THE LATE DUKE’S WILL

The room hadn’t yet recovered from Friedrich’s collapse when Konrad rose to his feet — not to defend himself, but with an almost leisurely composure, as though his part in tonight’s proceedings was the one that truly mattered.

“Since everything’s already been dragged into the light,” he said, still in that same superior tone Isabelle had heard for ten years, “then I don’t suppose I need to pretend any longer.” He looked at me, his eyes holding not a trace of guilt, only the faint pity of a man about to state what he believed to be an obvious truth.

“Isabelle, you’ve been a proper wife, I’ll grant you that. But proper doesn’t mean worth loving. Ten years with you, and I never once felt any excitement walking into a room you were sitting in — you’re boring, flavorless, like a painting on a wall so familiar people stop seeing it at all.”

Murmurs rippled through the room — not sympathy this time, but shock at the sheer shamelessness of those words, spoken in front of so many, without a moment’s hesitation.

He reached a hand back, and Sophie — who had risen from her seat and approached him with slow, measured steps, her head slightly bowed — placed her hand in his.

“I love Sophie,” he announced, his voice ringing out as though he were making a formal declaration at his own engagement, not confessing to a betrayal.

“Truly, not as some passing impulse. I know this is hard for you to accept, Isabelle, but I hope you can be gracious enough to bless us, rather than turn tonight into an interrogation.”

The room went quiet.

Even those who had just turned their backs on Friedrich couldn’t hide their shock at such naked shamelessness — humiliating his former fiancée, then immediately demanding that very same woman grant him her blessing.

Sophie leaned her head gently against Konrad’s shoulder, both hands gripping his arm as though seeking support, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at me.

“Sister Isabelle,” she said, her voice trembling, “I’m so sorry it’s come to this. Konrad and I never meant to hurt you, truly. This just… happened, naturally, no one planned it. I only hope you can understand — this is real love, and I hope… I hope you can bless us, the way you’ve always cared for me these eighteen years.”

Her voice broke at just the right moment, a single tear falling right on cue.

Several council members, especially those who remembered Sophie growing up as a shy little orphan, began to waver.