CHAPTER 93……………………………
At first, Lloyd seemed to have quite a lot of expectations for Ayla.
The reason he had chosen her from the orphanage in the first place was because she was the smartest among the children.
Though he told Ayla she didn’t have to work so hard, the expectation in his eyes was impossible to hide.
So Ayla worked hard to meet those expectations.
But after he found out what the tutor and the maid had done, it became clear that all he wished for was Ayla’s health and happiness.
“…Dad never made me do anything I said I didn’t want to.”
After that, Lloyd never made her study again.
He was glad when she said she had played all day.
The more childlike she acted, the happier he seemed.
There was something beyond satisfaction in his expression.
Ayla thought that was love.
She had spoken with courage, but Priscilla easily crushed Ayla’s words.
“That’s why you’re soft. If you hadn’t been more talented than the others, you would have fallen behind long ago.”
It was like talking to a wall.
Even though Ayla was still young—no, because she was young—she could see it.
Every time Lloyd looked at Priscilla, he wore the face of someone expecting to be killed.
A grown man, terrified of an old woman.
Priscilla’s “love” was twisted beyond repair—it wasn’t love at all.
It was pure control.
Ayla’s small fists tightened.
“Dad doesn’t look happy when he’s with you, Grandma. But I’m happy when I’m with him.”
“…”
“Grandma… were you ever happy in your life?”
Happy?
Priscilla let out a scoff.
Happiness—what a naïve word.
‘She’s five years old, wasn’t it?’
If that was the case, such foolishness could be forgiven.
All she needed was to be taught the truth—starting today.
Priscilla spoke to her in a kindly, instructive tone.
“Happiness comes naturally when you hold power and have ability. It’s not something that appears when you do what you want.”
“But Dad doesn’t seem that way.”
“That’s because he lacks ability.”
To Priscilla, Lloyd was a useless son.
So of course he wasn’t happy.
Ayla’s face darkened as she understood the hidden meaning.
But Miss Minerva said everyone has the right to be happy…
That was why Ayla had allowed herself to be happy, even when she thought she wasn’t good enough.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason she could be happy.
Ayla opened her mouth to correct Priscilla’s misunderstanding.
“Um… back in the Mente territory, I was hit by my tutor.”
“I heard about that.”
“I was hit a lot at the orphanage too. I didn’t think much of it then—it was that kind of place. But when I was hit at home… I couldn’t say anything.”
For a year, she’d lived safely, away from violence.
Then, suddenly being hit again made her mind go blank.
Usually, obeying adults kept her from being punished—but even Lloyd and Deborah said different things, and that confused her.
“I still have dreams about it. Dreams where everyone’s shouting different orders, and when I don’t follow them, they hit me. And no one helps me.”
She never told Lloyd.
He’d just worry.
But there was a reason she was telling Priscilla.
“I was lucky—Dad and Mom helped me right away. But Dad didn’t have anyone. For a long time, people ignored his pain.”
Even if the dreams were scary, her warm reality comforted her.
But Lloyd’s reality wasn’t like that.
From birth until now, he’d been trapped by Priscilla.
He was still living that nightmare.
“Dad isn’t unhappy because he lacks ability. He’s unhappy because you keep appearing in his memories and tormenting him.”
The smile vanished from Priscilla’s lips.
Her eyes turned cold.
The sudden shift in atmosphere made Ayla tense up.
It was frightening—but not entirely bad. At least Priscilla had heard her.
Thinking she might listen if she tried just a bit harder, Ayla squeezed out the last of her courage.
“Just like Dad wants me to be happy, I want the same for him. So I wish, Grandma, that you would sincerely apologize to Dad.”
“…”
Priscilla didn’t answer.
She simply blinked slowly, staring at Ayla as though she were boring holes into her.
Her tightly closed lips parted at last, releasing a low voice.
“Apologize…?”
Ayla’s eyes followed Priscilla’s toes as her shoe tip twitched.
It wasn’t a light movement, and Ayla swallowed hard before nodding.
“Yes.”
“Do you even know what apology means?”
“It means to repent for a wrong and ask for forgiveness.”
“Good. You do know.”
A fleeting smile crossed Priscilla’s face.
But it wasn’t the warm kind of smile from earlier—it was sharp.
“Then tell me—why should I apologize to Lloyd?”
Faced with her mocking tone and overbearing confidence, Ayla faltered—but managed to reply calmly.
“B-because… because you did something wrong to him.”
“Wrong?”
Priscilla laughed again.
She shook her head, chuckling as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard.
Then suddenly, the laughter stopped.
A bad feeling crawled up Ayla’s spine as Priscilla tilted her chin up and glared down at her.
“I praised you for being pretty, and now you’ve started climbing over me, haven’t you?”
“That’s not it, I just—”
It wasn’t defiance.
Ayla shook her head quickly, but Priscilla didn’t care. She lit the tobacco in her pipe, which she’d been holding back until now.
“Fff…”
“Cough! Cough!”
The harsh smoke stung Ayla’s nose, making her cough instinctively.
But Priscilla inhaled several more puffs without a care.
Ayla hurriedly pulled out her handkerchief and covered her nose.
After exhaling a long plume of smoke, Priscilla glared down at her with contempt.
“A lowborn orphan dares to speak to me that way. You don’t know your place.”
Orphan.
Ayla’s tear-filled eyes widened at that word.
She dropped her handkerchief and, furious, shot back at Priscilla.
“You’re an orphan too, Grandma.”
“What?”
“Lady Priscilla, you don’t have parents anymore either. Doesn’t that make you an orphan? And why am I an orphan? I have a mom and dad.”
Ayla didn’t even know where that courage came from.
Her words, thrown recklessly like she had no tomorrow, hit harder than expected.
Priscilla—who prided herself on never losing composure—was visibly shaken.
Even with her hollow title as a duchess, she had always been feared, respected, untouchable.
No one had ever dared to mention her parents.
But now—
“Did you just… call me an orphan?”
The pipe slipped from her trembling hand.
Her fingers shook uncontrollably.
Ayla delivered the final blow.
“Yes. When someone’s parents die young, they’re called an orphan, right? So that means you are one too, Grandma.”
Priscilla finally lost control and shot to her feet.
“How dare you wag that tongue of yours before me!”
Her voice was thunderous—unbelievably loud for an old woman.
But Ayla didn’t flinch.
She wasn’t done returning the pain and humiliation Lloyd had endured.
“Why say things that would make you angry if someone said them to you?”
“Are you not afraid of me? Even your father bows before me!”
“I never wanted to please you in the first place. If you won’t apologize to Dad, then please leave right now. You’re making him uncomfortable.”
“You insolent brat!”
Blood rushed to Priscilla’s head.
She grabbed a teacup and was about to hurl it at Ayla’s feet—
When—
“What do you think you’re doing!”
“D-Dad?”
The door burst open, and Lloyd stormed in, placing himself between them.
