Acidity of Regret Ch 31
- Dec 26, 2025
- 7 min read
Elliot had always been a statue in her presence—unflinching, stoic, a man who could take a blade to the chest without so much as a grimace. But now, his face was a contorted mask of agony and rage, as if he were being forced to swallow hot coals.
Vanessa stared at him, bewildered by the venom in his voice when he spoke of her marriage. Thinking he didn't understand how she had survived, she rushed to explain.
[Vanessa] "When I was at my lowest, the Grand Duke came for me. He saved me, Elliot. If it weren't for him, I would have been sold... I would have been a slave."
[Elliot] "Saved you?"
He let out a dry, hollow laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. His hazel eyes burned with a dark, flickering intensity. She recognized that look instantly.
It was pure, unadulterated fury.
[Elliot] "The man who ruined you is the one you’re thanking for your salvation? My Lady, you have been deceived by a monster."
The words felt like a physical blow, leaving her mind a blurred, static mess. Her heart began to beat in a frantic, uneven rhythm.
[Vanessa] "...What?"
[Elliot] "The Grand Duke."
He stepped closer, forcing her to look into his eyes, his voice dropping into a lethal, steady murmur.
[Elliot] "Declan Vinkart is the informant. He is the one who fed the Emperor the lies about your father’s treason."
A cold, creeping numbness spread from the pit of her stomach to her fingertips, paralyzing her.
What was he saying?
False treason. Informant. Declan?
The concepts refused to click together, like jagged gears grinding against one another. Her brain searched for a way to reject it, but the tiny shred of logic left in her mind forced her to hear him.
She let out a sharp, brittle laugh of her own.
[Vanessa] "What on earth are you talking about, Elliot? You aren't making sense."
[Elliot] "My Lady..."
[Vanessa] "Declan wouldn't... he couldn't."
She tried to keep smiling, to keep the joke alive, but her lips were turning to stone. The blood in her veins felt like slush.
She shook her head violently and forced herself to stand, her legs wobbling like a newborn fawn's.
[Vanessa] "No. It’s impossible. Why? Why would he do that? It makes no sense. If he wanted us destroyed, why would he rescue me?"
[Elliot] "I don’t know his end game, My Lady. All I know is the truth. When I heard that you had become the Grand Duchess, I felt... I felt the world had gone mad."
He rubbed his face with his hands, looking exhausted.
He pointedly refused to use her royal title, clinging to "My Lady" as if it were a life raft.
Vanessa stared at him, her face a mask of pale horror.
If this were any other knight from the estate, she would have dismissed it as a bitter lie. She would have suspected a plot to drive a wedge between her and her husband.
But this was Elliot. He was incapable of lying to her. Their shared history was a root of trust too deep to be easily pulled up. Yet, her love for Declan had become a fortress she wasn't ready to surrender.
A tempest swirled in her head. It felt as if her own family was putting her heart on trial.
Seeing her spiraling into shock, Elliot sighed and began to lay out the pieces.
[Elliot] "In the early hours of that morning, before the Imperial Guard breached the gates, the Crown Prince’s personal guard found me."
The story Elliot told was a nightmare she had never heard the ending to.
Prince Hayden’s guard had arrived with a desperate warning: an informant had struck, and the Rohawks were being framed for treason.
There was no time. The Count knew that once the label of "traitor" was applied, execution followed immediately. To save his household from total slaughter, he chose to stay and face the blade.
He had ordered his knights to take Vanessa and run, but Hayden’s guard had stopped them.
[Elliot] "The guard told us the Prince had already made arrangements. He promised that even if you were captured, he would ensure your safety. But if we took you and fled, the Imperial Guard would have hunted us to the ends of the earth. Your father... he believed the Prince. He told us to save ourselves so that we could serve you later. He stayed behind to buy us time."
The truth of that morning—the hours she had spent in a drugged, peaceful sleep—was more horrific than anything she had imagined.
She had spent months doubting her father's honor. She had spent nights wondering why her knights had abandoned her.
All of it had been for nothing.
Her chest tightened until she could barely draw breath. The weight of these revelations was crushing her, distorting her reality until she felt sick.
[Vanessa] "But that doesn't add up. You say the Prince helped me? Then why... why did he let me be sent to the slave auction?"
Elliot’s brow furrowed, his confusion matching her own.
[Elliot] "The auction? That’s impossible. If he had intended that, he wouldn't have spent every waking hour since that night scouring the Empire for you."
[Vanessa] "He was... searching for me?"
[Elliot] "Yes. That is how I found him. I was tracing your scent from the Imperial dungeons when I ran into the Prince's men. I thought they were hunters sent to finish you off, so I attacked. I got this scar in the fray."
Elliot traced the jagged line on his lip.
Her eyes drifted to his cloak. The black wool was embossed with a subtle, shimmering gold crest—the emblem of the Imperial Guard.
It was the proof. Elliot was working with Hayden.
She remembered the knight who had dropped his sword at dinner. It had been Elliot. He had seen her—his "Lady"—sitting beside the man who had destroyed her family.
[Vanessa] "..."
But the Prince and the knights didn't matter right now. Only one phrase kept looping in her mind like a death sentence:
Declan was the informant.
She tried to push it away. Her heart screamed that it was a lie. Declan wouldn't put her in a cage just to play the hero. He wouldn't kill her father.
[Elliot] "My Lady, the Grand Duke is dangerous. I don't know what he wants from you, but you cannot stay here. You cannot be near him."
His words were the final nail in the coffin of her peace.
A migraine bloomed behind her eyes. Memories of her time in the Duchy flashed before her—the quiet moments by the lake, the secret wedding, the heat of their first night, his whispered confession that he wanted her.
He was so warm. So sweet. How could he be the villain of her story?
She swayed, her balance failing. Elliot caught her immediately, his grip firm.
[Vanessa] "Elliot, I... I don't..."
I don't know what to do.
She didn't have proof that Declan was the informant, but she didn't have proof that Elliot was lying. And then there was Hayden.
Nothing made sense. The truth felt like a swamp, and the further she waded into it, the deeper she sank.
[Vanessa] "I don't know. How can I possibly know what's real?"
He squeezed her shoulders, his voice urgent.
[Elliot] "The Crown Prince has promised to help you escape this place."
Vanessa looked at him with hollow eyes. The words felt distant, as if he were speaking from across an ocean.
Escape? Leave Declan?
[Elliot] "Two nights from now, the Prince leaves the Duchy. I will come for you then. Be ready."
[Vanessa] "Elliot... I can't just leave."
She pulled her hand away, a flicker of her old fire returning to her eyes.
She couldn't just run. She didn't believe in blind faith anymore, but she also couldn't throw away her love for Declan based on a ghost's word. Her heart was a shackle she couldn't break.
Elliot opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of voices echoed down the gallery.
“Your Grace!”
The maids called out, their footsteps drawing closer.
He clicked his tongue and reached into his tunic.
[Elliot] "This is the proof of the informant's identity. The Crown Prince told me to give this to you directly."
The footsteps were right around the corner. Elliot shoved a heavy, folded parchment into her hands, pulled his hood over his face, and vanished into the shadows like a wisp of smoke.
Left alone, Vanessa looked down at the parchment. Hearing the maids approach, she instinctively shoved the paper deep into her silk sleeve.
[Maid] "Oh, thank heavens! Your Grace!"
The maid who had gone for the blanket appeared, looking breathless. She cried out to the others that the Duchess had been found. Soon, a swarm of servants surrounded her, peppering her with frantic questions.
Vanessa offered a weak, flimsy excuse about losing her way—a lie so transparent it was almost insulting—but it was all she could manage.
Her head was ringing. As they led her back to the bedchamber, her right arm felt impossibly heavy.
The parchment was there.
The servants were unusually attentive, their fussing masking their own fear of being blamed for her disappearance. Vanessa didn't care.
Once she was finally alone, she sat on the edge of the bed and slowly pulled the parchment from her sleeve.
Her hands were shaking so violently that the paper rattled. She was terrified to open it.
Part of her still clung to the light of her faith in Declan. She was terrified that whatever was written inside would snuff that light out forever.
But she had to know. This was the truth she had prayed for.
She swallowed hard, her heart thundering against her ribs.
She took a deep breath and broke the seal.
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