The morning sun rose slowly over the capital city, casting a bright, golden light across the high stone walls of the Benson mansion.

Inside the washroom, Camilla was getting ready for the day. She dried her skin with a soft white towel, feeling surprisingly rested.

She walked into her bedroom and opened the wardrobe. She wanted to wear something nice today. She picked out a beautiful, soft peach-colored day dress. The fabric was light and comfortable. It had delicate white lace around the sleeves and a simple, elegant neckline.

She sat in front of her mirror and brushed her red curly hair until it shone. She pinned a few strands back with a simple silver clip, leaving the rest to fall in soft waves over her shoulders. She looked at her reflection and smiled.

She looked all dressed up and very cute, she thought to herself.

As she stood up to leave the room, a warm, happy memory floated into her mind. It was a memory from the deep, peaceful sleep she just had.

"Oh Winston," Camilla thought to herself.

A very soft, incredibly sweet, and completely genuine smile spread across her pink lips. She closed her eyes for a brief second, remembering the dream. In her dream, she was back in her modern house. She was sitting on her sofa, and her orange tabby cat, Winston, was curled up into a warm ball right on her lap. She could almost feel his soft fur and hear his loud, happy purring. It was a perfect, comforting dream.

Still wearing that soft, sweet smile, Camilla opened her bedroom door and walked out into the hallway. She walked down the grand staircase, headed toward the dining room and opened the door. It was already morning, and she knew she had to get down for breakfast because Damon was still around. The maid that came to prepare her bath had told her that he had an important meeting scheduled for later, so he hasn’t gone for his daily business at the military camp yet.

Downstairs, inside the dining room, the atmosphere was completely different. It was not warm or happy at all. It was freezing cold and incredibly tense.

Damon was already sitting at the head of the long table. He was waiting for her to join him to have breakfast.

His face looked terrible. There were faint dark circles under his brown eyes. He had not slept a single minute after she fell asleep in his arms. He had spent the entire rest of the night lying flat on his back, staring blindly at the wooden ceiling, completely tormented by the name she had whispered continuously in the dark.

As Damon sat at the empty table, he heard the soft, light footsteps of his wife coming down the stairs.

He heard the clear, happy thought ringing inside her mind as she entered the room.

I dreamt of my Winston last night.

Damon froze. His large hands, resting on the wooden table, instantly curled into very tight, hard fists. His knuckles turned pure white.

A burning wave of jealousy exploded in his chest. It was a hot, violent anger that made his blood boil. He was absolutely fuming.

"My Winston?" Damon thought to himself. His internal voice was furious. He stared at the empty table.

"She can call him by his first name, and not me?" Damon’s angry thoughts raced wildly. "She always calls me ’General’ or ’My Lord’ with that fake, mocking tone. But this man... she calls him by his actual name. She even classified him as hers! ’My’ Winston!"

Damon gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

"If he is ’hers’," Damon thought, a sharp, bitter pain hitting his heart, "then what exactly am I to her? Am I just a temporary obstacle? Am I just a blank wall standing in her way?"

Just then, Camilla walked through the open double doors of the dining room.

Damon looked up. He immediately saw her face. He saw the beautiful, soft peach dress. And most importantly, he saw the smile on her lips.

It was a very soft, sweet, unguarded smile. It made her eyes sparkle with happiness.

Damon felt his chest tighten painfully. His thoughts continued again, full of deep bitterness.

"She is smiling for him," Damon realized in his mind, staring at her beautiful face. "She is thinking about another man, and she is smiling like that. And it is a genuine smile. I have never, ever seen her smile at me like that."

Camilla walked into the room. She was so busy thinking about her fluffy orange cat that she did not immediately notice the dark, terrifying storm brewing at the head of the table.

She finally looked toward the end of the table and saw Damon sitting there.

Camilla stopped walking. She placed her hands gracefully on her dress and offered a polite curtsy.

"Good morning, my lord," Camilla greeted him politely.

As she looked up and truly saw his face, her sweet smile faltered a little bit.

Damon looked really furious. His dark brown eyes were hard and cold, glaring at her as if she had just committed a terrible crime. The muscles in his jaw were ticking. He looked unapproachable.

Damon did not return her polite greeting with any warmth.

"Good morning," Damon replied to her. His deep voice was flat, sharp, and devoid of any emotion. It sounded like an iron door slamming shut.

Camilla frowned slightly. She stood up from her curtsy and dropped her hands to her sides.

"What is wrong with him now?" Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was filled with deep annoyance.

She walked slowly toward her chair on the left side of the long table.

"I literally just walked into the room," she complained in her mind, keeping her face perfectly blank. "I haven’t even said a single sarcastic word yet today. Why is he already looking at me like he wants to chop my head off with his broadsword? He is so incredibly moody."

A young footman in a neat uniform quickly stepped forward. He bowed his head and helped her pull out he chair. Camilla sat down carefully, arranging the skirt of her peach dress around her legs.

Just as she got comfortable, the side door of the dining room opened.

Mr. Murry walked into the room. He carried a clean white towel over his arm. He looked very cheerful, completely unaware of the silent war happening between the husband and wife.

"Good morning, my lord," Murry said smoothly. He stopped near the head of the table and bowed deeply to Damon.

Damon gave the housekeeper a very short, sharp nod. He did not speak.

Murry turned his body and looked at Camilla.

"Good morning, my lady," Murry greeted her, bowing respectfully.

Camilla pushed her annoyance away for a moment. She liked Uncle Murry. She offered Murry a small, polite smile.

"Good morning, Uncle Murry," Camilla replied softly.