Es stood there, her expression composed, but her mind was racing, flooded with mories and frustrations she couldn’t voice aloud.
The laws of this world provide rs with strong security, and when there is a r and a woman involved, there is a 90 percent chance that the law will declare the woman wrong.
It was always the sa, wasn’t it? Even when rs like him did wrong—when they assaulted or tried to force themselves on won—it was the won who had to suffer too. People didn’t get it, didn’t understand how much it hurt. Only those who lived through it knew the depth of that suffering.
Her eyes wandered around the room, but her thoughts were far away. How many tis had she been falsely accused, how many rs had turned up, claiming absurd things? rs who brought their offspring, asserting that Es had sohow been responsible, producing strange "evidence" that no one could trace. Every ti, she had to defend herself, justify her existence, her choices, and every ti it ended the sa: *It’s your fault. Just accept it.*
*But why?* Es thought bitterly. *Why is it always the woman who has to accept it? Why is it so easy for them to say I should just deal with it? Don’t I deserve to live my own life, to love who I choose?*
She rembered how often she’d longed for peace, for a simple life with soone she cared about. But no—there was always soone, always a r, clinging to her, trying to entangle her in their sches. It was exhausting. Suffocating. And when the truth finally surfaced—when the r’s lies were exposed—no one ever apologized. They just stared, acted like nothing had really happened. Like her pain didn’t matter.
*No damage done,* they would say. As if her dignity, her right to choose, was aningless.
Her thoughts churned with anger. *Why is it that when a woman suffers, the world shrugs? Why is her pain so easily dismissed?*
She straightened her clothes, adjusted her hair with quick, sharp motions. On the outside, she appeared calm, collected. But inside, her frustration was growing. *They won’t control . Not anymore. They won’t decide who I am.*
Her thoughts were a whirlwind, but she maintained her outward calm, her face revealing nothing of the storm inside.
A heavy silence settled over the room, so thick it seed to stifle the air itself. Kai sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead in frustration. He couldn’t deny it—he was angry, furious even—but the truth was, he knew deep down it wasn’t Es’s fault. She was trapped in this situation because of them, forced to live under an alias, bound by the contract that forbade her from revealing her true identity as Es Valhalle. She had to live as Rose Reingard, a mask that protected her but suffocated her at the sa ti.
Still, how could he stay calm? The image was seared into his mind—the mont he heard her voice trembling through the mind connection, telling him she had been drugged and was in trouble. The panic he felt was unlike anything he’d ever known. He had rushed out of the office, leaving everything behind, heart pounding as he hurried to her. And when he arrived... what he saw still made his blood boil.
That bastard had been on top of her, and Es, barely conscious, was close to fainting. The helplessness, the fear that coursed through him—it was unbearable. His irritation had nowhere to go, and so it had lashed out, unreasonably aid at her.
But now, as the silence in the room stretched on, Kai understood that his anger was misplaced. Es didn’t deserve his wrath. She was the one suffering most, and yet he had made it worse.
Ray, who had been observing the quiet tension, finally broke the silence. He inhaled deeply, his gaze sweeping over the room, before his voice cut through the stillness.
"Enough," Ray said, his tone resolute but calm. "I believe we have reached a saturation point with this matter for the ti being. We can revisit the discussion at a later date.."
His words seed to defuse the tension sowhat, though the air was still heavy with unspoken emotions. Kai glanced over at Es, guilt flickering in his eyes. He had no right to direct his anger toward her, and he knew it. But it didn’t erase the frustration he felt about the situation.
He could only hope that, in ti, they could address everything properly. For now, though, Ray was right. There were more pressing matters to deal with, and lingering on the past wouldn’t solve any of them.
Ray turned, his gaze sharp as it settled on Es. "Who do you think is behind this?" His voice was low, strained, yet it carried the weight of his frustration.
Es smirked, the edges of her lips curling upward, but there was no humor in it. Instead, her expression dripped with disdain, a loathing that simred just beneath the surface. "Do you even need to ask?" she replied in a mocking tone, her voice cutting through the tension like a razor.
As soon as her words filled the air, the room fell into an uneasy silence. It was a truth they all knew but rarely spoke of. The Aron brothers, Ray included, were well aware of the puppet master behind the scenes. It was second aunt. Her fingerprints were all over this ss, subtle but unmistakable. She had been pulling strings for years, manipulating from the shadows, yet always managing to evade any form of retribution.
Ray’s jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching. They had tried, ti and again, to expose her. To drag her into the light where they could finally make her pay for all the chaos she had caused. But no matter how much they investigated, how ticulously they searched, she never left any evidence behind. Every move she made was calculated, every trace of her involvent wiped clean.
The frustration in the room was palpable, but there was also resignation. If they could’ve touched her by now, they would have. But without proof, without a way to make her culpable, they were left with nothing but bitter knowledge and bound hands.
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