Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Before the full weight of Duchess Lyra's threat could settle in the tense, quiet room, Anne stood up. With a movement that was full of a practiced, well planned grace, she went and knelt on the floor in front of Delia.

"Sister," she began, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "Can you please forgive me, just this once?"

Delia looked down at her, her own expression a mask of cold, weary disbelief. "What?"

"Duke Eric," Anne continued, her eyes now welling up with large, dramatic tears. "He was the first man I have ever truly loved. When you jumped in and took him away from me, it made me so angry, so full of a pain I did not know how to handle." Fat, glistening tears began to stream down her beautiful face. "I had no idea how you, my own sister, could do such a thing to me."

Delia rolled her eyes, completely uninterested in the pathetic, false scene that was playing out before her.

Anne continued with her performance, her voice now choked with sobs. "I managed to give him up, to try and move on. And then I met someone else, Duke Philip. But now, now I cannot even be with him, because he is Duke Eric's brother, and our families are in this terrible state." From the side, Duchess Lyra rolled her own eyes and let out a soft, frustrated sigh at the sheer absurdity of the performance.

"When Evelin Pembroke told me about her terrible plan to print those pamphlets, telling me she wanted to take revenge on you for shattering her brother's heart," Anne confessed, looking up at Delia with wide, pleading eyes, "I knew in my head that it was a wrong and wicked thing to do. But in my heart… in my heart, I also thought that you deserved it. That is why I did not stop her. And for that, I am truly sorry."

"Is this the best you could come up with?" Delia replied, her voice flat and unbothered. "That I stole your man?"

"No…No, it is just from my perspective," Anne replied, her voice now a desperate plea. "And as an apology, as you wanted, I will give up my share of the Ellington inheritance. I will give it all to you. I will do whatever you want me to do. I am really, truly sorry, Delia."

"First of all," Delia replied, her own voice as cold and as sharp as ice, "that inheritance is mine to begin with, so you had better start looking for something else that you can use as an apology. And second, why are you being like this, all of a sudden? What is your real motive, Anne?"

Sensing this as her cue, Augusta stood up from her chair and, with a look of deep, motherly sorrow, helped her weeping daughter up from the floor. The mother and daughter, now standing together, continued with their well-rehearsed plan.

"Delia, my dear," Augusta began, her voice full of a false, gentle reason. "If there is anything, anything at all, that you have held against us all this time, please, let it all out now. It is our fault. We were wrong. But please, do not transfer your hatred of us to your poor, sick father." She gestured to the frail man in the bed. " He is already sick as it is. Don't make it hard for him."

Delia looked at Augusta suspiciously. " What is this woman up to now." She thought to herself.

"Please, Delia." Augusta continued with her performance. "Help us make the Royal Bank process the loan that your father approved for me to collect. The loan that was meant to better the Ellington Textile Establishment."

Delia's eyes widened in genuine shock. She had not expected this. "What are you trying to say?"

Augusta feigned a look of deep, sorrowful disappointment. "I looked into it myself," she lied smoothly, "because we had not heard anything from the bank for so long. And it was then that I found out that the entire loan process was cancelled. Delia, this business, this was your father's lifelong dream. To restore its honor." She looked at Henry, her own eyes now full of tears. "Now that you have stopped the process, what is he supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?"

Lyra, who had been watching this entire performance with a look of growing disgust, turned to Delia. "What is she talking about, Delia?" she asked.

Henry himself turned to his wife, his own face a mask of confusion. "Augusta, what are you talking about? What do you mean? Are you talking about the loan you told me about for the transformation of Ellington Textile?"

Augusta nodded as she pulled out a handkerchief to dab her tears.

"The cancellation of the loan has already caused a stir in the company," She continued, her voice now rising with an exaggerated panic, her accusation now directed at Delia. "Our monetary value is plummeting, our investors are pulling out," She pointed at Delia. "And it is all because of your selfish, greedy daughter! She is out to destroy this family because she hates us all."

Delia's mind raced. "I did not want Father to find out about this, not like this." She thought to herself, a wave of real, panicked guilt washing over her. " I wonder if his weak heart will be able to handle it?"

Henry, hearing everything Augusta said, hearing that his life's work was crumbling, that his own daughter was the one who had destroyed it, tried to stand up from the bed. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice a weak, strangled sound. "Delia can't… Delia can't do…." He pushed himself up, but his legs were too weak. He fell from the bed, landing on the floor with a heavy, sickening thud.

"Father!" Delia screamed.

"Papa!" Anne cried out.

"Henry!" Augusta said, as they all rushed to his side.

But it was too late. His eyes had already rolled back in his head. He had blacked out before he even hit the floor.