CHAPTER 125: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE

The kitchen was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the dying embers in the huge stone hearth. Carlos poured water from a clay pitcher into a silver goblet. The cool water splashed softly, a peaceful sound that was suddenly shattered by a commotion outside.

He walked to the kitchen door, which opened onto the servants’ courtyard leading to the main gate. He pushed it open slightly and peered out.

He saw them. Two guards were dragging a woman toward the heavy iron gates. It was Senna. She was kicking and screaming, her voice wild and shrill in the night air.

"The Grand Duke is impotent!" Senna shrieked, her words echoing off the stone walls. "You married a useless man, Marissa! The Grand Duchess is a living widow! He can’t touch you! He can’t touch anyone!"

The guards didn’t stop. They hauled her to the gate and threw her out onto the dusty road, tossing her bag of belongings after her. The gate slammed shut with a clang of finality.

Carlos stood in the doorway, holding the goblet of water. A slow, incredulous smile spread across his face.

"Derek can’t function?" he whispered to himself. He let out a low, dark laugh. "This is interesting. Very interesting."

It explained so much. Why Derek had no children. Why he had never touched his wife until now. Why he spent time outside, supposedly going to pleasure houses but never seemed to have a favorite. It wasn’t discipline. It wasn’t pickiness. It was weakness.

"If he cannot produce an heir," Carlos thought, his mind racing with new possibilities, "then my child... my son... is truly the only future for this family after Ryan’s passing. The title is practically mine."

He took a sip of water, savoring the taste of victory. He turned and walked back through the silent house, his steps lighter than they had been in weeks.

He entered his bedchamber. The room was warm and smelled of roses and medicine. Ashlyn was sitting up in bed, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes closed in fervent prayer.

"I beg you," Ashlyn whispered into the quiet room. "Protect my child. Keep him safe. Let him be strong."

She looked fragile in the dim light, her hair loose around her shoulders, her face pale.

Carlos set the goblet of water on the bedside table with a soft thud.

Ashlyn opened her eyes. She looked at him, then at the water. She reached for it with a trembling hand.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Carlos watched her drink. He didn’t feel pity. He felt ownership. She was the vessel carrying his future.

"You don’t need to waste your strength praying when your last scheme," Carlos said, his voice stern, "almost cost us our child. You were reckless."

Ashlyn lowered the goblet. She looked down at her hands.

"I was careless then," she admitted.

Carlos walked to the foot of the bed. He leaned against the heavy wooden post, crossing his arms.

"You are with child now," he said, his tone commanding. "You must be careful in everything. You are not just Ashlyn anymore. You are the mother of the heir. Don’t provoke Marissa anymore. Stop all your little schemes.

He frowned, looking at her as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

"You two are sisters," Carlos said, shaking his head. "Why are you always targeting her? Since the moment she arrived, you have been at her throat. Why?"

Ashlyn sighed. She set the goblet down. She looked at the candle flickering on the table, her expression distant.

"You don’t know," she said softly. "You don’t understand our fate."

She turned to look at him, her eyes serious.

"A soothsayer once said my sister and I share opposing fortunes," Ashlyn explained. "When one rises, the other falls. We cannot both be happy. We cannot both be powerful. It is a balance. If she is the Grand Duchess, I am nothing. If I am the mother of the heir, she must be barren."

She looked at him, trying to make him see her logic.

"I targeted her for your sake, Carlos. To ensure our rise."

Carlos was silent. He thought it was superstition, nonsense that women told themselves to justify their jealousy. But he let her speak.

Ashlyn continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if she were confessing a secret she had held for too long.

"I thought switching marriages would help," she murmured, almost to herself. "I thought if I took the second son, and gave her the Grand Duke, I would avoid the pain. I thought I could change the prophecy."

She clenched her fists on the blanket.

"But she still suppresses me everywhere," Ashlyn said, her voice bitter. "She still wins. She still rules the house."

She took a deep breath and touched her stomach. A small, triumphant smile touched her lips.

"But now it is different," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I am with child now. A real child. This changes the balance. This should reverse our fortunes. She has the title, but I have the future."

She smiled, lost in her own reasoning, feeling secure for the first time in days.

She didn’t notice the silence in the room. She didn’t notice that Carlos hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken.

Slowly, she raised her head to smile at him, expecting to see his approval.

She saw his expression.

Her smile faltered. It froze on her face, then cracked and fell away.

Carlos was staring at her. His eyes were wide, not with anger, but with a look of total, bewildered disbelief and confusion. He looked like a man who had just heard a ghost speak.

"Switched marriages?" Carlos asked.

His voice was very quiet.

Ashlyn’s heart stopped. The blood drained from her face, leaving her cold. She realized what she had said. In her comfort, in her belief that they were finally partners, she had let slip the one truth she had never meant to tell.

"I..." Ashlyn stammered. "I didn’t mean..."

Carlos took a step forward. He walked to the side of the bed. He looked down at her, searching her face.

"What do you mean, ’switching marriages’?" Carlos asked again, his voice harder this time.