Chapter 47: The Golden-Eyed Demon

Olivia cradled the infant against her chest with a tenderness that felt almost alien. A soft smile bloomed on her lips without effort—as if the child’s warmth had ignited a long-dormant spark within her.

Looking down, she saw her own features mirrored in the girl’s delicate face. It was a sight that sent a sharp pang of bittersweet nostalgia through her heart.

She began to sway in a slow, rhythmic motion until the child’s breathing evened out, fading into a deep, trusting silence. She was so submerged in the moment that the faint creak of the door barely registered.

Olivia didn’t turn. Her world was narrowed down to the tiny life in her arms—to Ann. She assumed it was Keira; who else would dare enter her private sanctuary with such familiarity?

But when she finally glanced back, the breath died in her throat. Her heart gave a violent lurch. Her grip tightened instinctively around the baby, shielding her as if from a strike.

There she was.

Seated with an unnatural, predatory stillness, her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders like dark fire. Her golden eyes glowed with a cold, terrifying lucidity.

It wasn’t just her presence that froze the air, but her silence—a heavy, suffocating weight. Her beauty was an ethereal perfection, but Olivia alone knew the truth beneath that flawless mask. She knew the rot hidden beneath the rose petals.

A slow, mocking smile curled the woman’s lips. She raised a languid hand in a chillingly casual wave, her voice flowing like honey laced with hemlock.

“Hello. It’s been quite a long time, hasn’t it… sister?”

A violent shiver raced down Olivia’s spine. The serene smile she had worn moments ago twisted into a defensive snarl.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia demanded, her voice a sharp blade. “And how did you get in?”

Elvira rose with agonizing slowness, savoring every movement like a predator closing in on its prey. There was no rush in her stride—only a terrifying certainty.

Sensing the threat, Olivia moved swiftly to lay Ann gently on the bed. She stepped forward, placing her own body as a living shield between the child and the viper.

“Is this how you welcome your own flesh and blood?” Elvira purred. “Not even a sisterly embrace?”

“What do you want from me now?” Olivia spat.

Elvira tilted her head, her golden eyes shimmering with wicked amusement. She let her gaze wander toward the bed.

“Mmm… so this is your niece? The little Crown Princess I’ve heard so little about? Imagine my surprise when I learned of her existence through the newspapers. I thought a sister might have mentioned something… so monumental.”

Elvira extended her hand, her fingertips poised to graze the infant’s cheek. Olivia recoiled instantly, shielding Ann with her own body.

A mocking laugh escaped Elvira’s lips. “Goodness… you truly don’t want me to touch her? Have you forgotten who I am entirely?”

The tension shattered with a sharp, brutal CRACK.

The blow was so sudden it echoed like a thunderclap. Olivia was thrown to the floor with staggering force. Before she could even find her footing, another blow fell… and then another.

Elvira was no mere woman; she was a vessel of supernatural ferocity, a living heir to the raw strength of their bloodline—ten times more powerful than any ordinary man.

“It would be wise to remember your place, dear sister,” Elvira said, her voice as cold as a mountain shroud.

Olivia groaned, her only thought a desperate need to reach Ann. But as her fingertips clawed at the floor, a burning pressure crushed her hand back into the wood. Elvira’s heel dug into her skin with deliberate cruelty.

“Still trying?” Elvira purred. “Tell me, my sweet sister—why so silent now? I’ve traveled all this way to see you.”

Olivia choked back a scream as the pain flared into an inferno. Elvira leaned down, her golden eyes shimmering with malice.

“W-what was that? Speak up, darling. I can barely hear you over the sound of your pride shattering.”

“Damn you… you filthy—” Olivia spat through gritted teeth.

Elvira’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “You really do have a talent for stoking my rage.”

With one violent motion, she seized Olivia’s chin. “Listen closely, you ungrateful wretch. I didn’t come here for games. I came to see for myself what Father told me; that you’ve turned your back on your blood.”

Her grip tightened until the bone groaned. “That you’ve chosen your husband over us. You belong to me, Olivia. You are my plaything, and a toy does not move without its master’s leave.”

Elvira’s gaze descended to Olivia’s exposed neck. Her lip curled in pure disdain.

“Oh? So you’re playing at a little romance. I see the marks your lover has branded you with… how touching.”

Then, a flicker of malevolent inspiration ignited in her eyes. “But wouldn’t it be far more poetic if you bore my marks as well? A small souvenir—etched into your very skin.”

She reached into her cloak and withdrew a slender, gleaming dagger.

Before Olivia could flinch, Elvira caught her wrist with crushing strength. With surgical precision, she pressed the blade into Olivia’s soft flesh, slowly carving letters into her forearm.

Her name. Letter by letter. A signature written in gasps and agony. Olivia screamed, her body convulsing, but Elvira’s smile only widened. Finally, she rose, enjoying the sight of her sister trembling on the floor.

Her gaze shifted… to the child.

“Oh?” she breathed, stepping toward the bed. “What a fragile thing she is.”

Pure terror struck Olivia’s heart. “Please… Elvira, do what you want with me. Hurt me… kill me… but do not touch her.”

Elvira erupted into a wild, unhinged laughter. “Hahaha! Oh, dearest Olivia… are you still mourning that little boy? How tragic. But this child isn’t even yours. Why the theatrics?”

Olivia’s expression shifted—fear hardening into cold defiance.

But Elvira had already moved toward the tea tray. Her hand hovered over the steaming pot, her smile sharpening.

“I wonder…” she mused, her eyes fixed on the infant. “What would they say if the heiress to the throne were to be… disfigured… here in the Duke’s very chambers? What a scandal that would be.”

The realization struck Olivia with the violence of a thunderclap.

With a guttural cry, she flung herself forward, her movements fueled by a desperate, frantic adrenaline. She became a blur of motion, shielding Ann with her own body at the precise, harrowing moment Elvira tilted the pitcher and unleashed its scalding contents.

A jagged scream erupted from Olivia’s throat as the boiling liquid seethed against her skin. It bloomed across her back and shoulders in a wave of white-hot agony, blistering the flesh instantly.

Yet, she did not waver.

She clung to Ann with a fierce, primal tenacity—a living rampart of bone and resolve. Even as the steam rose from her ravaged skin, she refused to let her grip slacken.

Elvira merely tilted her head, observing the wreckage of her cruelty with the detached, chilling curiosity of a scientist.

“Oh, how utterly pathetic you are, Olivia,” she murmured. A long, weary sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “Still so dreadfully dramatic… and so very weak.”

With a composure that bordered on the spectral, Elvira turned toward the door. She moved with a haunting grace, daintily brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve.

“I believe I shall take my leave now,” she said, her voice dropping to a cold, airy nonchalance. “But make no mistake—your penance for betraying this family has only just begun.”

She paused at the threshold, the dark wood framing her like a portrait of a beautiful demon. She cast one final, lingering glance over her shoulder.

“Oh—I almost forgot. I’ve left a small token for you and your dear husband. It would have been dreadfully rude of me to arrive empty-handed, wouldn’t it?”

She offered a slow, serpentine wink, her eyes glinting with unadulterated malice.

“I do hope you enjoy it… sister.”

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