CHAPTER 138: THE BATTLEFIELD OF SILK

It was sundown.

Lydia still sat in the terrace, her eyes on the soft gold sunlight falling on the gardens. She hadn’t moved for a while. Her plate was empty. The tray of fruit and vanilla cake now held only leftovers. The sweet scent of nectar still lingered in the air, blending with the soft wind that brushed against her emerald robe. Her skin glowed, still fresh from her bath, and her hair lay damp on her shoulders.

Then came footsteps. It was Katherine. She approached with a careful look.

"We’ve reorganised your chambers, Your Highness. Just as you instructed," she said softly.

Lydia nodded. Her face didn’t change. But Katherine didn’t leave.

Lydia looked at her. "Say it."

Katherine hesitated. Then spoke. "It’s Lady Tatiana. She is... organising a family dinner. She asked me to tell you she’s inviting you."

Lydia stood up slowly. She stretched lightly and looked down at Katherine.

"Let’s go," she said.

Katherine was surprised. "You want to go?"

Lydia smiled, a faint cold smile. "My lady-in-waiting prepared a meal for the family. Of course I’ll attend. I must look my best."

---

The dining room was beautiful. The table was set like a royal feast. Candles burned softly. Plates, glasses, silverware—everything gleamed. There were trays of roasted meat, steamed vegetables, warm bread, sauces, sweet jams. The servants moved quietly, lighting candles and placing napkins.

Tatiana stood near the table. She looked pretty in a soft cream dress. Her hair was tied neatly in a bun with pearl pins. Her makeup was soft. She wore a necklace of tiny pearls. She kept looking at the door.

Then Ivan walked in.

He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept well. His face looked pale and cold. He didn’t greet Tatiana. He went straight to his chair and sat down.

"You said you had something important to say," he said. "What is it?"

Tatiana smiled gently. "Be patient. I’ll say it after dinner."

Then the door opened again.

Lydia walked in.

But she didn’t look like she came to eat.

She looked like she came to conquer. She wore a silk navy dress that hugged her like a second skin. The back was open, showing her glowing skin. Diamonds and silver glittered on her ears, her neck, and wrists. Her hair was brushed out like a waterfall.

Tatiana smiled politely. She pulled out a chair beside Ivan. It was Lydia’s usual seat. But Lydia didn’t even glance at it. She walked straight to the far end of the table, away from both of them, and sat down like they were nothing.

Tatiana’s smile faded for a second. But she sat down beside Ivan.

Dinner began. It was quiet.

Lydia ate slowly, like nothing in the world could bother her. Ivan barely touched his food. His eyes were always drifting to her. He stared at her as if he hadn’t seen something so beautiful in a long time.

Tatiana noticed. Her hands trembled under the table. Then she signaled a servant.

The servant returned with a tray. On it was a chocolate cake.

Tatiana giggled. "I had them make this because it’s your favourite," she said to Ivan.

He looked at her. Blank.

She smiled wider. "Do you remember when we were young? You told me your mother used to make this for you. But you didn’t have it often. So I used to steal it from home. When my father visited the palace to deliver the Queen’s jewels, I hid the cake and brought it to you. We used to sit in the stables and eat it together."

Ivan still said nothing.

She laughed. "We were really close back then. I think we were meant to always stay close. That’s why I’ve decided. I’ll stay by your side forever. No matter what."

Then Lydia spoke.

"Oh, wow. Such a touching story," she said in a soft, slow voice. "Shall I make a toast?"

Tatiana nodded. "Yes, please."

Ivan looked confused.

Lydia lifted her glass. "To both of you. The shameless unloved widow and the unwanted illegitimate bastard. You two really do make a lovely couple."

Tatiana’s eyes widened. Ivan froze.

Lydia gently put her glass down and rested her cheek on her palm.

"I wonder how it felt to be unloved by your father," she said, as if thinking aloud. "I wouldn’t know. My father pampered me like I was made of gold. I was his princess. Even when I was naughty, he never raised his voice. He used to call me his little bird. He gave me everything I ever wanted. I didn’t have to steal cake. I was served trays every day."

Tatiana opened her mouth, but Lydia kept going.

"That’s right, Lydia, how could you be so thoughtless?" Lydia mocked herself with a soft smile. "How could they ever know what love is? One’s father blamed her for her mother’s death. He hated her. The other is a reminder of his father’s shame. A child born from an affair."

"Lydia," Ivan said suddenly.

His voice was loud. Tatiana smiled inside. This was what she wanted. Ivan to snap.

But Lydia stood slowly.

"What? Did I lie?" she asked, looking at him.

Ivan stepped forward. "You are bleeding."

She frowned. "What?"

She looked down at her hand. There was a small cut. She hadn’t even noticed. Maybe from her glass.

Ivan reached for her hand, worried.

Tatiana stared. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Lydia pulled her hand away and walked out without a word.

Ivan didn’t move.

Tatiana gripped her dress tightly.

"You really are crazy about her," she said, trembling. "She insulted you. Your dead mother. And you just stood there watching her."

Ivan turned slowly.

"Let me warn you," he said, voice low and calm. "Don’t mess with her. Not again."

Tatiana raised her chin. "If not what? Don’t forget I’m carrying your child. Your heir. If I wanted, I could fall down the stairs. Or find something to drink. Then what? What would you do?"

Ivan looked at her for a long time.

Then he said softly, "Do it."

Tatiana froze. "What?"

"I dare you, Tatiana," he said. "Go ahead. But we both know you won’t. That child is your only weapon. Without it, you have nothing. So stop making threats."

Her voice cracked. "How could you say that?"

"Because it’s the truth. I already told you. I’ll take care of you and the child. I will provide. But I will not abandon Lydia. Not again."

---

In her room, Lydia sat calmly. Her hand was bandaged. The room still smelled of fresh velvet and wood polish. Everything looked new. Cold. Expensive. Perfect.

She hated it.

She stared at the mirror. Her face was blank. Her thoughts were not.

She hated how Ivan stayed calm when she insulted him. She hated how he ran after her only when she bled. How dare he?

She wanted him to scream. She wanted him to break. To hate her. To stop looking at her like he still loved her.

Then slowly, her lips curved into a smile.

"I know just what to do," she whispered.