“And who is this?” Lynette points to a crowned individual in the book.

Livia is momentarily distracted by her mother’s pretty nails, the small jewels on them glittering in the morning light, before she smiles, her round face lighting up, and eagerly replies, “Crown Pwince Phineas.”

Lynette finely trimmed eyebrows twitch at the mispronounced words, but not in irritation. Her beautiful face tries its best not to smile as she nods very seriously.

“That is correct, my sweet girl,” she says and cuddles her daughter's small body closer on her lap in praise.

Livia all but blooms under her mother's unwavering attention. She sits up straighter, her little nose shoving itself in the air as she points randomly on the page.

“I also know who this person is, mummy.”

Lynette pushes a stray lock of purple behind her daughter's tiny ear, and raises an eyebrow, “Is that so, sweet girl? Who is it then? Tell mummy. I have gotten so old, I need help refreshing my memory,” she says in a teasing tone.

Livia giggles before shaking her head frantically, her twin curling tails whipping around as she does, causing one of her black ribbons to come undone. Lynette fixes it automatically, unbothered.

“That’s not true, mummy! Mummy is the prettiestest and woungest person in all the land!” Livia says fiercely and puts on an expression of grave seriousness.

Lynette can’t bite down her own giggles and boops her little daughter's round nose with her finger, delighted.

“Well, if my sweet Livia says so, then it has to be true,” she says with a look of fond surrender.

Livia puffs up her small chest, “Ewactly.”

Lynette laughs again, and straightens the book on her lap, “Shall we get back to our important reading, dearest?”

Livia pauses in playing with a long necklace hanging around her mother's neck, blinking slowly. She turns to the book a second later as if it always had her full attention, and sticks her finger to the page.

“This is Pwince Rowdale, this is Pwincess Adanna, this is Pwince Orin and last, the baby, Pwince K-Koulton?”

“Prince Kolton, yes,” Lynette says, correct her daughter kindly, “He is the latest addition to the Royal House of Silvan.”

And how quickly they were to add the youngest royal to the book. The baby had only been born a month ago but the book had been made available only a week ago. Really, those royals. They weren’t even trying to hide their own egos. It was just as her mother said. The more time pass, the further people drew away from the old gods.

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Livia squints at the image, confused, “Um-”

“You are the sole heiress of the Valentine household, sweet girl. You do not say um,” Lynette scolds mildly and adjusts her two-year-old daughter on her lap.

Livia's brows scrunch up at the stupid rule, but she tries to voice her question without saying ‘um’ as her mother had instructed her. It takes her a few tries, but eventually, she manages.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Lynette asks, scanning over the pictures in the book as her other hand reach for the steaming cup of tea.

“How was baby Kou-I mean, baby Kolton made?” Livia looks intensely at the portraits, wondering how the small add-on came into being before tilting her head back so she can see her mother’s expression when she answered.

Lynette nearly spills her tea down her cleavage. She steadies her hand and hastily places the delicate cup back down as her giggles rose unbidden up her throat. She buries her chin into her daughter's soft hair, trying to gain control of the laughing fit. Instead, she lets out an un-lady-like snort in her great amusement.

Her toddler daughter startles at the noise, staring up at her with round purple eyes so like her father's.

Lynette is thrown into a laughing fit at the expression alone. To think she would see those eyes make such an open and unguarded expression!

Livia's surprise quickly turns into a petulant and angry pout, quickly realizing she is being laughed at.

“Mummy it’s not funny!” She scolds and crosses her pudgy little arms in a huff. She is just about to climb out of her mother’s lap and storm off when the doors to the sitting room slam open.

Livia and Lynette both jump as the bubble around them pops. For a moment, the two had forgotten the outside world even existed.

Lynette is quick to fix her expression as one of her young, personal maids rush to her side with a pale, drawn face. She sets her daughter on her feet and stands to meet Tinnty halfway across the room.

“What is it?” She asks in a low voice, picking up on the alarm.

Tinnty looks over her ladies shoulder, to the young heiress who had sat down to stare at the book by herself, quietly so as not to disturb her mother, completely oblivious to the turmoil she is about to face then back to her mistress. Her mind jolts at the word.

“My lady, he-he brought her here,” Tinnty says frantically, and then her eyes look out the doors of the extravagant sitting room as if she could see through walls.

Lynette shakes her head, uncomprehending, “Who? My husband?”

Tinnty swallows and nods, her eyes one of great pity and sympathy, “I saw them. The lord brought her through the secret entrance. She had a large cloak shrouding her form but there was no denying her white hair,” Tinnty moves closer to whisper in a somber voice, “My lady, the lord's mistress, well, she was obvious with child.”

Lynette's eyes focus over her maids' shoulder, her head slowly shaking as a smile crawl onto her face. She laughs, and the way it cracks into the air, the loudness, startles her.

“No,” she says after a while, her vision swimming when she shakes her head, “No, he wouldn’t.”

After everything, surely, her husband would not do this to her. He couldn’t! They had a deal. Lynette had even graciously let him return to that woman under the strict promise that he wouldn’t-, because she hadn’t been as foolish as her mother liked to believe. She hadn’t expected a perfect marriage, but she still had thought that she at least deserved the bare minimum. The respect as his wife. As his duchess. His partner.

“No,” she says again, and clutches her stomach, swaying.

“Duchess?” Tinny tries to steady her, but Lynette's stomach feels like a balloon, as if it was trying to float up and out of her and her eyes rolled back before darkness.

The last thing she saw was her sweet baby girl's face, drawn up in heart-wrenching distress for her mother.