“Chance? What chance?”
I looked at Reinhardt, my brow furrowing in confusion. He only offered a enigmatic smile.
“The chance to see you again, Your Highness. And perhaps, when we do, I’ll hear some good news.”
*Good news?* I wondered if he was referring to the pregnancy. The thought that he might already know made a cold shiver run down my spine.
“Stop talking nonsense and go,” I snapped.
“As you wish. I’ll return soon with those peach trees, Cornelia.”
As Reinhardt’s carriage pulled away, I turned to Eric, my voice a flat monotone. “I’m returning to my chambers.”
“Not yet,” Eric said, his voice heavy. “We have matters to discuss. The mine, for one.”
I let out an audible sigh of irritation. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”
He extended his arm, offering to escort me into the house. In the past, I would have practically tripped over myself to take it. Now, I simply walked past him, my hands clasped firmly in front of me.
“There’s no need for that,” I said.
I didn't look back to see his expression, but the act of rejection felt surprisingly refreshing.
***
As I entered the Brant estate, the atmosphere was markedly different.
“Welcome back, my lady,” Randon said, offering a deep, fawning bow.
He’d been demoted to a mere servant, but seeing Eric personally escort me out that morning must have convinced him that a reconciliation was underway. He was clearly desperate to claw his way back into his position as butler.
He wasn't the only one. The other servants and maids, who usually treated me like a nuisance, were suddenly lined up in the hall, their heads bowed in unison. I ignored them all, walking straight toward Eric’s office. I had no intention of staying in this house long enough for their "loyalty" to matter.
I entered the office and took a seat, making no effort to hide my exhaustion. “Make it quick. I’m tired.”
“It will only take a moment,” Eric said, settling behind his desk. “I’ve asked Zenon to bring the transfer documents.”
*Enduring a private meeting with this man is exhausting enough. Now I have to deal with him, too?*
A few minutes later, there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Your Excellency, I have the papers you requested.”
I felt my fingers curl into fists the moment the door opened.
**Zenon Reiner.**
Eric’s administrative assistant stepped into the room, a stack of documents held firmly in his hands. When his gaze met mine, he offered a shallow, professional bow, but his eyes... his eyes were as cold as a mountain lake.
He was Eric’s most loyal shadow. In my past life, he was the one who had cornered me in that forest. He was the one who had looked at my son with a look of pure, clinical indifference before ordering his men to finish us.
I watched him now, struggling to keep my breathing steady. Even if he was only following orders, the hatred in his gaze was palpable. He didn't look at me like the lady of the house; he looked at me like a problem that needed to be solved. An enemy of his master.
“I’ll leave you to your business,” Zenon said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He turned and exited the room, the door clicking shut with a finality that made me shiver.
*I have to be careful of him,* I thought. *He’s the one who will be truly dangerous if my plan fails.*
“Here,” Eric said, pushing the documents across the desk. “Review them.”
I scanned the pages, looking for any hidden traps. I searched for clauses like “this transfer is contingent on the marriage remaining intact,” but I found nothing. It was a straightforward, unconditional transfer of the jade mine.
I reached for the quill, ready to sign and secure the first piece of my future.
“Stay away from Reinhardt,” Eric said suddenly.
I froze, the quill hovering over the parchment. “What?”
“I’m telling you to stay as far away from Duke Tarrant as possible.”
“And why should I do that?” I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm. “He’s been far more welcoming than my own husband today. He’s even bringing me a gift.”
Eric let out a long, weary sigh. “I’m only saying this because I’m worried about you, Cornelia.”
*Worried?*
The word was so absurd coming from his mouth that I almost laughed. The memory of his coldness, his years of neglect, and his constant rejection came rushing back.
“Don't be ridiculous,” I said, my voice rising. “Since when have you ever cared about me?”
I remembered how he used to wear gloves whenever he had to touch me. I remembered how he would flinch and pull away if I tried to reach for him when his hands were bare. He treated me like I was something diseased.
For five years, he had treated this marriage as a burden he’d been forced to carry. He didn't care if I was miserable or if the staff ignored me, as long as I didn't cause a scandal that reached the Emperor’s ears. He had spent years "managing" me, manipulating my environment until I became a hollowed-out version of myself.
*He’s not worried about me,* I realized. *He’s worried about his reputation. He’s worried about what people will say if his wife is seen with a rival noble.*
“You don't need to worry about my 'relationships,' Eric,” I said, the sarcasm sharp in my voice. “I’m quite capable of managing them myself.”
“Cornelia, listen to me. He may seem kind, but Reinhardt Tarrant is a dangerous man.”
I stared at him, the irony of the statement nearly overwhelming. *Dangerous?* In my past life, Reinhardt had never threatened me. He had been one of the few people who checked on me, who seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being even after I was exiled.
“You’re the dangerous one, Eric Lennon Brant,” I whispered, the truth finally spilling out. “You’re the one who will eventually send men to eliminate me so you can start a fresh life. You’re the one who will order the death of my child.”
Eric’s face twisted into a mask of confusion and anger. “What are you talking about? Eliminate you? I told you, I’m only trying to—”
“Tell the truth for once!” I shouted, standing up. “You’re just afraid I’ll cause a scandal with another man, aren't you? You’re afraid it will tarnish that pristine image you’ve worked so hard to build!”
“It’s not about my image!”
“Then what is it? Explain to me why I shouldn't meet with Reinhardt. Give me one good reason.”
Eric stared at me, his jaw set. A long, heavy silence filled the office. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “I can't tell you that.”
I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Of course you can't. Because there is no reason, other than your own possessiveness. You don't even consider me your wife, yet you want to control who I speak to?”
“I never said—”
“I heard you today,” I interrupted, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and grief. “In the garden. I heard you tell Madeleine: *'I do not consider that woman my wife. It is only for the eyes of the palace.'*”
Eric’s face went deathly pale.
The pride I had been clinging to suddenly felt like a lead weight. I’d been afraid to say those words, afraid of what it would mean if I finally acknowledged the truth. But now that they were out, I felt a strange, cold sense of peace.
“I know you don't want me,” I said. “So, I’ve decided I don't want you, either. I’m done being your 'front' for a marital relationship.”
I pushed the unsigned document back across the desk.
“Keep your mine. I don't want a pity gift from a man who finds me 'annoying.' And don't bother assigning me bodyguards anymore. If you want to monitor me, do it yourself, or don't do it at all.”
I turned and walked out of the office, the sound of the door slamming behind me the only punctuation to the end of our marriage.