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Her husband, Lyuzen, died at the hands of their son?

It was inconceivable.

She shook her head, refusing to accept the reality that had been thrust upon her.

No, Lyuzen couldn't die like that.

He was strong, powerful—nothing like their foolish, weak son Lyerin.

Lina's thoughts twisted in a tangled mess of denial and contempt.

Lyerin was nothing to her, just a shadow of the offspring she had truly loved.

He was the disgrace of the family, the one without a Shadow Core, the mark of true power within the Borgias lineage.

That deficiency alone had planted the seeds of hatred in Lina's heart from the moment she had given birth to him.

She had wanted to love him, to see in him the potential that was expected of a Borgias, but every day he failed to manifest that elusive Shadow Core, her love had turned to bitterness.

It wasn't just the lack of power that caused her to despise him.

Her other children, the ones who bore the Shadow Core, had flourished under Lyuzen's attention.

They were strong, capable, worthy of the Borgias name.

In comparison, Lyerin was an anomaly, a mistake. And his very existence had driven a wedge between her and Lyuzen, a wedge that deepened with each passing year.

Lyuzen had turned away from her, just as he had from the others who bore him lesser children.

He had sought other women, other wives, leaving Lina to languish in a position that felt more like a burden than the honor it was supposed to be.

Lina hated Lyerin for that too—for being the cause of her isolation within the family.

If only he had been born with a Shadow Core, things would have been different.

She would have been Lyuzen's favorite, her children the pride of the Borgias clan.

Instead, Lyuzen had drifted, and Lina had found herself pushed further and further to the sidelines, surrounded by other women who had borne Lyuzen the kind of children he truly valued.

She had avoided Lyerin for years, unable to bear the sight of the boy who represented all her failures and disappointments.

It had taken the family's insistence that she return to him, to gather the coreless offspring for some military project, to force her back into Lyerin's life. But even then, she had done so with reluctance, with a heart filled with disdain.

And yet, when she had returned to him, Lyerin had fawned over her, seeking the affection and attention she had withheld for so long.

He had been so desperate for her love, and it had amused her to see how easily she could manipulate him with a few kind words, a few gentle touches.

It had become a game, a way to pass the time and alleviate the boredom that had consumed her life.

Lyerin was nothing more than a tool, a means to an end, and she had played her role as the loving mother with expert precision.

But last night… last night had shattered that illusion.

Lyuzen's anger had been terrifying, a force of nature that she had never seen directed at her before.

His words had cut through her like a knife—Lyerin had killed him, assassinated him in cold blood.

Lina had tried to dismiss it as a dream, a figment of her imagination, but Lyuzen had been so insistent, so furious. And when he had threatened to abandon her, to leave her to the mercy of the family without his protection, she had been consumed by panic.

She had begged him, pleaded with him to reconsider, her heart breaking at the thought of losing him forever.

Lyuzen had been the center of her world, the only one who had mattered.

She had endured so much for him, sacrificed everything to be with him, to bear him children. ɓ-гоцԌн%т*-@ҭ#օ*-@уөυ%-&в-у#-@

The thought of losing him was unbearable.

But then, in the midst of her despair, someone had called, and Lyuzen had calmed. He had given her a task, a way to redeem herself in his eyes.

She was to do something about Lyerin.

It was the only way to regain his favor, to prove that she was still loyal, still worthy of his love.

Lina nodded, confident that she could handle Lyerin.

He was so easy to manipulate, so desperate for her approval. All she had to do was play the part of the loving mother, and he would do whatever she asked.

It was a role she had perfected over the years, a mask she could wear without a second thought.

And so, when Lyerin came to her now, asking her to come with him, she slipped into that familiar role with ease.

Her expression softened, and she allowed herself to look at him with what appeared to be affection.

"Is that you, my son? Lyerin?" she asked, her voice warm and tender.

Lyerin, caught off guard by her sudden change in demeanor, swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, mother. It's me."

Lina smiled, a soft, almost loving smile that masked the contempt she truly felt. She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, her touch gentle, almost maternal.

"I'm so glad to see you, my dear. How have you been? Have you been well?"

Lyerin's eyes softened, the vulnerability she knew so well shining through. "I've been… surviving, mother. It's been hard, but I'm managing."

"Surviving? Oh, my poor boy," Lina said, her tone laced with false concern. She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch light and affectionate. "You must have gone through so much. Tell me everything. I want to know how you've been, what you've been doing."

Lyerin hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to trust her sudden show of affection. But then, his need for her approval, for her love, won out, and he began to speak.

He told her of the struggles he had faced, the dangers he had encountered, and how he had survived on his own for so long.

He spoke of the loneliness, the fear, the constant battle to stay alive in a world that had become increasingly hostile.

As he spoke, Lina listened with rapt attention, nodding sympathetically, making small noises of understanding and encouragement.

She kept her expression soft, her eyes filled with a warmth that belied the coldness in her heart. Inwardly, she marveled at how easily he fell into the trap, how readily he opened up to her, despite all the years of neglect and hatred.

"You've been so brave, Lyerin," she said softly when he had finished. "I'm so proud of you."

The words were like a balm to Lyerin's wounded soul. He looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and longing, the desperate need for her approval shining in his eyes. "Thank you, mother," he whispered.

Lina smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace.

It was a calculated move, designed to reinforce the illusion of maternal love.

She could feel the tension in his body ease as he relaxed into her embrace, she knew that the last of his defenses was crumbling away.

But as she held him, her mind was elsewhere. Lyuzen's words echoed in her thoughts, reminding her of the task she had been given.

She needed to deal with Lyerin, to prove her loyalty to Lyuzen, even if it meant betraying the son she had never truly loved.

Lina pulled back slightly, looking into Lyerin's eyes. "We'll be together soon, my son," she said softly. "But first, I need to gather a few important things before we go. Will you wait here for me?"

Lyerin nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and longing. "Of course, mother. I'll wait for you."

"Good boy," Lina said, giving him one last, affectionate smile.

She turned and left the room, her heart cold and calculating as she prepared to carry out the plan that would secure her future with Lyuzen.

As she walked away, Lina couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

Lyerin was so easy to manipulate, so eager to believe in the lie she had woven for him.

He was nothing but a pawn, a tool to be used and discarded when he was no longer useful. And soon, she would be free of him, free to live the life she had always wanted, with the man she loved.