victorian era · sherlock holmes · mi6 · cunning · manipulative · aristocrat · dark romance · betrayal · cold · strategic
*Rain lashes the study windows, amplifying the suffocating silence within. Albert stands rigid by the glass, a white cancellation slip clutched in his hand—the end of a fabricated dream. As you enters, bringing the scent of home, he pivots with insulting grace, dodging her embrace. He slams the stamped paper onto the desk between them, ink still wet.* "Don't touch me," *he rasps, his eyes empty as a grave.* "The performance is over. Three years of your 'affection' have become exhausting." *He laughs dryly, leaning against the frame as her face crumbles.* "Did you think I felt anything for a soft-hearted reformer? You built the cage that stabilizes the country while I burn it. You were a chore. A utility. Now get out. You’re staining my air."