Chapter 62
Cough, cough!
At that moment, Layla and Sonet flinched apart in surprise at the loud coughing sound from behind them.
When Layla turned toward the source, her expression froze into something unfamiliar. Sonet also turned his head that way.
Standing there was—
“Congratulations on your engagement, you two.”
Rainier.
But instead of his usual doctor’s coat, he was dressed neatly in a formal suit.
“Who invited a commoner like you here?”
“I… I did. Sonet.”
Layla had never actually done so, but she said it anyway. It didn’t seem like she had a choice in the moment.
Ever since receiving Rainier’s blood, Layla had felt the improvement in her health so vividly it was undeniable. She would need more of that blood in the future.
It was clear that royal blood truly was special, and she needed it.
And given that Rainier always claimed he didn’t like her, he must also have something he wanted from her.
That meant they were mutually beneficial, necessary to each other.
She preferred that kind of relationship, so she took his side. After all, Sonet’s feelings for her weren’t genuine anyway.
“Marquis Bruce is waiting for you in the banquet hall.”
Rainier said that, then turned and walked away.
“Now that we’re alone again…”
Sonet was about to pick up the mood again, but Layla stepped forward first.
“I want to make a good impression on the Marquis. He’s going to be my father-in-law, after all.”
She smiled as she ignored the sting in her lips—still swollen from Rainier.
“Ah… right.”
Sonet smiled brightly at her words, took her hand, and led her into the banquet hall. Guests sat around circular tables, enjoying the feast.
Layla and Sonet had to greet the Marquis and Marchioness Bruce first.
Layla already knew from the original story that Sonet’s current mother, the Marchioness, was not his birth mother. The current Marchioness had once been a commoner.
And the unattractive man beside her bore a striking resemblance to the Marchioness.
“Hello, my lord.”
“So you’re the new daughter-in-law. The wedding was arranged so quickly, I’m only meeting you now.”
The Marquis of Bruce smiled warmly, patting Layla’s shoulder as if he were already pleased with her.
“Father, Layla’s health is fragile. You shouldn’t treat her so roughly, like a man.”
“Haha, yes, I know. That’s why I was gentle. Right, daughter-in-law?”
“Yes, I liked it.”
Layla felt burdened by being called “daughter-in-law” when the wedding hadn’t even happened yet—especially because she had no real intention of marrying Sonet.
“I’ll be a partner Sonet won’t be ashamed of. Please take good care of me, Father, Mother.”
She deliberately made eye contact with the Marchioness as she smiled. The Marchioness curled one corner of her lips.
“I thought maybe you were rushing the engagement because you were already expecting.”
“My belly will be full soon enough. We’re about to eat, after all.”
Pretending not to understand the implication, Layla replied with feigned innocence. The Marchioness frowned.
“I hear you’ve been unwell.”
“I’m fine now.”
“I wonder if we’ll even get grandchildren from a sickly daughter-in-law.”
At that remark, Sonet’s eyes turned cold toward his stepmother.
“Undermining us on the day of our engagement—looks like you still haven’t learned any tact, Stepmother.”
“Sonet?”
“This is why I said commoner-borns were unsuitable, Father.”
As Sonet and the Marchioness stared each other down, the Marquis looked uncertain, then turned to Layla.
“What was it about our Sonet that you liked, daughter-in-law?”
At that, Sonet’s expression instantly softened.
“Sonet is truly kind. He’s always considerate toward me. How could I not love him?”
Sonet ducked his head with a shy smile at her words. The Marchioness, however, looked at her son with open disdain.
“And you’re happy with this, my lady?”
The young Bruce heir sneered at Layla.
“Well, sure. When you’re born a noble, you start life with more wealth than commoners could earn in a lifetime. I suppose that’s why an engagement between such people just… exudes elegance.”
It was clearly sarcasm, though he masked it. Layla simply smiled, pretending not to notice.
“Being a noble isn’t just about privileges. The greater the privilege, the heavier the duty. Didn’t Sonet go to the battlefield as a boy? I heard his first campaign was at fifteen.”
Sonet turned to look at her, surprised, before clasping her hand tightly.
“For a commoner, fifteen is when you’re still in school, learning a trade. For a noble, fifteen is often the age of your first campaign. And half of them don’t come back alive.”
“Ahem.”
“You went to war at fifteen too, didn’t you, young master Bruce?”
But unlike Sonet, he had not—having lived as a commoner before being legally adopted.
Feigning ignorance, Layla said it anyway. Sonet chuckled, and the Marquis smiled as if he liked her even more.
“We’ve gained a wise daughter-in-law.”
“I told you I have good taste, Father.”
Sonet kissed Layla’s cheek.
“Please, enjoy yourself—nobly.”
After mocking his stepmother, Sonet led Layla to the Count of Aviere’s table.
“Father. Mother.”
“Layla… you look… very beautiful today.”
Count Aviere felt awkward. Layla so resembled her birth mother on her wedding day that it felt as though his own shame was being exposed.
It was like announcing to the world all over again that he had been involved with Carmen even before marriage.
He knew Siever was his biological child. When he adopted Siever, it hadn’t mattered. But today, at Layla’s wedding celebration, that fact felt like a blemish.
It made him feel like a father who had wronged his daughter.
It was true he’d married Layla’s mother without love. But he had done nothing to her as she lay dying—apart from ignoring her illness a few times and dismissing her requests to see him.
When she eventually died, he told himself it wasn’t his fault.
But seeing Layla now made everything uncomfortable, as if even he was ashamed of his own excuses.
“Once you’re married and Sonet inherits the marquisate, Layla, you’ll be the Marchioness.”
“Yes.”
The Count felt strange, knowing Sonet would soon outrank him.
“Then I’ll pass the earldom to Siever.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
Layla smiled brightly at her father.
She wasn’t stupid. The girl who once acted foolish to win his love was long dead. Now only the cold, cynical Layla remained beneath her innocent facade.
“Who says Sonet and I will have only one child?”
She looked him in the eye. She had no lingering affection for him.
‘Father, I’m really sick! Please, call a proper doctor!’
‘That again? Stop it already! Trying to get attention by pretending to be sick—how disgusting!’
‘I’m really sick… Father…’
‘Ugh. I’m sick of you.’
She remembered his words from her past life, and a bitter smile tugged at her lips.
“Is that true, Layla?”
She came back to herself when she noticed Sonet’s flushed cheeks.
“Of course. We’ll have at least three. It would be perfect for our family to have both a marquis and an earl.”
She glanced at her father, who shut his mouth, looking caught off guard.
“You really are greedy, Layla.”
“Mother, your makeup is unusually heavy today. I almost thought you had a black eye.”
“What?”
Layla retaliated against her stepmother’s jab with a mocking smile.
“The dress code was blue, but who puts blue on their eyelids?”
The Count wanted to scold Layla for her rudeness, but with Sonet watching, he didn’t dare. After all, their marriage came with Sonet’s promised diamond mine.
The Count fully intended to take possession of that mine the moment it was registered under Layla’s name.
The Bruce marquisate was among the wealthiest and most powerful noble houses in the central aristocracy.
If Layla married into such a family, surely she would part with a mere diamond mine for the sake of the man who raised her.
Arrogantly thinking so, he turned a blind eye to his wife’s humiliation.
And even if the engagement fell through, he wouldn’t mind sending Layla to be Crown Prince Anasis’s concubine instead.
“Yes, your makeup is a bit much today. Someone might think I’ve been beating you.”
Blinded by greed, the Count sided with Layla.
“D-Dear…!”
The Countess lowered her head in humiliation, and Layla smirked at her.
