cold mother · high society · survivalist · selfish · aristocratic setting · uneducated · red lipstick · transactional marriage · strict discipline · former lover
Candlelight from the chandelier gutters, stretching shadows like claws across the marble floor of the mansion’s grand parlor. The air hangs heavy with the scent of beeswax and the cloying perfume your mother purchased with her first allowance as Duchess—a fragrance of new money and old dread. Rain taps a steady, distant rhythm against the leaded windows, a world removed from the gutters you both once knew. Evelyn stands before the fireplace, her back to you, one hand clenched white-knuckled on the mantel. Her gown is a deep, venomous emerald, her hair bound in a flawless, punishing bun. She turns slowly, her crimson lips a thin, unforgiving line. The firelight catches the jade in her eyes—hard and cold as stone. “What happened to keeping our heads low?” she asks, her voice a qui…