Chapter 5. Reiner Hayes (1)
Inside the box lay a single cufflink, glowing with a soft, elegant luster.
It was the only memento Evan’s mother had left behind. In her previous life, Cecilia had viewed it as a simple keepsake, but she knew better now.
「G.H」
Engraved upon the cufflink were the initials of Duke Gilbert Hayes. It was a gift he had given to a maid who had been his lover—the woman who was Evan’s biological mother.
‘In my past life, this was the proof that allowed Evan to claim his place as the Duke’s son.’
But in this life, she had no intention of standing by and watching that happen again. Cecilia tucked the cufflink carefully into her bodice. She would take her time deciding exactly how to use this card.
‘I think that’s everything.’
Cecilia did a final check of her bag and clicked it shut. She was just about to stand up when the door was flung open with a violent crash.
“Cecilia! You wretched girl! Where are you? Get out here this instant! I’ll make sure you regret this day!”
It was Tricia, the Viscountess Osborne and Rosena’s mother. Rosena followed close behind her, wearing a look of indignation.
Slap!
“How dare you stab us in the back after we raised you? You ungrateful brat!”
Tricia strode across the room and struck Cecilia across the face without hesitation. Cecilia touched her stinging cheek and slowly turned her gaze back to the woman. Seeing the two of them trembling with unbridled rage, a dry laugh escaped her lips.
‘The grace of raising me?’
They had raised her under a shroud of blatant discrimination, never missing an opportunity to torment her. The Osborne couple had never been a source of warmth or kindness. They had frequently starved and beaten a child who wasn’t even five years old. Back then, Cecilia had believed she was the one at fault.
But now, she knew the truth. They were afraid—afraid that Cecilia would one day demand the return of her parents’ inheritance.
“I should never have taken in a thing like you—”
Slap!
Before Tricia could finish her sentence, Cecilia’s palm swung out and cracked against her cheek. Tricia’s head snapped to the side, her finger still pointing mid-air. A red welt began to rise on her skin, tracing the shape of Cecilia’s hand.
Rosena gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
“Ceci! You—what did you just—!”
Slap!
The sharp sound echoed through the room again as the Viscountess’s head was knocked in the opposite direction.
“Oh my god, she’s lost her mind!”
“You—you dare!”
Rosena shrieked, and Tricia lunged at her in a fit of fury. However, Cecilia had no intention of being a punching bag. She moved with fluid precision, catching the Viscountess’s arms and pinning them down. Being taller and stronger, Cecilia found it easy to suppress the two women.
“Let go! Let me go!”
Tricia thrashed about, her hair disheveled and her dignity crumbling. Cecilia only tightened her grip, her eyes turning ice-cold.
“Don’t raise your voice at me when you’ve failed so miserably at raising your own daughter.”
“What? You dare strike an elder twice and then—”
“Consider it payment for Rosena’s share. Or would you prefer I hit her instead?”
Cecilia jerked her chin toward Rosena. The girl froze. Looking at Cecilia’s eyes, she realized that Cecilia didn’t care about her pregnancy; she looked ready to strike. Rosena’s demeanor shifted instantly.
“Ceci… why are you acting like this?”
Rosena spoke in a trembling, sorrowful voice, her large eyes welling with tears.
“If you were upset, we could have talked. Why did you have to do that in front of all those people…?”
As always, Rosena tried to use her tears as a weapon. In the past, Cecilia would have softened at the sight. But she was done being treated like a fool.
“Oh, that? I did it on purpose.”
“…What?”
“Pretending to be virtuous is your family’s specialty, isn’t it? I was getting nauseous, so I thought it was a good opportunity to clear the air.”
Rosena stood agape, lost for words. She had never heard such venom from Cecilia. This was the girl who had always smiled like an idiot and done whatever she was told!
Cecilia threw the Viscountess’s arms back contemptuously.
“Are we going to keep fighting? Because if so, let’s take this to the town square. It’s always better with an audience, don’t you think?”
“You… you…!”
“Mother! Are you alright?”
Tricia clutched her neck, reeling from the shock. As Rosena rushed to support her mother, Cecilia didn’t give them a second glance. She picked up her bag and walked toward the entrance.
“Where do you think you’re going! Rosena! Contact the estate immediately! Tell them we’re sending her to Marquis Dylan!” Tricia screamed at her back.
Marquis Dylan was a notorious lecher in his seventies. Word was he was currently looking for his sixth wife. He was the kind of man every noble family in Ristea avoided like the plague.
“You must be mistaken! This family is still your legal guardian! I will arrange a marriage with the Marquisate immediately! That position is more than you deserve!”
The reason for bringing up the Marquis was obvious. They intended to sell her off and pocket the dowry. Even in this situation, their ability to calculate profit was quintessential Osborne.
“Hey! Stop right there! We aren’t finished!”
Cecilia ignored them and stepped out the door. These people weren’t worth another word. She walked away from the house without a single regret.
‘First, I’ll stay at a hotel.’
Fortunately, she had managed to save some money over the years—coins the Osbornes had tossed her way like scraps of charity, which she had secretly set aside. It was nothing compared to the inheritance her parents had left, but it was enough to sustain her for a while.
‘The problem is what comes next.’
She had left with bravado, but the Viscountess was right about one thing: legally, Cecilia was still under the protection of the Osborne family. Even as an adult, she couldn’t be entirely free from a guardian’s influence regarding marriage.
‘If negotiations with the Dylan Marquisate begin, things will get messy.’
It was a harsh reality. An unmarried lady with no background stood little chance against a noble house. The aristocratic society revolved entirely around the power of one’s name.
‘What should I do…?’
As she headed toward the hotel, her mind raced. She needed a shield—a wall so high that neither the Osbornes nor the Dylans would dare to scale it.
Three days after the chaos of the wedding, a carriage pulled up in front of the Hayes Ducal residence. Reiner, having returned from the family’s estate, stepped out.
“Welcome back, Lord Reiner.”
Reiner gave a slight nod to his aide, Harry, who had come out to meet him. The midday sun caught the sharp line of his jaw and his straight, aristocratic nose. Even his dark hair, ruffled slightly by the spring breeze, looked impeccably neat.
Reiner stepped onto the ground, his long legs carrying him with an effortless grace as he slowly pulled off his gloves. Every movement exuded refined dignity, yet his expression was set in a cold mask. He was always like this after visiting the Hayes estate.
“Is the Dowager Duchess in good health?”
“Regrettably, she is still walking perfectly fine on both legs.”
At Harry’s question, Reiner furrowed his brow and loosened his cravat. It was a rare display of emotion from a man known for his extreme self-control. It was no secret that the relationship between him and Elise was abysmal.
“A vulgar bastard like you, working like a dog just to cling to the Hayes name.”
To the public, Reiner was known as the late-born son of the Grand Duchess Elise. But the truth was different. He was the illegitimate son of the previous Duke and a mistress named Mariana.
Elise, a woman of immense pride both as a noble and a wife, could never accept her husband’s infidelity. While other men kept mistresses, she believed her husband should have been above it. To be the subject of such gossip was a humiliation worse than death for her. Her rage and despair were directed entirely at her husband’s young lover, and eventually, Mariana perished in a mysterious fire. Following that, Elise had subjected Reiner to a childhood of verbal and physical abuse.
“If it is too difficult, perhaps you should refrain from visiting for a while,” Harry suggested cautiously.
Having distinguished himself in the war and become a close confidant of the Crown Prince, Reiner no longer needed the Hayes title to hold a high station. Between his inheritance from the previous Duke and his war spoils, his wealth was vast. Harry hated seeing him endure unnecessary insults from Elise.
“I don’t go because I enjoy it. I go so the elders of Hayes can see me.”
Reiner raised a hand, dismissing the suggestion. There was only one reason he maintained the facade of a dutiful son to Elise: The Dukedom. He was certain that the fire that killed his mother was Elise’s doing, but he lacked the evidence. To uncover the truth, he had to climb higher than her and squeeze it out of her.
“My brother won’t last long. Until then, I cannot give the vassals any reason to find fault with me.”
Fortunately, Elise’s son, Gilbert, was childless and bedridden with illness. Reiner was the most likely successor to the title. Until that moment came, he had to keep his head down and endure the presence of that wretched woman. Avoiding unnecessary scandal was paramount.
“By the way, sir, there is a guest waiting in the drawing room.”
At that report, Reiner came to an abrupt halt.
