To make amends, Louis stayed by Cersei’s side throughout her hospital stay, attending to her with complete devotion. Tenderness flowed between them again, and occasionally she experienced brief moments of the past, as if they had returned to the beginning—before Violet entered their lives, when he still loved her deeply. But this tranquility didn’t last long.

The hospital door swung open as Violet walked in, carrying a bouquet of lilies, her face wearing an expression of remorse.

“Cersei, are you feeling better?”

“It’s all my fault. If Louis hadn’t chosen to save me first, you wouldn’t have been so badly injured. I’m so sorry.”

“Violet,” Louis interrupted, his tone unusually serious. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize or feel guilty. You were also a victim. The kidnapper clearly knew too much—it’s obvious he was targeting me.”

A cynical smile tugged at Cersei’s lips. He always found ways to excuse Violet.

Violet’s eyes brimmed with tears. “But still…”

“Enough,” Louis softened his voice. “You should go first. Cersei needs to take a break.”

Once Violet left, the silence settled thick between them again. Louis tried to hold Cersei’s hand, but she pulled away.

“Cersei, the doctor says you can be discharged,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’ll come get you tomorrow.”

On discharge day, the sunlight was blindingly bright. As soon as Cersei stepped through the hospital entrance, she saw Louis and Violet standing side by side near the car. Violet clung to his arm, only releasing him reluctantly when she spotted Cersei.

“Cersei!” Violet ran over, feigning enthusiasm. “If it weren’t for you and Louis, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I feel so terrible that you lost your baby because of me. I’ve made a reservation at a restaurant. I hope you don’t mind.”

Her acting was excellent. If Cersei hadn’t already known the truth, she might have believed Violet was genuinely apologetic.

Cersei smirked coldly. “No thanks.”

“Cersei,” Louis stepped forward, lowering his voice. “It’s Violet’s goodwill gesture. Don’t make her feel awkward.”

Again, this pattern. Always prioritizing Violet’s feelings over her wishes. Cersei eventually found herself dragged to the restaurant.

The establishment was elegantly decorated with warm yellow lighting. Violet sat beside Louis, flipping through the menu with a bright smile.

“Louis, I remember you love spicy food. This place is famous for their Cajun blackened fish!” She enthusiastically ordered several signature spicy dishes, then turned to Cersei with feigned thoughtfulness, “Cersei, would you like to try some too?”

Cersei remained silent, staring at the table full of dishes. She had a sensitive stomach and couldn’t handle spicy food. She still remembered that night, a housekeeper had prepared a spicy dish. She tried a bite and ended up in agony, curled up in bed with cold sweat pouring down her face. Louis had been frantic. He’d called a private doctor in the middle of the night. And after that, not a single spicy dish ever appeared on their table again. But now, because Violet liked spicy food, everything had changed.

Louis seemed to have completely forgotten this fact. Throughout the meal, he focused entirely on Violet—serving her food, pouring her water, even carefully wiping sauce from the corner of her mouth. Only as they were finishing did he notice Cersei had barely touched her food. He frowned, mistaking her silence for another act of stubbornness. Then he picked up a piece of buffalo chicken and dropped it into her plate.

“Cersei, try this. Violet searched hard for this place. The food’s actually really good.”

“I’m not hungry,” she pushed the plate away, her voice terrifyingly calm.