Livia had endured her heat cycle peacefully, and normalcy had resumed. Even from the morning, a magic tutor appointed by the emperor had arrived to instruct her. She was immersed in her studies until she was informed that Duke Fiore had arrived requesting her audience. Livia had overlooked this detail—the possibility that her family might visit one day. She had to remember something about the Duke; he was quite strict and the one who urged Livia to wed the king, regardless of how the monarch might treat her. Livia entered the room where the Duke awaited and he was taken aback to see her enter, dressed in a simple robe and trousers, a stark contrast to her usual attire. Moreover, she had simply walked in and seated herself across from him without offering a respectful greeting.
"Father! What brings you here?"
The servants accompanying the Duke were shocked by the disrespectful manner in which she addressed her father, as Livia was normally submissive to him.
"I heard that you had a head injury and it seems to be true. Do I need to educate you once more?"
His words were perplexing, but she assumed it was because he was a strict man.
"Indeed, it was a severe blow; I was in a coma for several days."
"How can you be so clumsy and ineffectual? Not only have you failed to conceive, but you almost killed yourself."
Still unable to make sense of the situation, Livia was on the receiving end of her father's offensive insults. Had it been like this in the novel? She couldn't recall any of that.
"I don't think there's a rush for pregnancy. All in good time."
"Are you defying me? That impact must have affected you. You'd better stick to the plans."
Now Livia was truly bewildered. Was her father urging her to bear a child immediately?
"Well, it's my body, and I'll decide what to do with it, Father."
"Enough! I'll make you understand by force since it seems you've forgotten to whom you owe respect."
The Duke rose to his feet, pounding the coffee table with his fist, and unexpectedly, Livia was seized by the hair and thrown to the floor by the man, followed by a stinging slap. She hadn't known the Duke could be so aggressive with his son. Then, she felt a strike on her back that seared her skin; when she looked, the Duke had a whip in hand. Livia attempted to crawl away while the Duke's servants held onto him.
"Sir, please no commotion, the guards may arrive."
"Release me; I'm merely disciplining my son."
Livia's body was weak, and it was clear that the beatings were causing her immense pain. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her body trembling. Why? Why couldn't she do anything against this man? She closed her eyes, and in seconds, childhood memories flooded her mind. She was despised in her family for being born an omega, relegated to the most remote room—a near attic—fed on scraps and denied the noble education due to a noble's child. It was only when she started to blossom and grow beautiful that she was dressed properly for a presentation to the former king, Luka's father. After seeing her, the old king commented on Livia's beauty, suggesting she could become queen. That single remark overheard by the Dukes ignited a scheme to mold Livia into a beautiful puppet to infiltrate as queen, seduce the king and, after bearing his child, dispose of him. Now she understood why Livia was detested by the king; she remembered their first wedding night and the day Rita pushed her down the stairs. Freeing himself from his servants' hold, the Duke aimed for another strike, but Livia stood up, fury in her eyes.
"I am no longer your puppet, old man. I am the queen, and you owe me respect. I won't have you arrested for striking me, but I will bring your family to ruin."
Livia gestured a thumb down, maintaining her angry expression, and as the Duke advanced on her, she called for the guards, who swiftly arrived.
"Remove the Duke and prohibit his return to my palace."
"What? Curse you, omega. I will..."
As the Duke was escorted from the palace, Livia sat on the couch, wincing from the pain, quickly attended by Flora and Lina to treat her wounds. Through the doors behind that room, the king had overheard everything and promptly departed, ordering the Duke be brought to his study. When the guards and Duke were about to exit, other guards arrived instructing the Duke to follow them; the king had summoned him.
"Your Majesty, you've summoned me. How may this weary man assist you?"
The Duke bowed, his disdain clearly etched on his face.
"Spare me your hypocrisy, Duke. I know everything. The queen confessed to me, thinking she was dying."
The statement paralyzed the Duke, but he soon laughed feignedly.
"I wonder what she might have said? But with such a heavy blow, perhaps it was nonsensical."
"Duke Fiore, I care little for your influence, but bear in mind that influence is futile if ruin is your fate."
"Your Majesty! Are you threatening me?"
"Not at all, but one can never predict what might happen."
"Of course, that's why I always take great care."
With that, he excused himself citing urgent matters to attend to, exiting the scene. Fuming, the Duke saw first Livia expelling and defying him, and then the king summoning him just to issue a veiled threat. Nevertheless, the Duke harbored his own designs, and the kingdom would be his in time.
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