The Virtue Ending

The soft, rhythmic chirping of birds provided a serene backdrop as Theodore lightly tapped his fingers against his cheek, his gaze drifting thoughtfully across the garden. His eyes eventually settled on Noah, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. A faint smile played on Theodore's lips, curling with quiet curiosity as he studied the boy before him.

"Sophia," he said smoothly, "do try not to frighten the poor boy. He's new here, after all. I'd hate for him to think this is how nobles always behave."

His voice carried a mocking edge, though it was unclear if the jab was meant for Sophia or Noah—or perhaps both.

"Well, he is poor indeed," Jane remarked mockingly, her crimson eyes narrowing as she glanced at Noah.

Theodore's easy smile didn't falter. "Well, not anymore," he said, his tone calm yet teasing. "He's your brother now."

Jane's crimson eyes flashed, but she forced a tight smile.

"As if someone from the slums could ever be my brother," she snapped, her tone laced with derision. Despite her best efforts to keep her emotions in check, the bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

Still, Theodore wasn't one to hold back. "Aww," he drawled, leaning forward slightly as if to emphasize his words. "What would you do if he ends up getting all the remaining shares of your father's estate? That would be something, wouldn't it?"

Theodore's snide remarks struck a nerve, leaving Jane momentarily speechless. She wanted to retaliate, but the sharpness of her wit seemed to falter under his pointed gaze. Besides, Theodore was not someone to be trifled with—a reality she loathed but could not deny, no matter how unfair it felt.

Jane stiffened, her fingers tightening imperceptibly around the delicate porcelain teacup in her hands. Her gaze flickered to Lucian, who remained composed at the center of the table, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. He seemed completely absorbed in the book resting on his lap, untouched by the conversation unraveling around him.

She gave him a pleading look—a silent cry for support. But Lucian merely glanced up, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips, before returning to his reading. Jane's heart sank as the realization struck that he had no intention of stepping in.

Jane's forced smile twitched at the edges, but she kept her composure, refusing to give Theodore the satisfaction of seeing her break. She glanced away, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the ribbon of her dress.

Noah, meanwhile, sat quietly, his crimson eyes downcast as if he were oblivious to the tension surrounding him. His hands rested on his lap, still and careful, as though even the smallest movement would draw unwanted attention.

Kevin, who had remained silent until now, eased back into his chair, letting his shoulders relax against the curved backrest, his icy blue eyes studying Noah intently.

"He doesn't say much," Kevin remarked in his usual monotone. His right hand rested lightly on the table, idly tracing the rim of his teacup, while the other draped effortlessly over the chair's arm. His eyes, half-lidded with disinterest, flitted toward the others before glancing out the greenhouse's glass walls.

"Perhaps he knows his place," Kevin said, his tone carrying a casual arrogance.

Theodore's smile deepened, but there was something sharper in his gaze. "Or perhaps he's simply smart enough to know when not to speak. A useful trait, wouldn't you say, Lucian?"

Lucian finally looked up from his book, his golden eyes meeting Theodore's with an unreadable expression. He closed the book with deliberate slowness, the faint clap of its cover breaking the tense silence.

The unspoken power play between the older boys hung in the air like a taut string, unnoticed by most but felt keenly by those who knew them well.

"Useful indeed," he said simply, his voice calm, as if dismissing the moment as unimportant.

The guests glanced at each other, their silence thick with unspoken understanding. In this circle, it was best not to draw attention to oneself. Every action, every word, held the potential to create waves far beyond the immediate moment. A single slip, no matter how minor, could ruin reputations and bring down families. It wasn't just about the present—it was about maintaining the fragile stability that had taken years to build. The consequences of a wrong move could be irreversible, and so they stood, waiting, careful not to make a misstep.

One could never quite tell what was cooking up inside Theodore's head; he was always enigmatic, never one to back down from a challenge. His sharp gaze flickered between Jane and Lucian, his lips curled into an ever-pleasant smile.

"So, who's your favorite cousin now? Jane or Noah?" Theodore asked casually, his eyes glinting as they lingered on Jane, enjoying the discomfort he stirred.

Lucian didn't skip a beat. "Of course, I love both of them equally," he remarked, his tone smooth and indifferent. It was a clear lie—one everyone could see through—but Lucian didn't care. The answer was as meaningless as the question, and that was exactly what he intended.

Just as the stillness grew heavier, a nervous maid appeared, her hands trembling as she hurried to pour more tea. But alas, her misfortune struck swiftly.

She slipped, and in a panicked attempt to steady herself, the teapot tipped over, splashing hot tea onto Jane's lap, staining her pale pink dress. The dark liquid spread quickly, seeping into the fabric and splattering the fine embroidery, ruining the once pristine appearance of her gown.

The moment felt like it hung in the air, everyone frozen in disbelief. The other maids stopped moving, their expressions a mixture of shock and fear, unsure whether to intervene. The children at the table, too, were left speechless, staring at Jane as the tea soaked through her dress.

Before anyone could utter a word, Jane's face twisted in fury. Her hand shot out, slapping the maid sharply across the face. The sound of the slap cracked through the garden, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The maid recoiled, her face pale with terror as she stood there trembling, unable to speak.

A cold fury flickered in Jane's crimson eyes as she stared down at the mess, her hand trembling with rage. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Look what you've done!" she hissed, glaring at the maid who stood frozen in shock.

The maid, eyes wide with fear, dropped to her knees immediately. "I-I am so sorry, miss! Please, forgive me!" she stammered, her voice trembling. She raised her hands as if to wipe the tea from Jane's dress, but Jane stepped back, eyes narrowing in disgust.

"No," Jane sneered, her voice cold and venomous. "You'll clean up your mess the proper way."

Before anyone could react, Jane's gaze turned icy. Without hesitation, she pointed toward the ground where the tea had spilled, her voice a sharp command. "Lick it clean. All of it. Now."

The maid's eyes widened in horror, her body shaking. "Please, miss, I-I cannot—"

"Do it now!" Jane spat, her anger now at its peak. Her tone left no room for defiance, her eyes burning with contempt.

The maid, trembling, slowly lowered her head. She could do nothing but obey, her face flushed with humiliation as she began to lick the tea off the ground, the faint taste of bitterness lingering on her tongue.

Noah's heart raced in his chest, his breath shallow as he watched the scene unfold before him. The fear he felt now was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. In the slums, he had learned to endure pain and to take beatings but this was different. This fear was suffocating, pressing down on him in a way he couldn't escape.

As Jane's anger escalated, Noah found it impossible to mask the fear that gripped him. His wide eyes betrayed him, no matter how hard he tried to look away.

He wanted to shrink into nothing, to become invisible. But his gaze kept returning to the scene, and his body tensed as his fear tightened its grip. The fear was too strong, too overwhelming to conceal. And in this house, where he was at the mercy of those around him, it left him feeling exposed.

"Pfft…" Theodore let out a quiet laugh, his gaze flickering with amusement. "It appears Jane is gradually turning a maniac!," he remarked, his tone laced with amusement.

"Please, you are hardly in a position to offer such commentary," Kevin shot back, his words lazy yet sharp. He sprawled further into his chair, his posture casual and unbothered, as if the entire exchange held no more weight than a passing breeze.

Lucien, however, sat in stillness, his eyes drifting over the disarray before him. His demeanor remained composed and unwavering, an elegant contrast to the chaos.

He took a slow sip of his tea, his expression unreadable, as though the spectacle unfolding held no more importance than the soft ticking of a distant clock.

"Never a boring day in this household," Lucian remarked, his voice calm and unaffected, his attention already back on the book in front of him.

The silence lingered in the air, thick and heavy, as the servants returned to their duties and the children exchanged wary glances. The tea party had been anything but ordinary, but it seemed, for Lucian, that was simply another day at Marcellus.