~Chapter 14~
– I am your daughter.
– You’re the daughter who left through marriage. And you married the son of a slave-born knight, no less.
…!
Rachel’s eyes widened in shock. After all, it had been her parents’ and her family’s wish that she marry Paris.
And now, after all this…
The marquess looked at her with open contempt.
– This was your fault from the start. If there was a problem with your husband, you should have noticed sooner. You brought this on yourself.
The words of blame struck her ears like a slap.
– …So you’re just going to abandon me? If I become useless, will you cast off my younger sibling the same way?
As she wept, dazed, her father pronounced his sentence coldly.
– That child is the heir. Illya would never end up like this. Even now, she’s making the right choices—she didn’t even come here, since she wants nothing to do with you.
– …!
– And don’t call her your sister. The daughter-in-law of a slave-born knight has no right to call the heir her sibling.
Exactly so.
At that, her mother, who had come closer, quietly agreed.
Rachel hadn’t noticed her mother’s face behind her fan. But up close, it was twisted with more contempt than ever before.
– You are no longer my daughter.
…!
– Don’t shame our family any further. Just leave quietly. That’s the last thing you can do for us as someone who was once an Ingrave.
Her mother’s fan tapped her head before moving away. Her parents left for the Valencia house, and Rachel—abandoned by the Ingrave family—was dragged away and locked up.
Her new room was little better than a prison, with a palm-sized window just below the ceiling. She would stay there until the trial ended and all the fugitives were rounded up.
“Can’t you hear me, Rachel!”
The Marquess’s shout brought Rachel back from her memories. She lowered her eyes with effort.
She felt suffocated. With trembling hands, she took the teacup Becky had set down beside her.
Warmth spread from her fingertips.
At last, she felt her head clear a little.
“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment. What did you say?”
“Hmph!”
Her father gave a displeased cough and continued.
“I asked if you knew anything. You were summoned by the Duke of Valencia recently, weren’t you? And you haven’t even been making proper wedding preparations.”
The Marquess’s eyes sharpened.
“Don’t forget, you’re the eldest daughter of Ingrave. My daughter. No matter what you’re told to keep quiet, you must report to me. If something happens, who do you think is truly on your side, if not your family? Hmm?”
“….”
“Rachel?”
“…That’s true.”
At least, up until a certain point.
But the moment that line was crossed, Rachel knew they would throw her away without hesitation—just as before. Even if they called Illya their child now, it would be no different.
Back then, when she was sentenced to confinement in the throne room, her parents had not even attended. The only one who had bothered to come was Illya, her younger sister, but even she had just stood there, blankly, doing and saying nothing.
That was the last time.
Illya must have been about eighteen then.
“….”
Rachel’s gaze drifted silently to the window.
By now, the sun was high in the sky. She watched as the manor’s gates slowly opened.
A group entered, and as she recognized their banner, a shout flew at her from across the room.
“Rachel! Are you really going to act this way?”
“What are you doing? Why don’t you tell your father what’s happening?”
Even her mother joined in, unable to restrain herself. Glancing at her parents, Rachel wet her lips with tea and spoke.
“I investigated Paris. You always said I had to marry him, but I thought I should at least know who my fiancé really was.”
“…!”
“So, what then?”
With her parents holding their breath, Rachel began to recount everything.
“While investigating, I learned of the Duchess’s fraudulent marriage. As I gathered evidence, I discovered that the Duke’s former fiancée had given birth to his true son.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. I reported it to the Duke. That was about ten days ago. Remember when I fainted?”
The Marquess’s wife, eyes wide, stammered,
“Then, the reason you collapsed was—because you learned all that…?”
“Yes. The Duke asked me to keep quiet for a while. He said he’d verify everything, conduct a blood test, inform His Majesty, and that the engagement would be broken off at Valencia’s fault—so I just had to wait.”
With a loud bang, the Marquess slammed his hand on the table and stood, pointing at her.
“Even so! You should have told me as soon as you found out!”
“Would you have believed me if I had?”
“…!”
Of course not.
Rachel knew her parents well. Even if she’d shown them the old journal, they would have called it nonsense and told her to behave and go through with the marriage.
Or they might have tried to make a deal with the Valencias or the Sabarnio family.
In any case, with less than a month to her wedding to Paris Valencia, none of those options would have been good for her.
“That’s why I went to the Valencia house. The Duke believed me and, after verifying everything, even thanked me.”
The Marquess, red and blue with anger, ground out his reply.
“…Even so, you should have told your father. I am your father, and you are an Ingrave.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better next time.”
“….”
She bowed her head as if nothing was wrong, and for a moment both her parents seemed at a loss.
‘Was Rachel always like this?’
Somehow, their daughter felt very different than before.
Her emotionless blue eyes drifted back to the window. Rachel spoke again.
“Why don’t you ask the envoy from the Valencia family the rest? I haven’t even washed yet, so I’d like to excuse myself.”
Knock, knock—
Just then, a knock came, right on cue. Rachel spoke calmly.
“Come in.”
“Excuse me. My lord, my lady, young miss.”
The butler entered with a respectful bow.
“The Valencia envoy has arrived. They wish to see you all.”
Her parents’ dazed eyes turned to Rachel. Setting down her cold teacup, Rachel stood.
“I’ll get ready and come down. The two of you should go ahead.”
“….”
“Surely you don’t mean to go like this?”
Rachel spread her arms. Pressed by their questions, she’d only thrown on a robe over her nightgown.
“…Wash up and come down when you’re ready. We’ll handle things for now.”
“Yes, understood.”
Rachel bowed her head lightly and turned toward the bathroom. Becky followed close behind.
“…Let’s go meet the envoy first.”
With a quick splash of cold water, the Marquess turned away. His wife hurried after him. For now, the subtle sense of wrongness was swallowed up by the sudden arrival of a far bigger crisis.
It was only after some time that Rachel made her way down to the parlor.
Her hair, fragrant with flowers, gleamed in the sunlight like platinum.
Unlike the morning, she was now properly dressed in a refined gown, soft shoes, and small, finely-crafted sapphire earrings and necklace—her face looked livelier than usual.
The knights of both houses stood in the hall. The butler at the door bowed.
“You’re here, my lady.”
“Announce me, please.”
Knock, knock—
The butler rapped politely on the door.
