Page 118 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

The Duke and Duchess of Winterhelm stood near the fireplace, both dressed in formal attire befitting their status. Valerian's expression was as severe as ever, but Genevieve's face lit up when she saw them.

"Oh, Caroline," Genevieve said warmly. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Carol said. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she stepped forward. "Before we go out there, I need to say something. To both of you."

Valerian's eyebrows rose slightly. Genevieve looked curious but encouraging.

Carol took a breath. "I owe you both an apology. For the past two months. For my behavior, my cruelty, my complete disregard for this family and everything you've done for me." She met their eyes directly. "I was terrible. To your son, to your staff, to everyone. And I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I can't undo the past, but I'm trying to do better now."

Silence fell.

Then Genevieve stepped forward and pulled Carol into an embrace.

"Oh, my dear girl," she said softly. "We can see how hard you're trying. And we're so proud of you for it."

Carol felt tears prick her eyes but blinked them back. Crying would ruin Daisy's careful work with her cosmetics.

When Genevieve released her, Valerian was studying Carol with an unreadable expression.

"You've changed," he said finally. "Significantly."

"I've tried to," Carol said.

"It shows," Valerian said. Then, to Carol's surprise, his stern expression softened slightly. "My son is fortunate to have you. And I'm glad you're making him happy."

Carol felt warmth bloom in her chest. Coming from the cold Duke Winterhelm, that was high praise indeed.

"We should go," Caspian said quietly, his hand finding Carol's. "The guests are assembled."

Together, the four of them made their way to the great hall.

◆◆◆

The herald's voice rang out clear and strong as the massive doors opened.

"His Grace, Caspian Vanthorn, Duke of Vanthorn, and Her Grace, Caroline Vanthorn, Duchess of Vanthorn! May all present join in celebration of their blessed union!"

Carol and Caspian stepped through the doors together.

The great hall had been completely transformed.

Rich tapestries in deep reds and golds hung along the walls, warming the austere stone. Lanterns and candles created pools of golden light throughout the space. Fresh flowers adorned every available surface. The long tables were set with fine linens, gleaming silverware, and crystal glasses that caught the candlelight.

And filling the hall were eighty guests—northern nobles and their families, all dressed in their finest, all turning to watch as Carol and Caspian entered.

The scrutiny was immediate and intense.

Carol felt every eye on her, assessing, judging, comparing her to the terrible person she'd been before.

But she lifted her chin and walked beside Caspian with as much grace as she could muster.

They processed to the head table where Valerian and Genevieve were already seated. Caspian held Carol's chair for her, and she sat with careful dignity.

The herald announced the other guests, and people took their seats according to rank and protocol that Sterling had arranged so meticulously.

Carol scanned the crowd, looking for potential threats.

Her game interface helpfully highlighted several young ladies with glowing markers.