Richard Mayerhaus gazed at his far more beautiful and dazzling wife. In his dark, cold eyes, a rare tinge of sorrow flickered, fleeting yet unmistakable—like a statue forged of steel momentarily imbued with emotion. He sighed softly, "You should have given me a son... Your courage and resolve should forge strong men."
Claire Mayerhaus's motions stalled briefly; her delicate nose twitched slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.
Mrs. Mayerhaus turned away, efficiently straightening her attire, and gracefully made her way to the door. "It's time. Don't keep the representatives and envoys of the Alliance waiting."
As Mrs. Mayerhaus's slender fingers touched the door handle, a calm voice came from behind. "My love, even if we are fated to fall into Hell, we shall go together."
Claire Mayerhaus stood by the door, her head slightly turned, offering her husband a flawless profile. She gave a faint nod. Then, she pushed the door open and stepped out of the dressing room.
