CHAPTER 142: THE DAUGHTER OF THE SEA

The ball began.

It was the third one Lydia had hosted in just a week. No one in Svetlana could remember such a thing happening before. Three lavish balls, one after the other, as if the rules and whispers meant nothing to her. Of course the whole city was talking about it. And now, everyone wanted to see her with their own eyes.

The first ball had been gold-themed. The nobles still could not forget the shimmer of her dress and the rich, glowing decorations. Some swore it had looked like the whole ballroom was dipped in sunlight.

The second ball had been stranger. It was meant to be in honour of the royal family, but it had felt like a mockery. She had come dressed in pure black, her gown flowing like liquid shadows. It was not ugly — in fact, it was breathtaking — but it looked like she was mourning someone. Many said it was as if she was attending a funeral. The gossip had been endless.

And now, here she was, hosting another. This time, it was Ocean-themed. People wanted to see the decorations, yes, but more than that, they wanted to see her. They wanted to see the woman who, according to whispers, openly humiliated her own husband in public. They wanted to see her dance and laugh with other men while the Grand Duke, proud and quiet Ivan, stood watching her helplessly.

Basically, everyone had come for the drama.

The ballroom was already full. Every noble in the city seemed to be there. It was just as they expected. The room looked like it had been stolen straight from the sea. Pearls glittered in the candlelight. Starfish and seashells were placed carefully along the walls. Even the glasses for drinks were shaped like shells. Fishes swam lazily in large glass containers set in corners for people to admire. The air was thick with the smell of salt and the sweetness of wine. Only seafood was served.

Ivan stood quietly at one corner. His tall frame made him noticeable, but his expression was unreadable. He looked more worried than interested in anything happening.

Then, the music stopped.

All eyes turned to the staircase.

Lydia walked down slowly. Her steps were soft but confident. The light caught her sea-blue dress, making the pearls shimmer as if they were drops of water. The blue diamond tiara sparkled in her curled hair. Her necklace and bracelets gleamed against her skin. She looked like the ocean itself — calm on the surface but dangerous beneath.

The room seemed to hold its breath. She had that effect on people. Her family had owned ships, after all. She was a daughter of the sea.

Ivan’s eyes softened when he looked at her. He did not move. He simply watched her as if there was no one else in the room.

The ball continued. Soft music began again. Couples danced in the middle of the floor. Laughter and quiet conversation floated in the air. Lydia stood tall in the centre, greeting those who came to her.

Tatiana walked toward her, her smile polite but her eyes sharp. She leaned in slightly and whispered in a sweet voice, "You look very beautiful, Your Highness."

Lydia looked at her, gave a small smile, and replied, "Thank you." But instead of returning the compliment, she let her eyes roam over Tatiana’s dress and then said calmly, "You look... okay, I guess."

Her tone was casual, as if she were speaking to herself, but loud enough for Tatiana to hear. "Well, not everyone can shine like you, Lydia," she added with a little laugh. "Some people are just... normal looking. No matter what they wear."

Tatiana’s hand tightened around her dress, but her face stayed polite.

"You are not dancing tonight?" Tatiana asked after a pause, her voice light. "Everyone is wondering who the lucky man will be tonight." She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Some nobles are even saying you have no sense of shame — a married woman dancing with other men. But of course, just ignore them. Gossip is nothing."

Lydia’s voice turned cold. "If you want to dance with my husband, go ask him. Stop sticking to me like a fly." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And unlike you, I do have a sense of shame. I am not the one who proudly slept with another woman’s husband and still has the audacity to show up in public. You must have been starved of love since your husband’s... unfortunate demise."

Tatiana’s voice suddenly rose. "He wasn’t even married at that time!"

The music stopped again. All eyes turned toward them.

Lydia did not even flinch. "And so?" she said calmly.

Tatiana’s face was red. "Stop making it sound like I slept with your husband."

"But you did," Lydia replied simply. "Whether or not we were married, you slept with him. From what I heard, you threw yourself at him. You should be grateful I do not blame you for my husband’s infidelity. I am still letting you — and the child you carry — live."

The crowd gasped. Whispers started instantly.

They were shocked. Some muttered, "She slept with the Grand Duke? And she is with child?" Others tried to defend her, saying, "Well, he was separated from his wife then." But many still frowned and whispered, "It is still an affair. The apple does not fall far from the tree. He is just like his father."

Ivan could hear every word. He did not speak. He did not defend himself. His eyes stayed on Lydia like she was the only person who mattered in the world.

Tatiana could feel the weight of their stares. Her hands shook. Tears stung her eyes. She had wanted them to look at Lydia this way — with judgment and disgust. But now, she was the one they spat at with their eyes.

Lydia tilted her head slightly, her expression full of fake pity. She leaned close enough for only Tatiana to hear and whispered, "Poor thing."

Then she turned and walked away.

Something inside Tatiana broke. She wanted to hurt her. She wanted to see her fall — literally.

Her eyes spotted the steward returning with an empty tray after serving guests. As he walked past, she subtly moved her foot to trip him.

It worked.

The steward stumbled forward, crashing into Lydia. She slipped slightly, her heel sliding on the polished floor. Gasps filled the room.

But before she could fall, a strong hand caught her arm and steadied her.

She turned her head — and froze.

It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly combed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. His suit was dark, sharp, and perfectly tailored. His grip on her was gentle but firm.

For a moment, she simply stared. Her lips parted, her breath catching.

"Damir..." she said softly.

A slow, warm smile spread across his face. "I’ve missed you."

Something in her chest ached. She smiled, truly smiled, the way she had not in a long time. "Me too," she whispered.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and hugged him tightly. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, as if the rest of the room had disappeared.

Ivan’s face hardened. His chest felt heavy, but he did not move. He stood still, watching her in the arms of another man.

Tatiana, still standing near the centre, looked like someone had slapped her across the face.

The room buzzed with whispers again. No one knew who Damir was — but from the way Lydia held him, it was clear he was not just anyone.