WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of violence. Read at your own discretion.

***

Dylan burst through the doors with wide eyes. An audible breath heaved from her lips the moment she laid eyes on her adoptive father.

The Duke was sitting back in his chair, tapping his fingers on its arm. Dylan could see from the look on his face that he was furious. The panic inside her was becoming difficult to control and her hands trembled slightly.

"Dylan," he said calmly.

"Father," she replied in a shaky voice. "What is—"

"Dylan," he said, in a slightly sterner tone, as if he wasn't calling her name for her to respond.

Her gaze flickered to the side. Lucas was seated across from the Duke. He glared downward, his face twisted with rage.

'Why did you come early?'

Closing her eyes, she let out a deep breath. "Please allow me to speak to my father privately," she said. "Sir Cadence, escort Lord Lucas to his carriage and wait for me there."

Lucas rose slowly from his chair, an expression of great annoyance overclouding his face. He arrived early with the hope that he could spend extra time with his sister. The Duke, however, looked at him and treated him like a bug.

It was clear that he did not want Lucas hanging around Dylan. How much did the Duke know? Was he intentionally trying to keep Dylan away from her biological family? The mere idea made him furious.

He gritted his teeth while he stared at Dylan; then forcing himself to calmness, he said, "I shall wait for you outside then."

Cadence hesitated a moment, not wanting to leave Dylan alone. She smiled at him reassuringly, those brown eyes shadowed with fatigue. This was a family matter—one she did not want anyone else to witness. Then, just as she had asked, the two men left the room.

Dylan saw the Duke's facial expression, an expression of controlled anger and fury, an expression he had never shown her before. She knew he was mad. He started to walk toward her, eating away at the distance between them with long strides.

The Duke grabbed Dylan's frail shoulders and shook her violently as he shouted into her face, "How could you? How could you?"

"Father!" she begged, wincing in pain. "Father, let go!"

"Tell me," he yelled, then slapped her face. "Tell me why you're hanging around with him!"

The blow from the back of his hand so powerful she staggered backwards, falling to her knees. The pain stung her eyes to tears and made her catch her breath.

'Like father like son.'

The Duke quickly stepped back in realization and relaxed. An expression of momentary guilt flashed across his face as he looked at Dylan on the ground.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands on her shoulders. "Sorry," he apologized. "You're the only person I have left—you're not going to leave me, right?"

Dylan's eyes were overflowing with tears. Her face was slack and expressionless, and there was no colour in it at all. She knelt there motionlessly, trembling slightly under his touch.

"You and I only have each other," he said, pulling her into a hug.

Her body was cold and stiff. She didn't put her arms around him and she didn't lean into his embrace. It was like hugging a corpse.

"That man and his family—they never wanted you," he told her. "Stay away from them."

"Okay," she whispered, her lips trembling violently.

"Your mother is dead because of those people, okay? It's all their fault, so you have to resent them and blame them."

Dylan knew she had a special place in the Duke's heart, partly because she looked so much like her father and also because she had showed him unconditional loyalty up until now. He was acting like a madman over the thought of losing her—his daughter and only other heir.

His normal self image had broken down under stress. He was slowly going insane, losing touch with all of his senses. He couldn't lose his daughter. He absolutely could not lose her. He needed to make her hate them. He needed to make her resent them. The Duke would not let them take Dylan from him.

"Don't leave me again, Ruenz," he muttered under his voice to nobody in particular. "Don't leave me again."

"I won't," she said emotionlessly, freeing herself from his embrace. "Father, you should get some rest."

The Duke was still slumped over on the ground on his knees, groaning with despair. Dylan rang the bell and stood back until a maid came to the drawing room.

The maid's hand rose to her mouth at the sight of the fresh bruises that marred Dylan's skin. Tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to fall. It was a terrible sight. Dylan's shoulders and cheek were covered with bright purple and blue bruises.

"Is it that bad, really?" asked Dylan while offering her a handkerchief.

"Forgive me," responded the maid while dabbing her eyes with the cloth. She swallowed a lump in her throat, "Milady should get her bruises treated immediately."

"Don't be sad, it doesn't hurt," replied Dylan, allowing a slight smile to cross her face. "Are you one of His Grace's maids?"

"Yes, milady," she responded, lowering her head.

"Does father get a lot of sleep? Do you know?"

"I'm not sure, milady."

"Mmm." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure about that?" asked Dylan. "It's part of your job to look after my father, is it not? Are you admitting to not doing your job properly?"

The maid's eyes widened. "No, milady! Now that I think about it, His Grace hasn't slept at all recently."

Dylan smiled. "I thought so. Do you oversee his health as well as his daily necessities?"

The maid nodded and said, "Yes, yes! I do, milady!"

"Very well," Dylan replied. "Here is what you're going to do."

The maid drew closer.

***

Cadence's head whipped around, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face when he spotted her walking toward them. As she came closer and closer, he could see bruises covering her face and shoulders. An unfamiliar feeling was bubbling in his stomach.

"Dyl"—Grisa's voice trailed off as she called her friend's name—"an."

Cadence threw his jacket over Dylan's shoulders to hide the bruising.

"You're all here," she said, fastening his jacket around her. "Shall we depart now?"

Lucas' green eyes flickered with intense emotion. "Did His Grace do that to you?" he asked angrily.

"Don't be silly." She shook her head, then gave him a rueful grin. "I merely fell, so it's nothing to worry about."

"Dyl," Grisa said worriedly. Her voice dwindled. "How can we not worry?"

Dylan flinched. She assumed that no one cared about her because no one had acknowledged who she truly was. They all projected their expectations and desires onto her, forcing her to act like their puppet. Was it really different with Grisa and Lucas?

"As you all know, my brother's court trial is tomorrow." She spoke emptily, as though giving no further importance to what she could say. "Father is stressed and overworked. I can assure you that everything will be fine in due time."

"Okay," said Grisa. "I'm sorry; I won't pry anymore."

She locked her arm with Dylan's and hurried her away toward the carriage, leaving Lucas to watch them angrily.

Dylan had his blood. She was a Ruenz, not a Beaumon. Did she really want to stay a Beaumon even after getting beat? It made no sense to him.

Cadence appeared to understand his concern and gave his back a reassuring pat.

"I don't understand her," muttered Lucas. "I don't understand her at all." He wanted to tell everybody to truth, to give Dylan her rightful last name—he wanted to make her into his real family.

"Don't try to understand her words—try to understand her silence," Cadence mouthed to him.

Cadence had no way of understanding what was happening to her or why. It was the same for everyone around him. People can never truly understand each other. Human beings are far too complex and emotional creatures.

Understanding Dylan's words wouldn't do Lucas any good, because Dylan's words were all fake. It was her silence and the reason behind why she didn't express herself properly that was important.

Cadence knew this after just a day of guarding her. The two of them were the same—unable to speak about the chains that bound them.

Lucas sighed, ventured with solemn glances up to the carriage, and followed the girls inside. Today was going to be a long day for him.