“Please Make the Divorce Settlement 9,990,000 Gold” – Chapter 2
“But Cecile, you’re different. I finally feel like I’ve found true love. And you’re even giving me a child… Could there be a greater fortune in my life?”
“Arsen…”
“I love you, Cecile. Forever.”
The one he loved was another woman. He had never once given her—his actual wife—even a sliver of love or affection. If not for what had just happened, she would’ve ended up raising his illegitimate child born from an affair, used like a tool, and discarded.
Everything she believed in had shattered. Today, Yvonne de Fontaine’s world collapsed.
All she could think about was the day she met Arsen, introduced as her fiancé when they were children.
‘Nice to meet you, Lady Laurent. I’m Arsen de Fontaine.’
He was young, but his voice was clear and polite. Even though she was too young to understand marriage, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Had he thought this way from the beginning? Had it all been twisted from the start?
‘If we had even truly been friends… he wouldn’t have treated me like this.’
He said they were good friends—but that was just a selfish thought from his point of view. Who lets their “good friend” die?
How foolish and naïve she had been.
She didn’t even know how she got back to her room. Her head was spinning with everything she had to think about—her future, the pregnant mistress, the pile of state affairs—but nothing would register.
And then…
“Divorce…”
A word she had never dared consider, not even after all the suffering—suddenly rose in her mind for the first time in her life.
They could never be a real married couple. No—they never were. What had she gained from enduring all that time? Death.
Once she realized that, her chest burned with rage and injustice. Tears of regret and self-pity spilled from her eyes.
“Hngh… sob…”
Her sobbing turned to full-blown wailing. What had it all been for?
She cried until her voice was hoarse.
“Madam, are you alright? Please, have some tea.”
She didn’t know how much time had passed. The sun had already set.
With her face ruined from crying, Yve accepted the cup the maid offered and took a sip.
Maybe it was her mood, but the tea tasted especially bitter.
“Cough…!”
A bright red clump of blood spilled from her mouth. Horrified, Yve raised her head to look at the maid who had given her the tea.
It was her. The woman pregnant with her husband’s child—Cecilia.
“…Why…”
Cecilia opened her eyes wide with a cruel smile.
“Why, you ask? That indecisive Arsen still had no plans to divorce you. Of course, he wouldn’t—he needs House Laurent’s power. But I’m not like him. How long am I supposed to wait around, not knowing when you’ll finally die? I can’t anymore.”
“…”
Yve finally realized the terrifying ambition in this woman. Unable to wait, Cecilia had decided to take matters into her own hands and secure her position as duchess.
A blazing fury erupted in Yve’s chest. Her whole body was wrapped in seething rage.
Had she endured all that humiliation just to die like this? Had she suffered just so Arsen and that woman could be happy?
Words she had never spoken in her life burst from her lips, alongside droplets of blood.
“And you think you deserve to be duchess, when you’re nothing but a filthy mistress playing with someone else’s husband?”
“…What?”
“Even if I die—cough—you’ll never take this seat. Never! Hrk…!”
“Shut up! What do you know?! I—!”
Cecilia continued shouting something, but Yve could no longer hear her.
Her vision tilted, and she felt her head hit the floor. The pendant her parents gave her fell before her eyes, soaked in blood.
Ah… so this is how it ends. Not even getting a divorce, let alone revenge.
And so, Yve died—burning with resentment.
Or so she thought.
“Why am I still alive?”
The next morning, she woke up perfectly fine…?
‘Why? How? Didn’t I die?’
Even after having a full breakfast—which made no sense—Yve pondered deeply before turning to her personal maid.
“Emma, did… anything happen yesterday?”
“Happen? Not really.”
“Nothing strange at all?”
Emma blinked, puzzled, and shook her head.
“No, everything was as usual…”
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
Yve grabbed her hand.
“Emma. What about the burn on your hand?”
“Burn? What burn?”
“You spilled tea when I had a seizure—you burned yourself. It was there until yesterday…”
“What are you talking about?”
Emma looked truly confused. Yve paused, suddenly struck by an impossible possibility.
She fidgeted with the pendant around her neck, then carefully asked:
“Emma. What year is it right now?”
“It’s Year 5 of the Frije calendar.”
Year 5. Three years before her death.
Instead of dying, she had returned to the past.
Even so, she still couldn’t quite believe it. Just to be sure, she looked in the mirror.
The sickly pale skin and damaged hair were all gone—replaced by the glowing beauty she had before marriage.
And this wasn’t her annex. It was the main estate. After yesterday’s fight, Arsen would’ve never brought her back here. Which meant… this was before she’d been kicked out.
‘…It’s real. I’ve really come back.’
Whether it made sense or not didn’t matter. It was real.
‘I’ve regressed.’
Suddenly, the vivid memory of yesterday’s betrayal came rushing back.
Would all of that be erased now?
“Madam, are you alright?”
Snapped back to reality, Yve blinked. Though it was hard to believe, her death and regrets had been undone.
But one thing still remained—betrayal.
Her gaze fell on Emma’s clean, unburnt hands. In her last life, those hands had been injured—because of Yve, because of Arsen and his mistress.
‘No… not this time.’
Yve shook her head. This time wouldn’t be the same.
Now, she had a goal.
This was her chance.
‘My chance for revenge.’
A chance to destroy Arsen and Cecilia—what she couldn’t do in her last life.
Perhaps the gods pitied her miserable past life. And if so, there was no reason not to take advantage of it.
She would no longer be the foolish, obedient woman she was before. She would reclaim who she was before Arsen ruined her. And she would destroy him and Cecilia—utterly.
Clutching her pendant, her eyes blazed with resolve.
Once she sent Emma away, she began planning. Her advantage? She knew nearly everything that would happen for the next three years.
She hadn’t expected that managing all the duke’s affairs herself would come in handy like this. She gave a bitter smile.
Plus, there would be plenty of opportunities to remove Cecilia. With her current mindset, dealing with one mistress was nothing. She might even stop her from becoming a mistress in the first place.
For now, she’d start with a small but painful revenge on Arsen.
“Isn’t Bishop Benedict visiting today?”
The bishop was in charge of the duchy’s diocese and highly respected. The Duke’s family had worked hard to gain his favor—especially because they profited from the wine trade.
‘It’ll be quite fun if I ruin that relationship.’
She had no reason to help House Fontaine anymore. In fact, she ought to be praying for its downfall.
Yve got up and called for the head maid.
At this point in time, she hadn’t yet been kicked out and still retained some authority as duchess.
It was only after Arsen met Cecilia that everything changed. Now, Yve finally knew who had been pulling Arsen’s strings all along.
‘Cecilia. I won’t let you off.’
Just thinking about that wicked woman made her tremble with rage.
When the head maid arrived, Yve said:
“Claire, I have an important task for you.”
“Yes, my lady. Please instruct me.”
“Can you serve silver cod as the main dish at today’s dinner with Bishop Benedict?”
Claire looked confused.
“Silver cod? But… that’s…”
“Oh, I know. Arsen can’t eat silver cod. But as you know, the bishop loves it.”
Claire hesitated, so Yve added:
“I heard the Marquis of Alain served an excellent silver cod dish and the bishop was quite pleased. We can’t fall behind, can we?”
“Well… that’s true. But are you sure, my lady?”
Knowing how picky Arsen was, Claire asked worriedly. Yve, suppressing her disgust, smiled gently.
“Fortunately, Arsen agreed to let it go this time. Isn’t he sweet? That’s why… I plan to treat him so well. Until the day he dies.”
Yve’s crooked smile had sharp teeth behind it. But the maid believed her without suspicion—Yve’s supposed love for her philandering husband was well-known among the staff.
Of course, Yve was planning to completely humiliate him.
Bishop Benedict was kind and virtuous—but he hated seeing food go to waste.
Arsen, however, had gotten food poisoning from silver cod once, and now refused to eat it. So Yve had always racked her brain trying to please the bishop with other dishes.
What was Arsen doing back then?
Cheating, obviously.
‘Bastard.’
Yve clenched her fist. Why had she lived in ignorance for so long?
No—she had chosen not to see it.
But not this time. She wouldn’t let herself be treated like a tool again and die unjustly.
‘This is just the beginning, Arsen.’
She could hardly wait to see the look on his face when he saw the cod.
Later that evening—
Dinner time arrived. Yve watched Arsen carefully as he stared at the silver cod.
He looked calm on the outside, but she knew he was panicking inside. Her lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
‘Let’s see if you can eat it.’
Finally, Arsen cut into the cod and brought a piece to his lips.
He chewed, swallowed… and then—
“This silver cod is excellent.”
He smiled.
Wait… what?!
