Chapter 18
‘Now that I think about it, Mother also said she’d be spending the end of the year in the capital.’
It would be nice if Melinda could come to the performance with her, Winter thought.
“I’ll definitely attend this one. And could you check with the Grand Lady to see if she might be able to join me?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“Good. That should be all, then. Is there anything else to report?”
“That’s everything for today.”
“All right, you may go now.”
Victor bowed politely and left the room. Winter stared for a moment at the door he had gone through, then returned her attention to the stack of documents before her.
There was always plenty to do around the estate as the year came to a close.
She carefully replied to each invitation, separating the papers that required Hayden’s review.
After a while, her eyes caught the warm sunlight spreading across one corner of her desk.
The air shimmered, painted in gold. Almost without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingers through that glowing space.
Eugene.
That gentle warmth, foolishly enough, pulled her back to childhood — to the mischievous boy who used to tease her with that sly grin. The one who had shown her what love meant when her parents, who only doted on her brother, would not.
He had been her first friend, her protector, and her first love.
“Try not to be too happy.”
Yet the person who had once saved her was now wishing for her unhappiness.
Her throat grew dry, and she let out a sigh. She tried to return her focus to the papers, but it was no use. Her concentration scattered, replaced by a faint sense of hunger.
Setting her pen down, she rose from her seat.
Instead of pulling the bell cord for a servant, she decided to move herself. Slowly, she descended the staircase.
Then—
Rrrring—!
A sharp telephone ring pierced the silence.
The sudden sound made her stop. Something about it felt off — unusual, almost foreign. She glanced instinctively at the clock.
Four in the afternoon.
Not the sort of hour one expected a call.
Just then, a servant emerged, clearly on her way to answer it. Winter raised a hand, signaling that she would take it herself, and slowly lifted the receiver.
“…Hello?”
— …….
All she could hear at first was faint breathing.
“Hello? This is the Marchioness speaking.”
After she repeated herself, a distorted male voice finally broke through the static.
“— …Marchioness?”
It was an unfamiliar voice, laced with interference. She thought quickly but couldn’t place it.
“Yes, speaking. Who is this?”
“— The Marchioness of Wolfheize.”
The man repeated it as if confirming something to himself.
“Please, go on.”
“— Do you trust your husband?”
Her heart lurched violently.
Don’t listen. Hang up. Ignore it.
Every instinct screamed at her to put the phone down, but she gripped the receiver tightly and stayed silent.
“……”
She held her breath, trying to decide. Who was this man? Why would he call her?
“— Madam. …Don’t trust your husband too much.”
Then, abruptly, the line went dead.
Click— beep, beep, beep.
The flat tone filled her ear.
“Don’t… trust my husband? Why…?”
The splinter she had tried to keep buried in her heart rose to the surface.
She lowered the receiver slowly, and in the silence that followed, her pounding heartbeat filled the air where the call tone had been.
Once again — far too easily — a seed of doubt had been planted deep within her chest.
And now, it would only take a drizzle of suspicion to make it grow.
She shut her eyes tightly and practiced cutting the thought away before it could sprout.
For the next few days, Hayden’s late nights kept them from seeing each other properly.
He came home only long enough to sleep before leaving again at dawn.
And while she barely noticed it happening, the seed of doubt left by that strange call began to grow.
On nights when he didn’t return until very late, Winter would lie in bed, waiting, straining her ears for any sound of his arrival.
Only after hearing Hayden’s voice — and that of his aide, Ben — echo faintly through the hall would she finally drift off to sleep.
And when she opened her eyes at dawn, he was already gone again.
That morning, her hands stiff from the cold, she rubbed them together and looked up at the tall building before her.
[Chail Gallery]
The gold-embossed letters gleamed elegantly above the entrance.
Winter drew in a deep breath and steadied herself.
Inside, Hayden was waiting — attending the debut exhibition of the new painter he had sponsored, Caden Paul.
Don’t doubt him, she told herself. Trust Hayden. He’s a good husband.
Encouraging herself silently, she climbed the steps with renewed determination.
“Winter!”
Before she could even step out of the car fully, Hayden appeared at the entrance, walking toward her. His warm smile greeted her as always.
“It’s gotten cold, hasn’t it? Was the trip over difficult?”
“Not at all. You sent a car for me, remember? It was a comfortable ride.”
The gentle light in his eyes, the care in his tone — all the distrust she’d harbored crumbled without resistance.
So easily.
A single tender look, a soft touch — that was all it took to wash the suspicion away.
She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh at her own foolishness. Hayden smiled neatly and slipped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her inside.
“Let’s go in, Winter. I’ve been dying to show you Caden Paul’s work.”
His voice carried an excitement she rarely heard. The olive-green in his eyes seemed to glow as he spoke.
“Among all the debuting artists today, he’s by far the most remarkable.”
He led her to the largest hall in the gallery.
And there — hanging alone at the center of the room — was a massive painting.
Winter couldn’t help but gasp.
An entire wall-sized canvas was filled with a cascade of rose vines.
Thousands of blossoms seemed to breathe and sway on their stems, so vividly rendered that she could almost smell their fragrance.
“It seems my eye for talent didn’t fail me. Isn’t it wonderful, Winter?”
Hayden’s face glowed with pride as he gazed at the painting. His satisfaction was palpable. Winter nodded slowly — she could see why. It truly was a masterpiece.
As expected, Caden Paul’s work drew an enthusiastic response. Guests filled the hall with admiring comments.
“My, Marquis Wolfheize, I knew you had refined taste, but to discover such a talent — how extraordinary!”
“He’s an artist worth collecting, that’s for sure. Would it be possible for me to purchase this piece?”
It was Baron Castler, who’d recently taken up art collecting, asking with a hopeful expression.
“I’m afraid not. Since it’s his first major work, I’d like to keep it myself — as a token of support. But there are many other wonderful pieces, so please, take your time.”
Hayden declined with a courteous smile. The baron clicked his tongue regretfully, still admiring the painting.
“How did you come across such a remarkable artist, if I may ask?”
“Haha, simply by paying attention to promising talents, I suppose.”
Hayden replied modestly.
He had first learned of Caden Paul through Chloe. The young painter had talent but rarely created personal works, focusing mostly on commercial commissions.
One day, he had designed a performance poster for Chloe — and it had caught Hayden’s eye. Impressed, Hayden immediately offered to sponsor him.
Caden accepted under unusual terms: he would not appear publicly and would prioritize commissions for House Wolfheize.
“The Wolfheize family has always loved art and culture, ever since the previous generation,” said one man nearby, laughing lightly. “It seems that keen eye has only sharpened.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“I heard your family is also sponsoring one of the rising actresses these days?”
“Ah yes, Chloe Bennet, was it? The young lady who’ll be starring in Queen Viola this winter?”
“She’s quite the sensation. The Marchioness knows her well, doesn’t she?”
The Baroness smiled politely as she asked. Winter blinked, caught off guard, then nodded.
“Yes, I do. Though Chloe is just…”
A dear friend, she meant to say — not a family protégé. But before she could finish, Hayden’s hand tightened gently on her shoulder, drawing her attention.
“We’re all close,” he said smoothly, not looking at her. “In fact, I’ve known Miss Chloe Bennet since our academy days.”
Winter blinked again, confusion flickering in her eyes, but she managed to nod.
“Oh my! So that’s why you were together at the last ball? What a lovely long-standing friendship. Wouldn’t you agree, Marchioness?”
The Baroness hid a smile behind her fan.
Winter straightened her back and forced her lips into a polite curve.
“Yes. She’s a cherished and long-time friend of ours.”
And just like that, she decided to play along with Hayden’s tune.
(To be continued…)
