In the dimly lit hallway, Anthony barged in, his hands clenched at his sides, his heart heavy with unresolved emotions. Across from him, the object of his turmoil stood, her gaze steady despite the storm brewing within him.

"You left," he began, his voice low and tinged with anger. "You left without so much as a word, without a single explanation."

The girl huffed in anger, pure disbelief evident in her expression as she struggled to contain her emotions. "I left because of you," she retorted, her voice edged with frustration.

"Of course, it is my fault, how is it that I made you leave?" Anthony's pacing brought him closer, his fists clenched even tighter as he fought to suppress his rising anger.

"How dare you," she seethed, causing Anthony to retreat ever so slightly. "Was it that easy to forget?" Her words were a direct assault, each syllable like a dagger aimed at his heart.

"What is it you talk about?" Anthony restated his dominance, his stance firm as he sought to regain control of the conversation.

"You must remember she grew up without a mother, not much of a lady is to be expected from one who wasn't raised by one." Her eyes became cold, her tone laced with pain as she recited his hurtful words from years past.

His heart sank as he realisation flooded in, she had overheard that conversation so long ago. "Evienne, that wasn't a lady's conversation, it was not meant for your ears."

"Do not address me by my name, you have no right. It is Duchess to you," she almost yelled, her words striking him with force. "How does it feel, Anthony," she emphasised his name with such power, "being lesser than me, when I once was to you?" It was as if she mocked him, the pain evident in her voice.

"I blame you entirely. You drove me to leave, to become this so-called lady I was not. To not come home until I was perfect, to leave my family, to leave my sister, to let her die alone. You did this, and for that I cannot forgive you," each word drove further into his heart, her final words twisting the dagger as she pulled it out.

"I can never expect you to understand," he began, his voice tinged with frustration, "but you were a child then. I was in pain from the loss of my father. I might have said something that hurt you, but look, it did more good than evil, didn't it? You wouldn't have secured this many offers for marriage if it weren't for this so-called lady you have become."

Completely unexpected, Anthony took a different approach to the argument than Evienne had anticipated. She thought his ego would be too wounded, that he would retreat, but instead, he too had a dagger of his own.

"How dare you," she walked forward to him, pushing her finger against his chest. "How dare I? How dare you?" he retorted, pushing his finger back. "Me? No, how dare you," she shot back, her frustration boiling over.

"Yes, I know it is hard for you to accept that you did wrong," he continued, his anger rising with each word.

"How dare you," she finally yelled, her voice echoing through the hallway as she slapped his face. In the heat of the moment, he grabbed her hand, their proximity forgotten in the intensity of their rage. Their faces drew closer, their rage fuelling the tension between them, as their faces drew closer, until they finally realised the position they were in, as she shoved him off her in frustration before storming off. He grunted in anger, walking off in the opposite direction.