villainess chapter 1

“Sister, I’m sorry…” A whisper echoed in the cramped, damp closet. The voice belonged to a small, thin woman. Her once lustrous, tumbling brown hair was now dull and lifeless. Her dress, unchanged for days, was a mess. It had been several days since she’d been thrust into this confinement on the orders of her husband, Arthur Harrington, the Count and master of this manor. Had he actually ordered her locked in a closet?

Her memory was hazy. During her imprisonment, no food or water had come. She hadn’t even heard a footstep. Outside, the weather was unbelievably clear. The torrential rain of the past few days was gone as if it had never been. Autumn had arrived, bringing with it a high, blue sky and crisp, clean air. Trapped inside, the woman was oblivious to this. She simply inhaled the dust and mildew, weeping endlessly tears of regret.

“Flora, I’m sorry I turned away from you. I was wrong.”

As her consciousness faded, she vaguely registered a commotion outside. The thunder of hooves approached, followed by the booming voice of the Captain of the Royal Knights. 

“Seize the criminal Arthur Harrington at once and bring Lady Harrington—no, Lady Vivian Beaufort—to safety!” But she couldn’t hear them. Finally, the knights arrived and threw open the closet door. 

“Oh, no!” 

“Good heavens.”

Gasps of horror filled the air. It was too late. Vivian, huddled in that dark, cramped, square space, had quietly breathed her last.

***

It had been a few days before her death. The day the storm began. It was daytime, but the darkness made it feel like night. Everything was shrouded in black. Rain poured down as if the heavens had opened. Lightning flashed incessantly, followed by deafening claps of thunder. Inside the grand manor, in one of its many rooms, a woman sat huddled on the floor. 

It was Vivian Harrington, the young mistress of the house. She was noticeably pale, as if she hadn’t eaten properly in days. She looked nothing like the Countess of Harrington, wife to one of the wealthiest men in the Empire. Before her stood her husband, Arthur Harrington. His eyes were bloodshot, and he radiated a menacing aura. Vivian addressed him in a trembling voice, “My… My Lord.” 

“Wife, are you deliberately refusing your meals?” 

“No. I’ll eat properly. Please, don’t lock me away.” 

“Ha—so you’re saying the servants are lying to me.” 

He sighed shallowly, one hand roughly loosening his constricting cravat. Then he bent down on one knee, lowering himself to her level. He met her gaze, once warm and bright with the color of autumn leaves. “Wife, do you know what is happening outside?” 

“Outside?” 

“Yes. Your sister, the Crown Princess, has been accused of attempting to assassinate the Crown Prince.” 

“What? What are you…?” 

Vivian had been confined to the manor for about a year. She was cut off from the social world, even from news of how the people on their lands were faring. The only thing she could discern was the changing of the seasons. This news was a bolt from the blue. “Wife, had I known this would happen, I would not have pursued our marriage so eagerly. To think that the Beauforts would become a family of traitors.” 

“My Lord, there must be some misunderstanding.” 

Her family, the Beaufort dukedom, was one of the Empire’s founding families. The Beauforts had always been loyal to the Imperial family. Their loyalty had secured their political standing for generations, but it also made them a target. Yes, this had to be someone’s malicious scheme. 

Which family could it be? The other dukes have been amicable until now…

“Your sister, the Crown Princess—no, the criminal, Flora Beaufort—poison intended for the Crown Prince was found in her chambers. There’s testimony that the poison came from the Beaufort estate.” 

It couldn’t be true. Her half-sister, Flora, wasn’t so simpleminded or foolish. And Max, the current Duke, would never attempt such a reckless act of treason. Even if Flora had disliked her husband enough to want him dead, she wouldn’t have resorted to such a blatant method. Flora would have negotiated a divorce, securing the best possible outcome for herself. This kind of obvious crime wasn’t her style. And the Crown Prince didn’t seem like someone Flora would hate. 

Vivian shook her head vehemently, fighting back tears. “No. Flora wouldn’t do that. I know her. We’re sisters.” 

“My dear, naive wife. Everyone wears a mask. Even family.” 

“No, this is a lie.” 

“You truly were raised on love alone. So unaware of the world… my innocent Vivian. That’s why I loved you all the more.”