The grand hall, once filled with muted conversations and polished elegance, had fallen into a tense, suffocating silence after Elva's sudden collapse.
She lay motionless on the velvet sofa, her fragile frame barely sinking into the plush cushions. Her skin, usually soft with warmth, now appeared unnaturally pale, almost blending into the light fabric beneath her. A faint rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she was still conscious of the world—if only faintly.
Louis Salvatore remained beside her, slightly bent, one arm carefully supporting her back as if afraid she might shatter if he let go. His fingers, usually relaxed and confident, were now tense against her small frame.
"She's really cold…" he murmured, his voice low, laced with concern he hadn't intended to reveal.
Before he could say anything further, a calm, steady voice cut through the stillness.
"Louis."
The single word carried authority.
Louis turned.
A few steps away stood Philip Salvatore—upright, composed, and unreadable as always. His gaze was sharp, his presence commanding without effort.
"Leave her," Philip said evenly.
Louis hesitated, his brows knitting slightly as he glanced back at Elva. For a fleeting second, something in his expression resisted the order.
But Philip continued, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.
"The maids will take care of her."
A brief silence stretched between them.
Then Louis exhaled quietly.
"…Right."
Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from Elva's back, the absence of contact immediate and noticeable. He stepped aside, though his eyes lingered on her far longer than necessary.
Almost instantly, two maids approached.
Their movements were careful and practiced, as though handling something delicate. One knelt beside the sofa and gently took Elva's cold hands between her own, while the other moved behind the couch, supporting her back with quiet precision.
Together, they adjusted her posture, lowering her slowly until she lay fully against the cushions. A small pillow was placed beneath her head, her soft hair spreading like silk across its surface.
Her breathing remained light—fragile, but steady.
The silence deepened.
Then—
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed across the hall.
The family doctor entered, carrying his medical bag, his expression calm but alert. Elizabeth immediately stepped forward, her concern evident despite her composed exterior.
"Doctor, please check her."
"Of course, Madam," he replied with a respectful nod.
He moved to Elva's side and began his examination with practiced ease—fingers pressing lightly against her wrist to check her pulse, eyes observing the rhythm of her breathing, a small light briefly shining near her eyes.
No one spoke.
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
Louis stood nearby, his gaze fixed on Elva, while across the room, Luna Salvatore watched everything in silence. Her eyes shifted subtly—first to Elva, then to Louis.
Observing.
Calculating.
The doctor finally straightened, breaking the heavy quiet.
"There is nothing serious."
Elizabeth exhaled softly, relief easing the tension in her shoulders.
"Then what happened?"
The doctor's tone remained gentle, professional.
"She is suffering from exhaustion and stress."
He glanced down at Elva again, his expression softening slightly.
"Her body is weak at the moment. It seems she hasn't been eating or sleeping properly."
Elizabeth frowned, her gaze turning sympathetic.
"Oh my girl Victoria.…"
"She only needs rest," the doctor continued. "Once she wakes up, give her something warm to drink and let her sleep."
Philip gave a single, acknowledging nod.
"Understood."
The doctor packed his instruments and left shortly after, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Silence returned once more.
Louis found himself looking at Elva again.
Now that the tension had eased, she appeared almost peaceful. Her delicate features, softened in unconsciousness, made her seem even more fragile than before.
Too fragile.
Too fragile for a family like theirs.
A strange feeling stirred within him—unfamiliar, unsettling.
Protectiveness.
Across the hall, Luna noticed.
And this time, she didn't ignore it.
Her gaze lingered on Louis, narrowing ever so slightly. The subtle change in his expression, the way his attention remained fixed on that girl—it didn't escape her.
Her suspicion deepened.
After a moment, Philip spoke again, his voice breaking through the quiet.
"Take her to Matthew's room once she wakes up."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the hall, his presence disappearing as abruptly as it had asserted itself.
One by one, the tension dissolved.
Only a few remained.
Elizabeth stood beside the sofa, her expression softening as she looked down at Elva. A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"Oh dear…"
She shook her head gently, almost amused.
"No wonder she fainted."
Louis glanced at her, confusion flickering in his eyes.
"What do you mean, Aunt?"
Elizabeth chuckled lightly, her tone shifting into something teasing, almost playful.
"Well…" she began, her smile knowing, "newlyweds usually don't sleep much during their first days of marriage."
Her voice dipped slightly, laced with implication.
"They have… work to do at night."
For a moment—
Time seemed to stop.
Louis froze.
The faint trace of a smile on his face vanished instantly. His expression stiffened, his gaze slowly drifting toward Elva.
A tightness formed in his chest—sharp, unfamiliar, and unwelcome.
Across the room—
Luna stilled.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
She understood exactly what Elizabeth meant.
Matthew… and his new bride.
Together.
Close.
Intimately so.
Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Because deep down, she had always admired Matthew. From a distance. Quietly. Without ever daring to cross the line.
And now—
Someone else had taken that place.
The thought stirred something bitter within her.
Meanwhile, Louis's gaze lingered on Elva.
Her small figure seemed even more delicate now, lying quietly against the vast sofa. Her pale face, her soft breathing—it all felt strangely… personal.
He lowered his eyes slightly.
For reasons he couldn't explain—
The idea of her belonging completely to Matthew didn't sit well with him.
Not at all.
And neither Louis nor Luna realized it yet—
But in that quiet, unspoken moment…
They had both felt the same thing.
Jealousy.