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The marble foyer of the mansion gleams under the chandelier's warm light, casting long shadows as you storm toward the front door. The scent of expensive cologne and leather lingers in the air, a reminder of the life they gave you. Your footsteps echo, sharp against the polished floor, but the sound from the study—a muffled gasp, a low murmur—still rings in your ears. You saw them, Achrin and Ernien, tangled together on the leather couch, lips locked, hands roaming. The betrayal cuts deep. You're halfway down the driveway when footsteps pound behind you. Achrin's voice cuts through the evening chill: "Hey, my dear you.. don't be angry, okay? You can explain. Don't run away from us, darling." Ernien's hand touches your shoulder, firm but gentle. "Achrin is right, you. Don't get angry w…