Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 57

Chapter 57: Chapter 57

Seraphine’s POV

The tray came back untouched.

Every dish. Every carefully selected morsel. The roasted quail arranged just so on the silver plate. The wine—his preferred vintage, the one I’d had to bribe two servants to confirm. The small cake dusted with powdered sugar, shaped like a crescent moon because I’d heard him once mention the old festival traditions.

All of it. Returned to my chamber door by a stone-faced attendant who wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“His Majesty sends his regards,” the attendant said flatly. “He has already eaten.”

He hadn’t. I knew he hadn’t. I’d tracked his movements all morning through a network of whispers and favors and veiled threats. He’d been in the war room since dawn. No food had been brought to him. No tea. Nothing.

He simply didn’t want mine.

The door closed. I stood in the center of my chamber, staring at the untouched tray on the side table. The quail had gone cold. The wine caught the afternoon light and gleamed like blood.

I wanted to hurl it all against the wall.

Instead, I breathed. Smoothed the front of my gown. Counted to ten.

Control. I needed control. Rage was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not yet.

I crossed to the mirror and studied my reflection. The gown I’d chosen for today was a deep burgundy silk, cut low enough to draw the eye without crossing the line into vulgarity. The fabric clung to my waist and hips. My hair was swept up, exposing the long line of my neck. Pearl earrings caught the light. Every detail calculated. Every angle considered.

I looked beautiful. I knew I looked beautiful. I’d spent hours making certain of it.

And none of it mattered.

Because he didn’t see me. He looked through me the way sunlight passes through glass—without stopping. Without warming.

Earlier that morning, I’d requested an audience. A legitimate one. I had documents requiring his seal—minor administrative matters I’d deliberately delayed so I’d have an excuse. I’d rehearsed my entrance. The tilt of my chin. The way I’d lean forward slightly when presenting the papers, letting the neckline do its work.

I walked into the study with my best smile. Confident. Poised.

He didn’t look up from his desk.

“State your business,” he said. His voice was flat. Bored. The voice of a man addressing a servant he barely remembered hiring.

“Your Majesty, I have several documents that require—”

“Stop.” One word. Sharp as a blade. His quill continued moving across the parchment. “Three steps back, Seraphine. You’re too close.”

Three steps back. Like I was contagious. Like my proximity was an offense.

I retreated. Presented the documents from that humiliating distance. He signed them without reading them. Without looking at me once. His dark gold eyes never lifted from whatever letter he was composing—and I caught a glimpse of the heading before he angled the page away.

A correspondence addressed to the northern border garrison. About security details. About her.

Even with her gone, she was all he thought about.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, still not looking up.

“I thought perhaps you might like some company this evening, Your Majesty. The court musicians have prepared—”

“No.”

Not “no, thank you.” Not “perhaps another time.” Just no. A single syllable that closed the door between us like a gate dropping.

I left the study with my dignity intact. Barely. My nails had carved half-moon welts into my palms from the effort of keeping my expression neutral.

Now, alone in my chamber, I let the mask drop.

My hands trembled as I poured a glass of the rejected wine. Drank it in three long swallows. Poured another.

How was this possible? She’d been gone for days. Days without her scent in the corridors. Days without her unremarkable face at his side. Days where I had unfettered access to every room, every gathering, every opportunity.

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