I stared at his hand, my expression blank.
*Take his hand?*
A small, cynical smile touched my lips as I looked at the leather-clad palm. *Are you wearing gloves because you find the idea of touching my bare skin so distasteful?*
I ignored the gesture entirely, stepping down from the carriage on my own. As I landed, I felt the eyes of the household staff on us. They were watching, as they always did, waiting for me to make a scene or for Eric to cast me aside.
I looked over at Sardin, who was still sitting in the driver's box beside the coachman.
“Sardin, take the—”
“Take all of the Duchess’s belongings to her chambers immediately,” Eric interrupted, his voice carrying the weight of an absolute command.
The servants, who had been treating me like an invisible specter only moments ago, sprang into action instantly. They followed his words with a fawning devotion they had never shown me. It was a stark, ugly reminder of where the power in this house truly lay.
Eric reached out as if to place a hand on my shoulder, but I reflexively slapped it away.
“Please return to your room,” he said, his voice tightening. “I have matters of urgency to discuss with you.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. *If I can just endure this one last confrontation, I might finally be free.*
***
Eric retreated to his office, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He hadn't intended to interrogate her immediately. He had been satisfied with the reports from Janet, the shadow escort he had assigned to follow her. But the moment he saw Cornelia stepping out of that carriage, his composure had shattered. His mind had overheated, driven by an impulse he couldn't control.
*I lost my temper... why did I let her get under my skin like that?*
As he was berating himself, a figure appeared at the window. It was Janet.
“Your Excellency, I have come to report.”
Eric wiped the frustration from his face, settling back into his mask of cold indifference. “Speak.”
“The Duchess first visited the jeweler. She purchased nearly twenty thousand gold worth of raw jade. Afterward, she went to the boutique and ordered several maternity gowns.”
Extravagance was nothing new for Cornelia; she had always used luxury as a shield. But the jade... that was strange.
“She bought jade?” Eric asked, tapping his fingers on the desk.
As an imperial princess, Cornelia usually looked down on anything that wasn't of the highest quality. She favored large, brilliant stones that caught the light—diamonds, rubies, rare sapphires. Raw jade was opaque, subtle, and relatively inexpensive.
*She wouldn't even look at it under normal circumstances. Why now?*
“And after the shopping?” Eric prompted.
Janet hesitated for a fraction of a second. “She stopped to watch a street performance.”
“A street performance?” Eric’s fingers stilled. He remembered the reports from the Information Guild.
“A blonde musician was playing a melody called 'Afternoon Siesta.' The Duchess stood in the street and watched him for a long time. She was... she was in tears, Your Grace. She didn't leave until the song ended.”
The mask of coldness Eric had spent years perfecting finally cracked. “She wept for a common street musician?”
His mind began to churn, weaving a tapestry of suspicion and betrayal. The "lover" she had mentioned—Damian. It all started to click into a singular, infuriating picture. Eric felt a surge of heat rising in his chest.
*I’ll see the truth for myself.*
He rose from his chair with such force it nearly toppled, ignoring Janet as he stormed out of the office and toward Cornelia’s wing.
***
I was waiting for the word "divorce" to fall from his lips. But when Eric burst into my room, the first thing he said was entirely unexpected.
“I didn't realize your tastes had become so... pedestrian.”
His eyes were fixed on the bag of raw jade sitting on my tea table. I moved to shield it from his gaze.
“I’ve found myself fond of green lately. It’s a calming color.”
“Then buy emeralds or fine peridots. Are you so short of funds that you have to settle for this?”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “I simply like it. It’s a stone that most people ignore, but if you look closely, you realize it has a beauty all its own.”
He stared at me, his eyes searching, as if trying to find the hidden meaning in my words.
“What do you want, Eric?” I asked, wanting to end the interrogation.
“I know what you're hiding,” he said, his voice dropping.
My heart skipped. *Does he know about the jade trade? Does he know I’m building an emergency fund?* I tried to keep my face a mask of confusion.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Damian.”
The name hit me like a physical blow. For a second, the world seemed to tilt. My mind went blank, my heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. It felt as if the very foundations of my rationality were crumbling.
*Damian. My son. The child he abandoned.*
“How... how do you know that name?” I whispered, the words barely escaping my throat.
Eric’s expression turned fierce, a look of triumph and disgust. “Do you really think you could keep him a secret from me?”
He looked so confident, so certain that he had caught me in a lie. I couldn't believe it. I stared at him, my breath hitching.
“You... you know who Damian is?”
“I do,” he said, his gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach.
My blood began to boil. *How dare he?* If he had regressed too, how could he even utter that name after what he did? I wanted to reach out and strangle him, to make him feel even a fraction of the agony our son had suffered. I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood.
*No. I have to protect the child. If I strike him now, he’ll only use it as an excuse to destroy us again.*
I lowered my head, struggling to swallow my rage.
“I wondered what kind of man could make you so obsessive,” Eric continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “But a street musician? A wandering poet? Is that the best you could find for an affair?”
My eyes widened in shock. I looked up at him, my anger momentarily replaced by pure bewilderment.
*A street musician? He thinks Damian is a lover?*
The absurdity of the misunderstanding was almost laughable. But then, I realized the opportunity it presented. If he was convinced that the father was some nameless, low-born musician, it would be even easier to get the divorce. He wouldn't even be able to find the man to verify the story.
Eric reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I reflexively pulled away.
“Admit it was your fault, Cornelia,” he said, his voice low and urgent.
“What?”
“Admit you made a mistake. Admit to the affair, and then... we will forget this happened. I will raise the child as my own. He will not be my heir, but he will have the Brant name.”
If this had been the old Cornelia, she might have been moved by the idea of him "forgiving" her. She would have seen it as a sign of his immense grace.
But I knew better.
*You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it for your reputation.*
If the truth of the affair came out, the public would mock me, yes. But eventually, the whispers would turn to him. People would wonder why the Great Duke Brant couldn't keep his wife's eyes from straying. They would speculate about his "deficiencies." He was willing to accept a "stain" like me just to keep his record clean.
I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Yes. It was a mistake.”
I saw the tension in his shoulders ease for a fraction of a second. “Then we agree. There will be no divorce, and—”
“I should have left you the moment I met Damian,” I interrupted, my voice clear and cold.
Eric’s eyes snapped back to mine.
I leaned in, a cruel smile on my lips. “I still think about him every day. I’m almost grateful for this marriage, because it was the misery of being your wife that drove me into his arms. Thank you for that, Eric.”
I was being honest, in a way. Damian was the result of a single, desperate night in my past life—a night born of the loneliness Eric had inflicted on me.
His face contorted with rage. “Stop.”
“Why? Does the truth hurt?” I pressed on, ignoring his warning. “I only knew him for a short time, but in those weeks, he showed me what true love looks like. He taught me that I didn't have to be perfect to be wanted.”
It was the truth. Damian’s love for me had been the only pure thing in my life. He didn't care about my reputation or my status. He just loved his mother.
“Meeting him wasn't a mistake. Unlike you, he was the only sun in my dark, miserable life. He is the person I love most in this world.”
Eric’s jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. He looked like he wanted to strike me, yet he remained perfectly still.
“I told you to stop,” he hissed.
“I have no intention of letting the child of a man I truly love grow up under the shadow of someone as heartless as you. So, give me the divorce.”
Eric stared at me for a long moment, his eyes burning with a dark, suppressed emotion. “You’ve clearly lost your mind. I’ll give you some time to regain your senses before we speak of this again.”
He turned and stormed out of the room before I could get another word in.
I watched him go, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. *How dare he act as if he's the one showing mercy?* He wanted to trap me in this hell all over again, all for the sake of his precious name.
*Not this time.*
If he wouldn't give me the divorce, I would have to take it.
“Sardin,” I called out.
“Yes, my lady?” Sardin stepped into the room, his expression one of concern.
“Prepare the carriage. I’m going to the Imperial Palace.”
“To the palace? But—”
I offered him a sharp, determined smile. “If my husband won't listen to reason, perhaps it’s time I reminded him who my father is.”