Helen was frantically tearing through her wardrobe, her breath coming in ragged hitches, when the massive 85-inch television in her bedroom snapped to life of its own accord. She screamed, dropping a silk gown as the blaring theme of a national news network filled the room.

"BREAKING NEWS: SCANDAL AT THE HEART OF ROYAL," the anchor’s voice boomed. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Helen froze, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The screen flickered to a high-definition photo of Lucas—not the proud executive he had been, but a grainy, terrifying mugshot-style image.

"In a shocking development this morning, Lucas Halbert, a high-ranking executive of Royal’s California division, has been accused of massive embezzlement and the theft of the highly classified ’Sacred Worm Nectar.’ Sources within the company claim the evidence is irrefutable. Miller is currently at large and considered extremely dangerous. In related news, reports are coming in from Black Rock Penitentiary that his father, Vincent Miller, was killed earlier today during a violent escape attempt..."

The room seemed to tilt. The world turned a sickening shade of gray as Helen’s knees buckled. Vincent was dead? Lucas was a fugitive?

"No... no, no, no!" she shrieked, clawing at her hair. "Etienne! You have to stop this! Please!"

Panic, raw and cold, surged through her. She didn’t have time to find the ’appropriate’ dress. She grabbed a trench coat, throwing it over a sheer, black lace slip that barely covered her, and stepped into a pair of high-heeled boots. She didn’t even stop to check her makeup; her mascara was smeared from her tears, and her hair was a tangled mess.

She sprinted to her luxury SUV in the parking garage, tires screeching as she peeled out into the city streets.

The drive was a blur of near-misses and frantic lane changes. Every billboard she passed seemed to be mocking her. Every pedestrian on the sidewalk felt like a spy. At a red light, she looked to her left and saw a group of teenagers staring at a digital news stand—her son’s face was plastered right there. She felt like a criminal, exposed and naked under the gaze of a world that was suddenly closing in on her.

"Move! Get out of my way!" she screamed at the traffic, pounding her steering wheel until her palms were bruised.

When the massive, obsidian spire of Royal Headquarters finally loomed over the horizon, Helen felt a sense of overwhelming vertigo. She knew Etienne was powerful, but seeing the sheer scale of the fortress—guarded by soldiers in futuristic power armor and surrounded by humming energy fields—made her realize she hadn’t known the half of it. This wasn’t just a company; it was a sovereign nation.

She pulled up to the main gate, her SUV skidding to a halt. A guard, his face hidden behind a darkened visor, stepped forward, his hand resting on a high-frequency laser rifle.

Helen rolled down the window, her face pale and trembling. "I’m... I’m Helen. I have an appointment with... with Master Etienne."

The guard remained silent for a heartbeat, his visor reflecting her desperate, ruined face. Then, a low chime echoed from his helmet.

"The Master has been expecting you, Mrs. Helen" the guard said, his voice a cold, mechanical monotone. "Proceed to the central elevator. Do not deviate from the path."

The heavy titanium gates slid open with a hiss. Helen felt a chill run down her spine.

The elevator ride was a deadly silence. When the doors hissed open on the top floor, Helen practically stumbled out, her breath coming in shallow, jagged gasps. She was led to a massive, cold boardroom. The table was a single slab of polished obsidian, reflecting her disheveled face like a dark mirror. She collapsed into a chair, her hands shaking so violently she had to sit on them to keep them still.

The heavy doors clicked.

Ethan stepped in. He wasn’t the warm, doting "Etienne" from her fantasies. He was cold, his amethyst eyes devoid of any affection. He moved with a furius gaze, sliding a thick manila folder across the table before sitting directly opposite her.

"Etienne! Oh, thank God!" Helen burst out, the words tumbling over each other. "Please, you have to listen! Lucas is innocent! It’s all a mistake, a horrible setup! I’ll do anything, I’ll give you everything, just save my boy!"

She threw herself from the chair, falling to her knees and crawling toward his side of the table until her forehead pressed against the cold floor at his feet. "Please... don’t let them take him!"

Ethan looked down at her, his expression twisting into one of utter disgust. "Get up, Helen. I hate hypocrites."

He tapped the folder. "Open it. Explain these to me. I trusted you. I put my faith in your family... and this is the gratitude I receive?"

With trembling fingers, Helen opened the folder. Her eyes widened as she saw the photos—meticulously crafted by Crul. There was Lucas, caught in high-definition handoffs; bank statements showing millions in diverted Royal funds; surveillance stills of him holding the stolen Sacred Nectar vials.

"The evidence is irrefutable, Helen! Your son is a goddamn thief!" Ethan roared, his voice echoing like thunder in the room. "I saved him from the gutter! I gave him a life! And he steals from my very soul? You told me his previous arrest was a trap, a lie. Now read the last few pages!"

Helen turned to the back of the file. Her blood turned to ice. The documents showed that Lucas’s original prison sentence wasn’t a mistake—it was for the exact same crime: corporate espionage and grand larceny. He had played her. He had played everyone.

Her world didn’t just crack; it vanished. The "good son" was a monster. The man she loved was a vengeful god. She felt the noose tightening, and in her panicked, broken mind, she reached for the only weapon she had left: her body.

"I didn’t know..." she sobbed, her voice hollow. "I swear on my life, Master... I didn’t know he was a snake."

She stood up slowly, her eyes glazed with a desperate, dark resolve. She let the trench coat slide off her shoulders, revealing the sheer black lace slip underneath. "Please... forgive this bitch. I was blind. Do what you must with him. Kill him if it calms your rage! He is nothing to me if he betrayed you! I swear, I had no part in this!"

She didn’t dare touch him, fearing his wrath would turn physical. Instead, she turned around, leaning over the obsidian table, arching her back until her massive, lace-covered glutes were inches from his face. With a frantic, trembling hand, she reached back and tore the delicate fabric of her slip, exposing herself completely to him.

"Please... fuck me," she whispered, her voice a depraved whimper. "My son is dead to me. My husband is gone. Make me a new one, Master... I beg of you. Take me however you want, just don’t cast me out!"

As she gave this pathetic, soul-crushing performance, she was blissfully unaware of the wall behind Ethan. It wasn’t stone—it was one-way glass.

On the other side stood Lucas and Vincent.

Vincent looked like a walking corpse, his face pale and eyes sunken. He watched his wife—the woman he had supposedly died for—offer herself like a common animal to the son of the man he had murdered years ago. Beside him, Lucas felt his heart shatter into a thousand jagged pieces. His mother, his only hope, had just signed his death warrant and offered to replace him in the same breath.

They stood in the dark, forced to watch the total, agonizing destruction of their family’s dignity. The humiliation was absolute.