Chapter 9: The Fraying Bond
Rojena sprang to her feet, grabbing Evan by the collar.
“Are you seriously comparing me to Cecilia right now? Defending her in front of a woman carrying your child? Have you lost your mind? Are you completely insane?!”
“Rojena, please—”
“Don’t call me that! Why her, and not me? Why Cecilia and not Rojena?!”
Normally, Evan called Rojena by her nickname, “Rozy.”
It was the only moment she never doubted his love.
But hearing her full name on his lips, cold and distant, brought tears to her eyes.
She tightened her grip, sobbing as she pressed her accusations.
“Are you saying you were just playing with me? Was everything about loving me a lie? Did you get tired of me the moment I became pregnant? Huh? Answer me! Answer!”
Rojena relentlessly pushed forward, her hands clenching his collar.
“R-Rojena… no, Rozy, please, calm down.”
Evan struggled to free himself from her grip.
Rojena, unable to contain her anger, broke into a childlike wail.
“You wicked man!”
“What a scene this is!”
At that moment, a shout came from the doorway.
Turning, they saw Viscount Osburn and his wife entering the room.
Viscount Claude Osburn’s face was set in a stern expression, his hand stroking his chin, while Viscountess Tricia trembled, her face flushed.
“Rozy, is it becoming of a noble lady to throw such a tantrum?”
“Father! Evan says he won’t marry me!”
Rojena’s cry made Evan wince.
Claude and Tricia took immense pride in their social standing. They had opposed Evan and Rojena’s relationship from the start. Even after the wedding, they had nearly beaten him before Rojena tearfully restrained them.
“What on earth is this? He won’t marry you?”
Tricia glared at Evan, her face red with anger.
Claude scrutinized him with a look of deep disapproval.
“Evan March, should you not be on your knees, begging our daughter’s forgiveness right now?”
“Indeed! How dare a commoner impregnate our daughter and behave so shamelessly! Are you trying to ruin her life?”
“It’s not like that… I apologize. I am truly sorry.”
Evan bowed his head, taking a step back. It was wiser not to further provoke the couple’s temper.
Turning back to Rojena, he lightly rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Ha… Rozy. I’m sorry.”
He met her gaze earnestly, speaking gently yet firmly.
“I want nothing more than to marry you as soon as possible. But the timing… it’s just not right. Can you bear with me a little longer?”
Rojena said nothing, turning her face away and pursing her lips.
Tricia, unable to bear the silence, stepped forward.
“So, when is this wedding supposed to happen? The child will keep growing—are we supposed to hide it like an illegitimate baby?”
“We’ll at least exchange vows at the church first. The ceremony will follow after Rozy has recovered from childbirth, and it will be a grand affair,” Evan said, his voice weary.
Postponing a wedding due to childbirth was rare, but it was better than letting the child be mistaken for illegitimate.
“By then, everyone will have forgotten about it, and you’ll be able to wear a far more beautiful dress. How does that sound?”
Evan’s gaze was desperate. More than the wedding, he wanted this situation resolved quickly.
Facing the Osburns’ three stony faces, their arms crossed, he felt suffocated.
Among them, Rojena’s sharp expression stood out as she said bluntly,
“Then the wedding dress must be the finest.”
“Ha… very well.”
“And the venue must be the most luxurious and extravagant in Brisen.”
“I’ll… do my best.”
“‘Do your best’? Make it happen, don’t just try!”
“All right. All right, I promise.”
Defeated by her persistence, Evan raised both hands in surrender.
Only then did Rojena’s expression soften.
“Then I suppose I can forgive you for now.”
“Ahem. Well, that’s settled then.”
Claude stepped back, hands behind his back, while Tricia approached Rojena, gently stroking her daughter’s cheek.
“Oh, my poor girl. You must have been so frightened carrying a child alone. Are you hurt anywhere? Hungry? Shall I summon Brisen’s finest chef for you?”
Evan sighed, scratching his head. He already felt suffocated at the thought of enduring this for life.
‘In this regard, Cecilia was far easier…’
After all, Cecilia was the heiress of a count’s family, with no troublesome in-laws. She hadn’t fussed and screamed like Rojena.
‘What a wasted opportunity…’
If no one had discovered his relationship with Rojena, he would have been enjoying a sweet honeymoon by now. Evan regretted the lost chance, savoring the bitter memory.
Then a thought struck him. The wedding had fallen apart, and several days had already passed.
Since leaving the shared residence that was supposed to be their marital home, Cecilia had vanished without a trace.
‘Where on earth is she, and what is she doing now?’
Gilbert’s death had only just been officially confirmed.
“Breaking News! Suspicion Surrounds the Death of Duke Gilbert Hayes! What Is the Truth?”
“Who Will Inherit the Dukedom? Younger Brother Sir Rainer Hayes a Strong Candidate.”
The empire’s press, fed by anonymous tips, competed fiercely for exclusives.
Early in the morning, reporters swarmed the Hayes estate where Elize resided.
“Madam! Please comment on the rumors!”
“Is it true the Duke has passed?”
“To my knowledge, the Duke has no heirs after his wife’s passing. Who will be the next Duke?”
“Look at this!”
Amid the shouting and pen-wielding chaos, Elize’s head maid, Margaret, rolled up her sleeves and stepped forward.
“Details will be provided in writing. Please, everyone, leave!”
As she gestured, the staff pushed the reporters back, and a commotion erupted.
A carriage quickly departed the Hayes estate.
“Look! A carriage!”
“Madam must be inside! Give chase!”
The reporters shouted, but the carriage disappeared beyond the hill.
As expected, Elize was inside. She ground her teeth watching the journalists recede into the distance. This had to be Rainer’s doing.
“That wretch…!”
She should have acted when he was meddling with the body or whatever he did. Underestimating him had been a grave mistake. With no clear evidence, she had hesitated, and now she regretted it.
“How much longer?”
“About twenty minutes remaining, madam.”
“Hurry!”
Elize impatiently thumped the carriage wall. She intended to confront Rainer directly at the ducal estate. Clearly, occupying the capital’s ducal residence alone had gone to his head.
The moment the carriage arrived, Elize leapt down.
“Madam Elize, you’ve arrived—”
“Out of my way!”
Uncharacteristically for a noble matron, she shoved Harry aside and strode into the ducal residence.
She stormed straight into Rainer’s office.
Rainer sat at his desk, reviewing documents, not looking up even as she approached.
“Madam, what brings you here without notice? Frequent visits make me feel my humble presence is somehow elevated,” he remarked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Elize trembled with anger, throwing a newspaper onto his desk.
“It’s all your doing!”
The paper landed with a thud before him. The bold headline screamed: “Duke Hayes Dead.”
“Why did you dare publish this about Gilbert without consulting me?!”
Only then did Rainer lift his head and slowly open the newspaper.
A satisfied smile played on his lips as he read the first page. He made no effort to hide that he was behind the situation, nor did he seem inclined to explain.
Still focused on the paper, he spoke nonchalantly:
“Rest assured, madam. We’ve omitted the part about you clutching your son’s body for weeks in grief.”
