Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

After everyone had gone, Lyra quietly entered the grand bedchamber, her heart heavy in her chest. She saw that her mother-in-law, the Dowager Duchess Elena, was now sitting up in the large, canopied bed, her back resting against a mountain of plush pillows. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear and sharp as ever.

"Mother, You're awake," Lyra said softly, dropping the pitcher of water and the empty cup she had been holding onto a nearby table with a soft clink.

Elena looked at her, a small, weary smile on her lips. "How could I not wake up with that loud, commanding voice of yours echoing through the entire house?" she teased gently.

Lyra poured a fresh glass of water and gave it to Elena, her own hands not quite steady. She stood beside the bed, feeling like a disappointed child, a mother who had failed to control her own family. Elena drank the water slowly. When she was done, Lyra broke the heavy silence.

"You must be very disappointed in the children," she said, her voice a low, sad murmur.

"Well," Elena replied, her gaze distant as she looked out the window at the dark, starry sky. "I don't know what, exactly, I am most disappointed in." She looked back at Lyra, her expression one of deep, weary insight. "Am I disappointed in the fact that our Eric and his new wife did something as strange as making their marriage into a business deal, signing a formal contract?" She paused. "Or am I more disappointed that the other two, Philip and his new accomplice, who invaded their privacy, somehow dug up that secret, and brought it here to use as a weapon?"

Lyra could only let out a disappointed sigh. There was no good answer to that question.

"When Eric first wanted to leave this house, to build his own life away from us," Elena continued, her voice now a soft whisper, remembering the day vividly. "I was very sad. But secretly, a part of me also thought that maybe it would be for the best. Maybe the two of them, Eric and Philip, would finally stop their endless fighting if we just separated them. I thought that, with time, they would get along someday." She looked at Lyra, who looked as sad and as hurt as she felt. "I even tried to force the issue, pitching them to work together on the new spring line collection. Maybe forced proximity would force their hand."

She shook her head, a single, glistening tear escaping the corner of her eye and tracing a path down her wrinkled cheek. "But I finally realized it today, Lyra. How foolish that thought was. How utterly foolish. What I thought would be best to bring them together ended up pushing them more apart."

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The next morning, Delia woke up alone in the large, comfortable bed of her room in Eric's residence. A sliver of sunlight was peeking through the heavy curtains m. Her first thought was of him. After the disastrous scene at the Carson estate, they had come home in a tense, heavy silence. Eric, clearly disappointed in himself for not being able to put things under control, for letting his brother get to him, had shut himself out from her.

"I want to be alone, Delia." He said as he kissed her forehead, patting her hair. " There's no need to follow me. You can go back to your room." His voice was low and draggy. " Goodnight, my love." He told her as he looked at her one last time and closed the door. He had isolated himself in his own room all night, and she had been too afraid to disturb his somber mood.

She knocked softly on his bedroom door, hoping to talk to him, to reassure him. But there was no answer. She pushed the door a bit, and it swung open. The room was empty. The bed was neatly made, and there was no sign of him.

"He must have gotten up very early and gone straight to work," she thought to herself, a pang of disappointment in her heart.

She took her bath and got dressed for the day. As she was brushing her hair, she checked her calendar and murmured to herself, "I have my class at The Gilded Cage tomorrow." She knew it was unlikely, but she hoped that Lyra would be there. "At least I will be able to try and talk to her there to clear up the misunderstanding," she thought. That's if she even comes.

Delia came downstairs, intending to cook a simple breakfast for herself, but she stopped in her tracks. She saw that the small kitchen table had already been set for one person. She walked closer and lifted the silver covers from the plates.

Underneath was a perfectly cooked breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and sliced fruit. She touched the side of the plate; it was still warm, meaning it had not been long since he had prepared all these and left.

She then saw a folded note on the table, right beside her plate. She picked it up and read the familiar, bold script.

I'm sorry for how I behaved last night, I didn't want you to see how disappointed I was in myself. I hope this little gift of mine is enough to make you smile.

The battle has just began . We promised each other that we would fight this battle together. So, you have to eat well to have enough strength for the fight ahead as you fight by my side.

Underneath the simple, encouraging words, he had even drawn a series of cute, clumsy little hearts.

Delia smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes. The heavy weight of worry in her chest seemed to lift. At least he was no longer somber. At least he was still thinking of her. She sat down and began to eat the delicious breakfast her husband had made for her.