Flowers fall, love and hate are balanced.

Victoria's Palace.

Victoria, Andrea's aunt, gazed at her with an ache of pure tenderness. "Oh, my poor child. What have they done to you?"

At that, Andrea finally shattered. A sob tore from her throat. "Auntie... I want a divorce."

The wave of emotion was overwhelming. Her vision swam, then darkened completely as she collapsed.

She came to with Victoria looking down, a complex sorrow shadowing her eyes. "Andrea... you were pregnant."

Andrea went utterly still. Her hand drifted slowly to her abdomen.

Victoria drew a steadying breath, her voice soft with regret. "But the baby... didn't survive. I'm so sorry."

A shudder ran through Andrea. A profound emptiness hollowed her out, followed by a hot, silent flood of tears she could not stem.

"Maybe... maybe it's for the best," she whispered, her voice scraped raw. "I came here to ask for a divorce anyway."

Victoria watched her, deep concern etched on her face.

"Don't worry, Auntie. I'm... I'm alright. After all..." Her voice faded, memories of two years ago rushing in.

The Mid-Autumn Banquet, two years past.

One moment, William had been smiling softly, placing choice morsels in her bowl. The next, his sword was pointed at *her*—all because Sandra had coughed up blood.

She remembered stumbling back, shaking her head in frantic denial.

She had felt the cold kiss of his blade at her heart twice before. The terror of it was bone-deep. She had fallen to her knees, begging, but he only advanced, his sword unwavering.

When the steel pierced her for the third time, something else happened.

This time, the blood was not just from her chest.

While everyone crowded around Sandra, the life within her had silently seeped away, lost in that spreading crimson stain.

Perhaps the seed of disillusionment was planted then. Or perhaps it was on her wedding night, when he had thrust a sword into her before even lifting her veil.

Now, after being discarded for Sandra time and again, that seed had finally taken root and hardened into a single, unshakable resolve.

"Auntie," Andrea said, her voice eerily calm. "I *will* have my divorce."

Victoria studied her placid face, then reached out to stroke her hair with aching fondness. "Andrea, the Emperor is away for the monthly rites. Wait until he returns to the palace. I will secure the decree for you then."

"Use this month to regain your strength. And take stock of your dowry. Everything that is yours."

Looking at her aunt's caring expression—a look she had only ever seen William give Sandra—fresh tears welled in Andrea's eyes. She wept for the three wasted years of her life.

After a few days of rest in the palace and finalizing plans with Victoria, Andrea left for William's Family Estate with Layla. She was exhausted, body and soul, and desperately needed peace.

But the moment she stepped through the estate gates, a sharp voice sliced across the courtyard.

"Halt! Have you no manners? Do you not see your elders? Was all that etiquette training for nothing?"

It was Ariana, William's mother, glaring at her with open displeasure.

Andrea thought of the single month left. *Best not to stir trouble.* Summoning the last of her energy, she forced herself into a curtsy. "Mother. Aunt Dorothy."

The motion made her head spin. The world tilted; she swayed, stumbling sideways.

Layla moved swiftly, catching her before she fell.

Ariana slammed a hand on the table. "Andrea! What is this pathetic act? Has this house ever mistreated you?"

Dorothy, standing beside her, sniffed with derision. "Sister-in-law, it seems you didn't marry a daughter-in-law, but welcomed a fragile princess. A simple curtsy, and she faints from the strain."

Seeing Andrea's deathly pallor, Layla burst into tears. "Madam, my lady, she's not—"

Before she could finish, Ariana shot a look at a matron behind her. The woman stepped forward and struck Layla hard across the face.

"Insolence! Who gave you, a servant, leave to speak? Hold your tongue!"

Layla was immediately dragged aside. Andrea, now unsupported, barely managed to steady herself. The sickening sound of blows and Layla's muffled cries filled the air.

"Layla!"

Panicked, Andrea rushed forward, shoving the matron away and pulling Layla to her feet. "Mother, Layla is under my care. If she has erred, I will discipline her myself in my own quarters."

This defiance sent Ariana into a rage. Her finger trembled as she pointed at Andrea. "How dare you! Am I, the mistress of this house, not permitted to discipline a mere maid? Guards!"

At her command, maids and matrons swarmed forward, seizing Andrea and Layla.

"Take the young mistress to the ancestral hall! No food is to be sent. Let her reflect on her behavior!"

"As for that little maid, thirty lashes! Then sell her off!"

On Ariana's unspoken order, the women pinched and twisted the flesh of their captives. Sharp pain made Andrea and Layla struggle violently.

The scene descended into chaos.

"What is the meaning of this?"

A cold, authoritative voice cut through the noise. William stood there, supporting a pale Sandra, his brow furrowed as he took in the commotion.