Chapter 3

Kaitlin Ratcliff POV:

After sealing my letter the next morning, I went downstairs to the first-floor reception hall to host a small tea party for the wives of several vassal lords. I sat in the master chair, sipping hot black tea while the noblewomen flattered me over the new batch of southern spices I had gifted them.

Bang!

The double doors of the hall were shoved open. Addisyn marched in with her chin held high, wearing a thick layer of white powder to hide yesterday's slap mark—and that same deep red velvet gown.

Looking for revenge, she walked straight up to the center table and deliberately swept her arm across it. My porcelain teacup flew off the edge and shattered on the floor, splashing scalding red tea all over the imported rug.

"What cheap trash is this? How dare you serve such swill to our guests?" Addisyn sneered, glaring at me to reclaim her lost pride.

Around the table, the vassal wives instantly shut their mouths, exchanging awkward glances. None of them dared interfere in the Whitaker family's domestic war.

I set my saucer down slowly. Ignoring the wet stain on the rug, I stared directly at the hem of her skirt, where roaring flames were stitched in gleaming gold thread.

"Addisyn," I said, standing up from my chair. "What kind of fabric are you wearing?"

Thinking I was jealous, she twirled around proudly, letting the heavy velvet flare out. "My brother brought this back from the royal capital just for me! A lowly Dragonless woman like you has probably never even seen silk this fine."

I let out a cold laugh and walked toward her. Faced with my icy stare, she instinctively backed up half a step.

"Not only have I seen it, I know its exact name," I said, enunciating every word clearly. "That is Royal Court Dragon-silk."

Sharp gasps echoed around the reception hall. Several noblewomen paled and pulled their chairs back, trying to distance themselves from Addisyn.

In this kingdom, clothing was strictly bound by bloodline rank. Only pure-blood royals with Dragon-God blood were permitted to wear golden dragonfire patterns.

"According to the Royal Dragon Code, anyone outside the royal family who wears golden dragonfire thread without the King's decree commits high treason," I said, staring dead into her eyes.

The smug smile vanished from Addisyn's face, replaced by sheer terror. Even an idiot knew what treason meant in the Dragon Court.

"You... you're lying!" she stammered, her voice shaking. "Dashawn gave this to me!"

"The Commander spends his life on the border and doesn't know capital fabrics, which can be forgiven," I snapped sharply. "But you paraded this forbidden pattern in front of vassal wives today. Are you trying to drag the entire Whitaker family to the Dragon Execution Block?"

Turning my head toward the captain of the guard standing by the door, I gave a cold order.

"Strip that treasonous garment off her right now and burn it!"

The guard captain hesitated for a second, but under my piercing gaze, he stepped forward with two maids.

"Don't touch me! How dare you!" Addisyn shrieked, scrambling backward, but the captain had already grabbed her velvet collar.

Riiip!

The expensive gown tore apart at the seams, leaving Addisyn standing in the middle of the hall in nothing but her thin white silk slip.

Shivering violently, she crossed her arms over her chest as hot tears spilled down her powdered cheeks. The vassal wives turned their heads away, whispering behind their folding fans.

"Kaitlin, you vicious bitch! I'll make my brother divorce you today!" Addisyn screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Divorce me? Fine," I said, walking up to look down at her shivering frame. "Until then, butler, cut off the young lady's monthly gold allowance completely, and close every single credit tab she holds in the capital's shops."

Standing by the pillar, the old butler wiped cold sweat from his forehead and bowed low. "Yes, Madam."

Losing her credit accounts meant she was completely broke in high society. Sobbing hysterically, Addisyn covered her face and bolted out of the hall in her underclothes.

I waved my hand, and the guards tossed the torn velvet dress into the roaring fireplace. As the gold threads crackled and burned into black ash, I turned back to the stunned noblewomen with a gentle smile.

"Forgive the, ladies. The tea has gone cold—let me have the kitchen bring a fresh pot."

The vassal wives hurriedly bowed their heads in respect, their eyes filled with newfound fear. Leaving them to their tea, I walked out the front gates and climbed into my carriage to claim the forbidden gold mines in the western suburbs.