Chapter 166: Chapter-166

“Aunt—” Heena tried.

“NO!” the Duchess cut her off. “You don’t get to ’Aunt’ me right now! You don’t get to use that tone like this is just another political discussion!”

She was shaking now, with fury and fear mixed together.

“I lost your mother,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I lost my Brother. I watched her die and couldn’t save her. And now you’re telling me that you’ve been letting the people who tried to kill you just—what? Live comfortably in your palace? Eat your food? Breathe your air?”

Tears were forming in the Duchess’s eyes, though her expression remained furious.

“You’re all I have left,” she said quietly. “You’re the only family I have in this world. And you’ve been in danger—’lethal’ danger—and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t let me protect you. You just… handled it alone.”

Heena felt something crack in her chest at the raw emotion in her aunt’s voice.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I survived. The poison didn’t work. I caught it in time.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” the Duchess shouted again. “The point is that they TRIED! The point is that you’re surrounded by men who want you dead! And you’re just—what? Keeping them around? Playing political chess while they’re actively trying to murder you?!”

She grabbed Heena’s shoulders, not roughly, but firmly.

“Give me one good reason,” she said, her voice shaking with controlled fury, “why I shouldn’t march into their quarters right now and kill all five of them myself. One reason, Celeste. Just one.”

Heena looked into her aunt’s eyes—at the protective rage, the desperate fear, the overwhelming love underneath it all—and she understood.

This wasn’t about politics. This wasn’t about imperial strategy or long-term planning.

This was about a woman who’d already lost her Brother and was terrified of losing her niece too.

“Because I need them alive,” Heena said quietly. “Not for me. For the empire. For the years I have left here before I completely have power in my hand.”

The Duchess flinched at the reminder that Heena was a transmigrator, that she had an expiration date on this life.

“I can’t destabilize everything before I have enough power to stand alone,” Heena continued. “If I kill them or remove them now, the power vacuum would be catastrophic. Their families would rebel. The empire would fracture. And when I would wobble even a little or become weak suddenly, it would collapse completely.”

The Duchess looked at Heena with fury blazing in her eyes, but it was mixed with something else—helplessness, frustration, and a kind of angry concern that only family could inspire.

She walked closer, her voice sharp and cutting.

“I am a diplomat who has negotiated for ’years’,” she said, her tone rising. “I am one of the strongest mages in this empire. And you think that YOU—the ruler of an empire that makes ’seven war-hungry kingdoms’ tremble, that every surrounding nation is terrified to cross—you think YOU need to protect some fucking bastards who tried to POISON you?!”

She threw her hands up.

“Are you actually talking nonsense with me right now? Are you seriously standing there telling me that the Empress of the most powerful empire on this continent cannot deal with her own husbands?!”

Heena sighed heavily.

There was no hiding anything from her aunt now. The woman had that look—the one that said she wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t accept any deflection or political maneuvering until she got the complete truth.

“Okay,” Heena said, raising her hands in surrender. “Okay. I did something. Let me explain.”

She leaned closer to her aunt and, in a low voice, began explaining everything. The entire plan. The suspicions about Seraphina’s pregnancy. The trap she was setting. The evidence she’d been collecting. The political maneuvering she’d been orchestrating for months.

Twenty minutes later, the Duchess stood there, processing everything she’d just heard.

And then—slowly—a smile spread across her face.

A wide, absolutely delighted smile.

She actually turned around and spit three times—’pah, pah, pah’—in the traditional gesture to ward off evil eyes and bad luck.

“I KNEW IT!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with pride and satisfaction. “God save you from evil eyes! You are DEFINITELY my niece! My blood! My sister’s daughter!”

She laughed, the sound bright and genuinely happy.

“Here I was thinking that my brother must have picked you up from some garbage heap—that there was no way someone with imperial blood could be so passive and foolish! But NO! You’ve been plotting this entire time!”

Heena looked at her aunt with mild exasperation. “Aunt, can you at least show me ’some’ respect? I am the Empress, you know.”

The Duchess waved her hand dismissively, her fan fluttering. “Yeah, yeah, respect, whatever. So what do you need me to do?”

Heena’s expression became more serious. “I need you to contact some people. Specifically: Prince Kieran’s father, Duke Adrian’s father, and Duke Lucian’s father.”

The Duchess’s smile turned predatory. “Oh, the old generation? The patriarchs? Excellent. Don’t worry about it. Those bastards—I’ll just send them a letter and they’ll come running like dogs called to dinner.”

Heena raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t most of them out of town? Out of the empire for work or retirement? I thought at least two of them had left the capital years ago.”

The Duchess looked at her niece and said with absolute confidence, “Have you forgotten who your aunt is?”

Heena actually laughed at that.

Because no—no, she definitely hadn’t forgotten.

This was the woman who, in her youth, had nearly shaken the entire noble structure of the empire to its foundations. She was one of the most beautiful, most eligible women of her generation—a perfect combination of aristocratic etiquette and wild, untamable spirit.

Every noble had dreamed of wooing her. Many had tried. Most had failed spectacularly.

And yes, she’d been quite the “big shot” in certain circles. The kind of woman who could walk into a room full of powerful men and have them all competing for her attention.

And now—even though God only knew how many years old she actually was—she still looked young, still commanded respect and attention, still had connections that ran deeper than most people could imagine.

The Duchess walked over and tapped Heena lightly on the head with her fan, the gesture both affectionate and admonishing.

“From now on,” she said firmly, “you tell me ’before’ you do something this elaborate. Do you understand? No more keeping me in the dark about assassination attempts or complex political schemes.”

“Yes, Aunt,” Heena said, properly chastised.

The Duchess turned to leave, waving her hand dismissively.

“Now I’m going to deal with your secretary,” she said, already moving toward the door. “And handle some of the arrangements you mentioned. The old patriarchs will be here within a week, I guarantee it.”

She paused at the door, turned back to look at Heena, and said with a meaningful smile:

“Do not let the eggs leave the basket before you’re ready to cook them.”

Heena smiled back, understanding perfectly. “Of course not. First we get these old geezers here and deal with them properly. ’Then’ we take care of our dear rumor-starter.”

The Duchess’s smile widened with satisfaction. “Good girl. That’s my niece.”

And with that, she swept out of the office, her robes flowing behind her, leaving Heena alone with the scattered furniture and her trembling System.

System 427 poked his head out from behind the desk where he’d been hiding.

“Host,” he said weakly, “your aunt is terrifying.”

“I know,” Heena agreed, sitting down in one of the intact chairs. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“That’s not the word I would use,” the System muttered.

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