Even if I tried to buy his silence with gold, he could easily turn around and use the knowledge against me later. Besides, I knew Eric’s investigators were thorough; they would eventually uncover any trail I left behind.
I was left with two options.
I either needed someone whose identity was so obscure that no one could ever trace it, or someone I could trust implicitly—someone who wouldn't crumble under Eric’s interrogation.
*Knock, knock.*
“It’s Sardin, my lady.”
The sound of his voice reminded me of the errand I had sent him on. I had been craving fresh peaches earlier—a sudden, irrational pregnancy symptom that had driven me near-mad—and I had sent him out to find them. Only after he left did I realize it was far from peach season.
“Come in.”
Sardin entered the room, his hands empty as I expected. He bowed deeply, his face etched with regret.
“My apologies, my lady. I was unable to find the peaches you requested.”
I shook my head, my voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s alright. I didn't truly expect you to find them this time of year.”
Normally, I would have snapped at him for his failure. But the sweet peach dessert I had enjoyed earlier had left me in a surprisingly forgiving mood.
“You did your best. That’s enough.”
Sardin looked up, his eyes widening slightly at my uncharacteristic softness. He quickly bowed again. “I will see that I am more thorough with your orders in the future.”
As I watched him—standing there like a loyal, steady guardian—a sudden flash of inspiration struck me.
“Sardin.”
“Yes, my lady?”
I moved closer to him, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “From now on, you will be the father of my child.”
It was the perfect solution to the problem that had been plaguing me. Sardin stood frozen for a moment, a deep flush creeping up his neck.
“I... I’m sorry, my lady, I must be misunderstanding. I’m only a slave, I don’t—”
“Why are you pretending to be slow?” I said, pressing the point. “I’m telling you to play the part. Tell the world that you are the father of the child in my womb.”
The color drained from his face as quickly as it had come. He stood rigid, his grey eyes wide. “How can you say such a thing? The child’s true father is alive and well.”
I let out a hollow laugh. I knew what he was thinking—that I was only trying to use him to get back at Eric.
“No, Eric doesn't care. He might have been the one to plant the seed, but he has no claim to the life inside me.”
If Eric had been honest from the start in my first life, I could have left him long ago. We wouldn't have been hunted. Damian wouldn't have died. But Eric had chosen to deceive me until the very end, and that choice had cost my son everything.
But I didn't need to share that with Sardin. Despite his loyalty in my past life, I found it difficult to trust anyone completely now. I had learned the hard way that showing vulnerability was only an invitation to be ignored or exploited.
*I have to be strong. I have to be the one in control.*
I masked my emotions, offering him a practiced, mocking smile. “I’ve simply grown tired of him, Sardin. That’s all.”
“Are you... are you serious?”
I could see the doubt in his eyes. To anyone who had known the old Cornelia, the idea of her falling out of love with the Duke was impossible. I had been so pathetically obsessed with him that it was a source of mockery in high society.
But that woman was dead. She had died in a forest on the border, chasing a sun that was nothing more than a cold, distant illusion. Every step I had taken toward Eric had only left me more scarred. I had thought he was my salvation, but he was only the fire that eventually consumed me.
“Yes,” I said, my voice dry and hollow. “I no longer have any affection for Eric Lennon Brant.”
The truth felt strange as it left my lips, but it was accompanied by a sense of liberation. My son was the only sun in my world now.
“I’m going to divorce him,” I continued. “But my father, the Emperor, won't allow a quiet separation. And Eric... Eric will never agree to a divorce that damages his pristine reputation. He’d rather keep me here until I rot.”
Sardin remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“So, I lied. I told him the child isn't his—that I’ve been unfaithful. Any 'normal' man would demand a divorce after hearing that. And when I thought of who could play the part of my lover... I thought of you. You're my subordinate, always by my side. He’ll find the story easy to believe.”
“This is madness, my lady! I am a slave. To claim such a thing would be a death sentence!”
I reached out and tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Yes, you are my slave. A loyal slave with a handsome face who does everything I ask. Why wouldn't I take you to my bed?”
His grey eyes trembled, his features tightening with shock. I felt a momentary pang of guilt. No matter how much I owned him, it was cruel to force such a role upon him.
*I won't actually make him do anything, of course.*
I had a conscience, however small. I didn't intend to truly ruin Sardin’s reputation or put his life at risk without a way out.
“Sardin, I’m not asking this of you out of a sense of duty or loyalty alone,” I said, softening my voice. “If the divorce goes through, I will give you your freedom. I’ll provide you with enough gold to start a new life anywhere you wish.”
I saw the change in his eyes then—a sudden, sharp focus. He had spent his life in chains, and I was offering him the one thing he had never dared to dream of.
“I will do it.”
I hadn't expected him to refuse, but the speed of his acceptance was a relief. *Good. Now I just need to deal with Eric.*
“However,” Sardin added, his voice low and steady. “I would like to discuss my compensation later.”
I nodded. “I will grant whatever is within my power.”
I spent the next few days waiting for Eric to return, but he was nowhere to be found. It wasn't unusual for him to ignore me for days on end, but given the bombshell I had dropped, I had expected some kind of reaction.
Tired of being cooped up in the palace, I decided to head out. I needed a change of scenery—some shopping and perhaps a show to clear my mind. As I left my chambers, I saw Randon, the butler, speaking with a messenger in the corridor.
“Yes, I will inform the Master of Lady Arguin’s wishes as soon as he returns,” Randon said.
He saw me walking toward him, but he didn't even acknowledge my presence. He simply looked past me, as if I were a headache he was waiting to pass. It was a familiar look, one I had lived with since the day I married the Duke. To the staff, I wasn't a Duchess; I was an unwanted guest, a woman despised by her husband and her mother-in-law alike.
In the past, I would have screamed at him, demanding he show me the respect my title deserved. But that had only earned me warnings from the Dowager. Eventually, I had learned to stay silent, accepting the routine of being ignored.
*It doesn't matter anymore,* I thought, stepping into my carriage with Sardin close behind.
***
Eric spent the afternoon at the Information Guild, personally overseeing the investigation into Cornelia’s alleged lover. But despite their best efforts, there was no record of a man named Damian ever crossing paths with the Duchess.
*It has to be a lie,* he told himself.
But it was too early to be certain. There were always gaps in the information—itinerant poets, wandering musicians, or low-level mercenaries who operated beneath the Guild's notice.
Eric clenched his fists as he recalled Cornelia’s voice in her sleep. She had whispered the name with such profound grief. It didn't sound like a lie.
He returned home, his mood sour. As he stepped onto the grounds, his eyes immediately went to the carriage house. The white carriage with the Brant crest—the one Cornelia used whenever she went out—was missing.
*She’s gone? Without telling anyone?*
The realization hit him with an unexpected sharp edge of frustration.