

Jovine straightened. “Years of diligence into your parent’s legacy,” she continued, glaring at the back of his head. “One moment in your hands, and you burn it all down.”

She watched as he clenched his trembling fists.

Although the rage never settled, she picked apart his every movement. She counted each breath and tracked every twitch. She was here for one thing — the only thing that could set her on the path she had to take.

She needed to push him further.

“How could you?” she condemned. “How dare you?”

The switch was instant.

His body stilled. His breaths stopped heaving, his hands relaxed, and his shoulders lifted. But nothing was more chilling than the small laugh he released. With a sudden manner of casual composure, Richard ambled over to the small, round counter holding his heavy liquors. He unstoppered a large crystal glass and poured himself two fingers of amber liquid.

A frown indented her wary eyes.

“How dare I…” he mused as he languidly sipped. Another soft chuckle touched the air. When he finally faced her again, all traces of his previous distress were wiped away. “Everything I do, I do for the good of the Empire.”

“Good for the Empire? Or for you?” she challenged.

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Richard's pupils dilated. “I am the Empire. What difference is there?”

Disgusted and filled with hatred for the man before her, Jovine closed her eyes. Even the sight of his indifferent face sickened her. “Difference?” Her eyes snapped open, burning in revulsion. “Maybe we should take away your food. Your home. Your money. Your clothing. Your dignity. Your protection. If you are the Empire, you should suffer as they do.”

“No one is suffering, Jovine. They are fine. The Empire has never experienced a more prosperous —”

“YOUR PEOPLE ARE STARVING,” Jovine yelled. “The people who need you are not the nobles gorging on their wealth. They are not the ones reaping from your negligence. The families in the streets, the impoverished slums you’ve forsaken, they are the ones who need you more than anyone. And, yet, you’ve deserted them. Why? WHY?”

A hesitant flicker of uncertainty flashed across his face. Amidst her growing anger, Jovine didn’t miss the slip in his mask. His fingers quivered unsteadily, and his eyes appeared a little glazed. The shifting faces of her husband baffled her.

As if he couldn’t bear to show her the truth of his conflict, he turned away from her again. Ramming his glass onto the counter, his white-knuckled hands gripped the surface. Jovine’s eyes caught on the wedding band still encircling his fourth finger. Her chest convulsed at the sight of their broken promises.

One last judgment, and it’ll all be over.

Jovine took a breath.

Shoving her pride aside, she stepped forward.

“I can help you,” she started, forcing the words out in tight syllables. “I can put our differences and personal strife behind and stand with you. If it’s the pressure or the burden that’s forcing you to resort to such insanity, I will help you overcome it. Not as your wife, but as an Empress.” Jovine reached out, approaching her husband with one last chance.

Richard’s shoulders shook precariously. From anger or anguish, she would never know. Turning his head, his eyes settled on her extended hand. His stormy gaze met her bitter stare.

A rough hand seized her wrist and pulled her forcefully into his towering body. His unstable glare pierced into her. “I don’t need you,” he gritted out in a shaky voice. “I don’t need your ignorance or your sympathy.”

Contrary to his words, he tugged her closer until they were a breath apart. “Just because you can’t understand it doesn’t mean you can move me.”

“They would be ashamed of you,” she whispered, thinking of his departed parents.

Richard touched his forehead to her skin and wrenched her deeper into his chest with a spiteful look. “Well, then it’s a good thing they’re dead.”

Done.

Gone.

Broken.

Her last lingering connection to her husband shattered.

Wanting away with his touch, Jovine tried twisting her wrist out of his grasp, but he held on tight, unwilling to let her go. So, instead, she brought a hand to his collar and shoved.

“Remember this, Your Majesty,” she uttered in a cold, sharp voice. “Remember that I offered you my hand, and you were the one who didn’t take it.” She crumpled his tunic in her fingers. “You will come to regret this,” she simmered. “And when that day comes…I won’t be there to pull you out.”

His nostrils flaring, Richard grasped her waist with an unsteady hand, trying to cage her in his arms. But Jovine struck his chest, thrashing away from the heat of his body. As she looked away from his blazing eyes, he suddenly stumbled back, gripping his head as if it pained him.

She didn’t care.

Jovine swiftly whisked herself away and hastened towards the door. A loud crash and a hard thud rumbled through the room, but her thoughts were narrowed down.

I have to leave.

She thought she heard him whispering her name, but she slammed the door before it reached her.

Her mind raced furiously. She touched the coin in her pockets, thinking of what to say to Elias, when she spotted Emilia descending the stairwell to approach the Emperor’s chambers. The scene was too familiar, reminding her of the humiliation she endured the day Emilia Syrene was to be declared as Royal Concubine.

She wouldn’t be at the end of it this time.

Already breathing harshly, Jovine undid the top buttons of her gown. She mussed her hair and smudged the rouge on her lips with the tip of her thumb. Holding her head high, the Empress made her way towards her husband’s mistress in her disheveled state.

As soon as Emilia saw her coming from the Emperor’s room, a look of panicked confusion crossed her face. Near enough to watch her expression twist into insecure fear, Jovine brushed past her with a suggestive smirk.

Emilia snatched her elbow, keeping her from walking any further. “W-why do you look like that?”

Jovine raised a brow, looking down at her showing cleavage. “Oh, my,” she chuckled, redoing the buttons.

Her eyes widening in horror, Emilia glanced at the Emperor’s door. “Where are you coming from?” she cried, digging her nails into her arm.

Jovine ripped her hand away and threw it back to her side. “I’d give him a minute if I were you,” she whispered into her ear.

Maybe Elias was right.

Because nothing tasted sweeter than watching Emilia Syrene scamper to the Emperor, frightened that he had been unfaithful to her as he had been to his own wife.

Jovine's charade was a lie.

But boy did it feel good to strike.