When I finally opened my eyes, my first thought was that I had somehow survived.
I wasn't in a prison or a mass grave. Instead, I found myself in the familiar, oppressive luxury of my marriage bedroom. It felt wrong, a jarring disconnect from the cold forest where I had breathed my last.
It wasn't until I saw a maid who had died in an accident five years ago that the truth finally settled in.
*I’ve gone back seven years.*
In this life, I would do anything to ensure a long, happy life for my son. But to do that, I had to sever the ties that had once bound me to my ruin.
“Cornelia.”
A sharp voice cut through my racing thoughts. Eric was staring at me, his expression clouded with irritation as if he had noticed my mind wandering.
“My apologies. What did you say?”
He sighed, his brow furrowing. “I said that we cannot discuss a divorce as long as we have a child to consider.”
I offered a small, bitter smile as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach. “Yes. There is a child here. The child of the only person I ever truly loved.”
I met his gaze directly, my voice unwavering. “But it isn't yours.”
“Not mine? I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I think you know exactly what I mean.”
In my past life, Eric had been the picture of a devoted father to Damian, at least in the eyes of the public. He was so hospital and caring that I had been blinded by the facade.
*But now I know who you really are.*
He was the man who had traded our lives for his own security. He was the one who had sent his hunters to track us down like animals. Even if he hadn't pulled the trigger himself, he was the architect of our son's death.
Eric’s formal veneer cracked, his voice turning fierce. “Cornelia Odile Brant, speak plainly.”
I could no longer look at this man, with his hidden, duplicitous nature, and see a father for my child. I didn't even want his name associated with the life growing inside me. But to get what I wanted, I had to use the truth as a weapon.
“I told you. You aren't the father. This child belongs to someone else.”
He had never mentioned divorce in my first life, likely due to the pressure from my father, the Emperor. If I simply tried to hide the pregnancy and leave, the Emperor would eventually find out and use the child to keep me under his thumb. Eric would never agree to a divorce that made him look like the villain.
I needed a mistake—a scandal so great that it would give him a reason to cast me aside without hesitation.
“You know as well as I do how unlikely it is to conceive from a single night,” I said, watching for his reaction.
I saw a flicker of agitation in his blue eyes. Before that one disastrous night, he had never even held my hand. It was a mistake born of grief and too much wine, a night where the woman he loathed had somehow ended up carrying his blood. I knew how much he must hate the reality of it.
So, I would give him the lie he so desperately wanted to be true.
*This is what you want, isn't it? A way out?*
A cold smirk touched my lips. “It’s been five years since you married me and then cast me aside. Is it so wrong to find a lover to stave off the loneliness? You never cared for me anyway...”
“Cornelia!”
“Don't raise your voice,” I snapped. “Whether it was a mistake or not, I have no intention of abandoning this child.”
It was an act, a calculated gamble, but it felt more honest than anything I had said in years. I was willing to risk everything for Damian’s sake.
Eric, however, looked genuinely stunned. “You speak of betrayal with such a respectful attitude.”
"Why wouldn't I? If I hadn't told you, you would have ended up playing father to another man's child. You should be thanking me for my honesty."
I knew I was being incredibly rude. In the past, if anyone had spoken to me this way, I would have slapped them without a second thought. But Eric simply stared at me, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
*Yes. This is why you’ve tolerated me all these years.*
He had always looked at me with that same simmering discomfort. He had been suppressing something for more than a decade, a hidden resentment that I had tried to ignore. I never understood why he stayed—not until I was stripped of everything.
"Isn't this for the best? You’ve always regretted this marriage. Now that I’ve given you a perfect excuse, shouldn't we just agree to a quiet divorce?"
“Enough.”
Disdain sparkled in his eyes. In my first life, I would have been terrified of that look. I would have lived in constant fear that he would leave me. But now, that fear was gone.
“Do you truly hate the sound of my voice that much? Divorce me, and you’ll never have to hear it again.”
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. How could he stay so still?
Finally, he broke the silence. “Who is the father?”
I stared at the high-ranking scoundrel before me. If I gave him a name, the divorce would become a bloodbath. I chose sarcasm instead.
"Why? Do you want to find him so you can thank him for taking me off your hands? Or are you planning some grand revenge for the sake of a pride you never had?"
I watched him rise from his seat, his movements tight. “This conversation is over.”
"Decide quickly, Eric. Before it's too late. It would be a shame if your precious reputation was ruined because you waited too long to cast off a straying wife."
He turned his back on me and walked away.
I watched him go, wondering what his next move would be. He was a man who prided himself on his composure, but today’s revelation had clearly pushed him beyond his limits.
*He can't divorce me immediately because of the Emperor, but no man can tolerate this forever.*
No matter how patient he was, he wouldn't be able to bear the thought of his wife carrying another man’s child—especially a wife he already despised.
In the past, that thought would have destroyed me. Now, it felt like my only salvation.
*The question is... does he believe me?*
If he didn't, I would have to find a way to make the lie indistinguishable from the truth.
I lay back on the sofa, gently stroking my stomach. It was still early, the life inside me too small to even be a bump, but for the first time, I felt like I wasn't alone.
*Damian, don't worry. Mama will protect you this time.*
I began to hum a soft lullaby, one I knew he had loved. I was exhausted, and I knew the life within me needed rest as well. I felt my eyes drifting shut.
***
Outside the room, Eric’s face contorted with a mixture of shock and rage.
*An affair?*
And not just with anyone, but from the woman who had spent years obsessively trailing after him. Her devotion had been so constant it was almost stifling.
*She’s trying to get my attention again. That has to be it.*
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. *But I need to know why she would go so far as to suggest a divorce.*
Randon approached him, bowing low. “Your Excellency, the maid, Anna, will be sent to the seminary tomorrow.”
Eric nodded. He had already dealt with the girl who had overheard Cornelia’s announcement. “Well done.”
Madeleine had also been silenced for now. As long as Cornelia didn't make a public scene, the secret was safe.
Returning to his office, Eric summoned a figure from the shadows. Janet, the only woman among his family’s elite knights, stepped forward.
“I want you to shadow the Duchess. Do not let her see you.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
“She claims to be pregnant. Ensure she is not disturbed, but report her every move to me immediately.”
When he was alone again, Eric found himself unable to focus. He eventually left his office and headed back toward the Duchess’s wing. He entered her room and found her asleep on the sofa.
*She is so incredibly selfish,* he thought, even as he reached for a blanket to cover her.
His movements were careful, almost tender, as if he were handling something fragile and precious. As he tucked the blanket around her, Cornelia’s lips parted, and she murmured a name.
“Dami... Damian...”
Eric froze. It was the first time he had ever heard her speak a name with such profound sadness and tenderness—and it wasn't his.
*Who the hell is he?*
The tendons in his neck strained as he gritted his teeth. *Could her words actually be true?*
A soft sound at the door interrupted his thoughts. The handle turned slowly.
*Who would dare enter without knocking?*
Eric turned away from Cornelia, his eyes narrowing as he faced the uninvited guest.
It was a handsome young man with gray-brown hair. He kept his head bowed, his manners as impeccable as any high-ranking gentleman. But on the back of his neck was a mark that set him apart: a slave tattoo.
The young man’s features were marked by the dark hair of the northern barbarians—a people looked down upon by the entire Empire.