CHAPTER 124: WHEN THE DEVIL ABANDONS YOU

It was a lovely day. The sun was out, and the snow was falling softly.

But it didn’t feel lovely to Lydia. Not at all. She stood quietly, watching everything around her crumble.

The grand duchess chambers, once filled with warmth and love, were now being emptied by the servants.

They packed all her belongings without a word, their faces full of pity.

Every gown, every book, every ribbon—each piece carried a memory.

And as each item disappeared into a chest, so did a part of her.

She didn’t stop them. She didn’t ask them to be gentle. She didn’t tell them which books were her favorites or which dress still held the scent of his cologne. What was the point? None of it mattered now.

None of it would bring her peace.

These walls had seen her laugh, cry, dance in her nightdress, curl up near the fireplace and read love letters she never dared to send.

Ivan had sat by her bed just nights ago, brushing her hair gently while reading her poetry with a soft smile—like he planned to love her forever.

Now... now he had vanished, like those memories didn’t mean anything.

She could still feel his fingers brushing through her hair, warm and slow, like he never wanted to stop. She could still hear his voice—low and kind—reading lines from a poem he said reminded him of her. He’d once told her, "If you ever leave, this room will lose its soul."

But here she was. Leaving. And the room looked exactly like how she felt inside. Empty.

She stood still as stone, her eyes wet, her heart hollow. After a while, the room was completely bare.

No trace of her remained.

It was as if she had never been there.

She was erased.

She hugged herself tightly, as if doing so would hold the pieces of her together. But it didn’t. Her body trembled, not from cold, but from the unbearable ache crawling up her spine, squeezing her chest until breathing became a chore.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She felt like she was floating in a nightmare, and yet she knew she was wide awake.

She even pinched herself, hoping she’d wake up from the pain. But it wasn’t a dream. It was her reality.

And this reality hurt more than anything she had ever known.

A soft knock came on the door.

Katherine stepped inside, her face blank, her voice low. "Everything is ready," she said.

Lydia gave a small nod and looked around the empty room one last time.

Then she slowly began to walk out. But her steps were slow. Her feet were heavy. Her heart was heavier.

Katherine walked beside her.

"I sent a message yesterday to your godmother. She’ll be waiting for you at the inn by the outskirts of Svetlana."

Lydia tried to wipe her tears. She could barely see.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Thank you."

Katherine stopped walking and turned to face her. "Your Highness... I’m sorry. My lady, you look pale. Are you alright?"

Lydia shook her head.

"No," she said.

"I’m not okay. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. I want to be with him. I love it here. I love him."

Her voice broke as sobs escaped her lips.

It came out all at once—the heartbreak, the fear, the helplessness. Her whole body shook. She didn’t care who saw. She didn’t care how weak she looked. She was in love. Desperately. Blindly. And now she was being thrown away like nothing.

He had promised her forever. He had touched her face like she was made of stars. Just days ago, he kissed the back of her hand and said, "You are my peace."

Now, he was gone. Just like that. Like none of it had ever happened.

Without thinking, Katherine reached out and wrapped her arms around her, holding her gently.

"I warned you," she whispered.

"I told you things could turn out like this. But you didn’t listen."

Lydia froze.

Her body tensed.

She pulled away from Katherine’s embrace and looked at her with pain and anger in her eyes.

"It was you, wasn’t it?" she asked. Her voice was sharp.

"You took the torn pages from my diary and gave them to him."

Katherine’s eyes widened.

"That’s not true," she said quickly.

"Don’t touch me!" Lydia snapped.

"Stay away from me." Her voice trembled with pain.

"I hope you’re happy. You ruined my life."

Katherine stepped back. Her eyes were glassy.

She bowed her head.

"I wish you well," she whispered before turning and walking away.

Lydia stood alone in the empty room.

Her chest ached. She could still see the memories of her and Ivan dancing around the space like ghosts.

His smile, his touch, the nights they shared. It all felt like a dream now.

A beautiful dream that had ended too soon.

It was too quiet. So quiet, she could hear her own heart breaking.

Another knock came on the door. This time, it was Tatiana.

She rushed in and pulled Lydia into her arms.

"Lydia," she whispered, "don’t cry. I’ll talk to him. I’ll think of a way to fix this. Just go now, please. I promise I’ll try."

Her voice was soft. Her hands warm. For a moment, Lydia wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe someone still cared.

Tatiana’s eyes were full of concern. Her tone gentle. It felt safe—for just a second.

And Lydia, so tired of crying alone, leaned into her.

She wanted someone to fight for her. She wanted someone to say, "I’ll bring him back to you."

Lydia nodded slowly, sniffing.

She didn’t have any strength left. No words. No fight. Just hope. A tiny flicker that maybe—just maybe—someone could save what was left of her.

Tatiana kissed her forehead and left quickly.

Lydia stood there, hoping.

Hoping Tatiana could do what she couldn’t.

Tatiana walked fast, her footsteps echoing through the hallway. Her expression was calm, serious, like a woman with a mission.

But midway, she slowed. She stopped. She looked around the empty corridor.

And then, something shifted.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

She tilted her head back slightly and laughed.

A quiet, satisfied laugh.

"Stupid girl," she said under her breath, shaking her head.

Her voice dripped with satisfaction.

Not a shred of regret. Not a flicker of guilt.

She didn’t go to Ivan.

Instead, she walked into her own room and closed the door behind her.

Still humming, she walked to her drawer and pulled out a piece of paper.

She sat at her desk and began to write:

Your Majesty,

I told you my plan would work. Everything has gone exactly how we hoped. I’ll expect my reward now.

Her handwriting was elegant, smooth, as if she were writing a love letter rather than a confession of betrayal.

She folded the note, tied it to the leg of a dove in a cage on her table, and let it fly out the window.

She sat back, smiling. Her humming didn’t stop.

There was no kindness left in her eyes.

Meanwhile, in another part of the palace, Katherine walked slowly toward Ivan’s study.

Her heart was heavy.

She knocked gently.

Ivan sat coldly behind his desk, a parchment in his hands.

He didn’t look up. "Is she gone?"

Katherine lowered her head.

"Not yet," she replied. "But everything is ready."

He nodded.

"You can leave."

She didn’t move. Her voice trembled.

"Your Highness, must you really do this?"

Ivan didn’t answer.

"That poor girl has nowhere to go," she continued. "You’re being too harsh. How can you treat her like this? Please, just listen to what she has to say."

Ivan scoffed, still not looking at her.

"Of course you would speak for her. Both of you are the same. Liars. You all work for her."

"Who?" Katherine asked softly.

"Her Majesty?"

"I don’t care about anyone’s opinion," he said sharply.

"Especially yours. You should be the last person to speak."

Katherine’s lips trembled.

"You still blame me for what happened... But how many times do I have to tell you? I wasn’t the one. I didn’t do it."

"It was found in your room," Ivan snapped.

"Along with your letters. So please, leave my presence."

His voice was cold.

Unforgiving.

"I and that girl are already divorced.

There’s nothing more to say."

Katherine stepped back, her eyes filled with tears.

"You’re only ruining your life, Your Highness."

Then she left.

Ivan didn’t watch her go.

He sat still, face like stone.

He didn’t care.

Outside, Lydia stood quietly in the hallway.

Her carriage was ready.

Her hands were shaking.

Her whole body felt weak.

This was it.

She was really leaving.

Leaving Svetlana.

Leaving the man she loved.

She wanted to go to him. Just to say goodbye. Just to beg one more time.

Maybe if he saw her, maybe he would remember their love.

Maybe if he looked into her eyes, he’d remember the nights they stayed up whispering until dawn, the mornings he kissed her forehead, the way he once called her his home.

But she didn’t move.

Because deep down, a voice told her he wouldn’t come.

He wouldn’t stop her.

And that was the part that hurt the most.

Not that she was leaving—but that he was letting her go.