Chapter 26
“It didn’t feel right to me, you know. No matter how rich or handsome a man is, if marrying him means never seeing my daughter again, I’d say no.”
“I can’t believe Count Overhan would do something like that. He looks so polite and proper, but what kind of man throws out his wife overnight? I thought he was a gentleman.”
“Do you really think that’s the only reason he did it? Maybe there’s something we don’t know.”
“Even if that’s true, a husband should talk things out at home. What does he think women are, to humiliate one like that?”
“Oh, enough. Don’t worry about someone else’s daughter—just take care of your own. Count Overhan’s probably looking for a new wife anyway.”
“I actually saw him earlier, flirting with Lady Hardin.”
“What? But I heard he was trying to reconcile with Lady Everchen.”
“That’s right, I heard the same! He went to see her and handed her a marriage registration form. How could he treat the woman who was once his wife like that?”
At that last comment, the noble ladies all made faces of disgust.
Their gazes turned toward Rickman, who was wandering the ballroom. Every look that landed on him carried open contempt.
Sensing the sudden chill, Rickman turned toward them—but the ladies quickly hid behind their fans and scattered.
***
At that moment, Rickman realized that the mood of the party had turned against him. Fury burned inside him.
What the hell is going on?!
The women looked at him like he was disgusting, and the men patted his shoulder with fake sympathy, saying he’d “gone a bit too far.”
They were all people Rickman looked down on—so every pitying look shattered his pride piece by piece.
These bastards! They sneak around with mistresses and courtesans every night, and they dare to judge me? I only disciplined a disobedient wife!
Grinding his teeth, Rickman scanned the ballroom with cold, angry eyes.
Then he saw her.
Agnès.
The woman who had spent the whole evening in Dylan’s arms like some sly fox was, for once, alone. She seemed to be looking for a place to rest.
A twisted smile spread across Rickman’s lips. Slowly, he began to follow her.
As he expected, Agnès entered one of the small rooms prepared for guests to rest in. Rickman quickened his pace, pushed her through the doorway, and slipped inside after her.
Startled, Agnès nearly stumbled but caught herself and spun around.
“Are you insane? What kind of rude behavior is this? Get out right now!”
“Why should I? If someone walks in and sees us like this, your precious fiancé will get the wrong idea—and that’ll be great for me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but His Grace isn’t the type to have dirty misunderstandings.”
“Shut up! Don’t defend that bastard in front of me.”
Now that they were alone, Rickman dropped his mask completely and revealed his violent side.
Agnès sighed and brushed her hair back.
“What did you come here to say? Have you finally decided to let Noah come to me?”
“Ha!”
Rickman let out a sharp, mocking laugh. He couldn’t believe the once-obedient Agnès was speaking to him like this. Or maybe it was because she didn’t need to obey him anymore.
His anger surged as he stepped closer, voice low and threatening.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I came here to tell you to stop your pathetic little schemes.”
“Schemes? What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been cozying up to the noblewomen and spreading false rumors!”
“False rumors? Which of my words were false? That you unfairly threw me out of the Overhan mansion? That you refused every one of my pleas to let me see Noah just once? Or that you suddenly came back waving a marriage document like you were doing me a favor? Every bit of that is true.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Despite his harsh tone, Agnès didn’t back down. She looked him straight in the eye.
Rickman glared at her for a long moment—then gave a crooked, bitter smile.
“If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to act.”
He shrugged lazily, like a man too dignified to get angry. That casual arrogance was his usual way of showing dominance.
“I’ll tell Noah the truth—that you’re not his real mother. Once he knows, he’ll stop crying to see you again. And since he won’t want you anymore, what could you possibly—”
Smack!
A sharp crack echoed through the room as Agnès slapped him hard across the face.
Rickman froze, more shocked than hurt.
Agnès? Hit me?
To him, it was unthinkable—like seeing a fish suddenly fly through the air.
Before he could recover, her voice burst out, trembling but fierce.
“Just once—just once in your life, can’t you think from Noah’s point of view?!”
“…”
“You’re so afraid of your pride being hurt, but you don’t care at all that knowing the truth would destroy that child! How can you call yourself his father?”
Only then did Rickman slowly turn his head back toward her. His blue eyes darkened, fury boiling beneath them.
“You—!”
He raised his hand to strike her, but Agnès didn’t even blink.
“Go ahead, try it. I’m about to become the Duchess of Basteron—Harkwitz.”
She was right.
Their power dynamic had completely changed.
Count Overhan’s small, barely profitable lands couldn’t compare to the vast estates granted to Duke Basteron by the royal family. The wealth and status gap between them was now unbridgeable.
Agnès never liked using money or power to intimidate others, but she knew that with Rickman, this was the only language he understood.
As he faltered, she pressed on, her golden eyes gleaming sharply.
“Rickman, you and I may have different ways, but we both care about Noah. So please—let him come to me. You know I love him and care for him deeply. Under my protection, and with an education from House Basteron, he’ll become exactly the kind of fine heir you want him to be. Isn’t that what you always said you wanted?”
Her voice was calm, sincere—full of affection, but never desperate.
“I’ll never burden Noah with your debts or interfere in his marriage. I’ll help him study hard and ensure his health improves. I’ll even host parties so he can meet other nobles and build connections. We can write all of this in a formal contract if you wish. The temple can even serve as witness, so you’ll have peace of mind. So please…”
“Noah is my son.”
Despite all her reasoning, Rickman was unshaken.
Agnès couldn’t understand his stubbornness. He, of all people, had always wanted Noah to grow up in the best possible environment.
“I’m not trying to take your son away,” she said. “I’m not asking to change his family name or make him a Basteron. When he’s grown—or whenever he wants—he can return to you. If that’s still too much, then at least until he learns to speak…”
“Shut up!”
Rickman swung his arm in fury. His hand grazed her cheek, leaving a shallow scratch.
Agnès didn’t cry out or recoil. She just closed her eyes for a brief second, then opened them again—her gaze sharp and fierce, like a hawk.
The sight made Rickman even angrier, but also strangely uneasy.
“You’re just like every other low-born woman—cheap and calculating. I really misjudged you! What do you expect to gain by giving my son to that Duke?”
“I know you just want to insult me,” Agnès replied coldly. “But let me correct your foolish assumptions. If I truly wanted something from the Duke, I would’ve ignored Noah entirely and gone to him alone. Isn’t that obvious?”
Her calm, precise words felt like daggers to Rickman’s pride.
Every sentence stripped away his control, and rage filled his chest.
But Agnès didn’t stop.
“Even if I did that, you’d have no right to blame me. As you said, I didn’t give birth to Noah. But I still want to protect him, and that’s proof enough that I see him as my real son. So calm down, Rickman. Think rationally—like you always told me to.”
