Chapter 19
“I miss you, Mother. Father said that if I study hard, he’ll forgive you. So I’ll work hard and rescue you. If we can meet again, I won’t be afraid of anything.”
Agnès’s face twisted with sorrow and longing as she read the letter — yet there was warmth in her eyes too.
In the letter she had sent to Noah, Agnès had written about how much she missed him and how hard she was trying to reunite with him. She’d told him that her efforts would soon bear fruit — that soon they’d live together again under one roof.
“Let’s live in a new home where you never have to be afraid, and where we can always smile.”
That had been the last line of her letter.
But Noah, still young, hadn’t understood the deeper meaning hidden in those words.
He thought that if he worked hard and convinced his father, then Mother would be allowed to come home.
Maybe he had interpreted her “effort” as begging Father to forgive her — because that was all he’d ever seen growing up.
In the Overhan mansion, that kind of twisted logic was ordinary.
“Noah… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”
Her chest ached at the thought of her timid son forcing himself to face the father he feared most.
She felt both proud — proud that he’d been brave — and guilty, because she’d put him in that position.
Clutching the letter to her chest, Agnès let out a shaky breath. Tears pricked at her eyes again, but she bit her lip and held them back.
She wouldn’t cry.
She wouldn’t live as a helpless woman anymore.
She would become strong — strong enough to protect the people she loved.
The gold in her eyes, still wet with tears, gleamed brighter than ever.
✦ ✦ ✦
In noble society, divorced women rarely won custody of their children.
It wasn’t impossible, but it was exceedingly rare.
To succeed, a woman usually needed at least one of three advantages:
- her own noble title,
- property or wealth,
- or the full backing of her birth family’s household.
Agnès had none of these.
Without a title or fortune, the only path left was to prove that her family could provide the child a stable, noble life — that Noah could inherit their rank and lands.
But that, too, was impossible.
The Everchen title would pass to her half-brother, Haver.
That left only one option.
She would have to prove that Rickman Overhan was not a fit guardian — that Noah could not grow up safely in his care.
A few bruises or harsh words wouldn’t be enough. Among nobles, an ungrown child was considered the father’s property.
So what made a man “unfit”?
It wasn’t violence. It was disgrace.
If a father lost his honor, then society might agree that raising a child under him was shameful.
To Agnès, the logic was absurd — that being beaten was acceptable, but being raised by a dishonored man was not — but that was the law of this world.
“Rickman is a perfectionist… but not a moral one.”
To outsiders, Count Overhan appeared the perfect gentleman.
But to anyone he considered beneath him, his real nature showed.
Agnès had been one of those people.
Sometimes, while he worked in his study, she would sense something strange.
He’d be sitting alone, going through reports and investment papers, yet his expression would twist with fury, as if fighting something unseen.
Whenever that happened, Agnès would bring tea to calm him — but each time, she noticed something odd.
A faint, damp chill clung to his body. The smell of dust and mildew — like a basement.
Rickman despised anyone entering his office without warning.
When one maid once made that mistake, he had beaten her brutally and sent her away — and no one ever heard of her again.
The servants whispered that he was simply an irritable man.
But Agnès saw something else in his anger — fear. Panic.
The look of a man afraid his secret was about to be found out.
She was almost certain now.
There was a hidden passage connecting his study to the mansion’s basement.
Secret passages weren’t unusual in noble houses.
But what mattered was what he was hiding down there.
If even Agnès — whom he thought completely under his control — must never see it, then whatever lay below could destroy his honor.
And that, she realized, was her best chance.
Because Agnès already had a guess about what was hidden there.
✦ ✦ ✦
A few days later, Agnès left the mansion with her maid, Lizzie.
Behind them, following at a respectful distance, was a knight — Pavel, one of Duke Basteron’s men.
Originally, Agnès had planned to go out quietly with only Lizzie.
But when she mentioned taking a kitchen maid to Sharon, it became… complicated.
Sharon, ever cautious, had insisted that two unescorted women traveling alone was unsafe. She consulted Gavelin, who in turn told Dylan — and before Agnès knew it, a knight had been assigned to accompany her.
“Sir Pavel, I’m sorry for making you waste your time. It’s just a short trip into the city.”
She smiled apologetically.
Technically, she wasn’t someone Pavel was sworn to protect — not yet.
He had pledged loyalty to the duke and his lady, not the duke’s fiancée.
Still, he smiled broadly, shaking his head.
“Not at all, my lady! Protecting the woman my lord treasures most is an honor. In fact, I’m proud that he trusted me with this task.”
Pavel was young, handsome, and cheerful — the sort of man everyone liked instantly.
He had an easy charm that even made timid Lizzie blush and glance at him when she thought no one was looking.
Whether he noticed or pretended not to, Pavel turned back to Agnès with a grin.
“My lady, we’re heading toward a rather rough part of town. May I suggest a safer, more pleasant area instead?”
“That’s very kind of you, but it’s all right. I have business in this direction. Honestly, I feel safer knowing you’re with us.”
“Ha! Then I’ll make sure to earn that trust. Stay close to me, both of you — just in case!”
With a lighthearted chuckle, he took the lead.
But as the streets grew narrower and darker, his smile faded, and his eyes grew sharp.
“Forgive me for asking, but may I know our exact destination?”
“A private investigator’s office. I need to find someone. I hope that won’t be a problem?”
“Of course not. I only ask so I can protect you properly.”
“How very diligent of you.”
Agnès didn’t know much about knights or swordsmanship.
But she had heard that the Basteron knights were few in number — and each one was elite.
Remembering that, she felt less afraid even as they entered the gloomy, sunless alleys.
The detective agency she sought wasn’t exactly hidden, but it was discreet — deep within the backstreets, far from noble eyes.
She had learned of it long ago, from her stepmother’s habit of gossiping about “useful” places that dealt in secrets.
It wasn’t a grand establishment. But for Agnès, who had spent her whole life confined to noble halls, it was her best option.
And this was something she couldn’t tell anyone close to her.
Not even Dylan.
Inside, the office smelled faintly of tobacco and ink. Behind a worn desk sat a woman with sharp eyes and a quick smile — the kind of woman who’d seen every kind of trouble before.
Spotting Agnès’s elegant clothes and nervous posture, she beamed as if she’d just struck gold.
“Welcome, milady! You’ve come to the right place. I’m Rebecca, owner of this fine establishment. Please, have a seat.”
Caught off guard by the warm greeting, Agnès hesitated — then sat down where Rebecca gestured.
