Chapter 49
The duchess strode toward Edmund’s bedroom, her steps full of confidence and anticipation.
By now, he must be on the verge of death. He’ll be obedient at last.
He was only fourteen.
Thin and fragile already—worse off after being locked up by Cassia for a night.
Now, after several more days in the dark without food, he had to be utterly broken.
Surely, he’d confessed everything by now.
And then I can finally get rid of that troublesome, hateful boy.
Every time she looked at Edmund, who resembled the late duchess, her stomach twisted with disgust.
She was convinced her husband still harbored feelings for his late sister-in-law.
To her, Edmund and his mother were obstacles—thorns blocking the path of herself and her son, Patrick.
Unforgivable. I won’t let them ruin Patrick’s future.
She only needed to learn where he’d hidden the heirloom. Then, she’d kill him.
Even my husband can’t object once the boy is gone. With him dead, everything will be neat and simple.
Her excitement built, nearly giddy, and she quickened her pace.
But just as she reached the corridor leading to Edmund’s chamber—
CRASH!
Glass shattered.
What?
Then—THUD!
Something heavy struck the ground.
And a piercing scream ripped the air.
“KYAAAAAH!!!”
Cassia, walking just ahead as though to guide her, muttered in confusion.
“That was the nanny’s voice. What happened?”
Despite her limp, she hurried toward the noise.
The sound came from the same direction as Edmund’s room.
Edmund’s chamber?
A shiver of dread crawled up the duchess’s spine, but she forced it down and followed.
Cassia limped quickly, yet the duchess pushed past and reached the door first.
It was locked tight.
“What? Nothing’s wrong—”
Had Edmund escaped? No—the cries were still close, not inside but outside, near the building.
Cassia urged her.
“Madam, hurry. Open the door.”
“Y-yes!”
Fumbling for the key, the duchess unlocked it.
What they found inside made them freeze.
Wind howled through a broken window—though it should have been nailed shut with boards.
A hole the size of a child’s body gaped in the planks. Shards of glass glittered on the floor.
Scratches and bloody handprints smeared across the wood told the rest of the story: days of desperate struggle to break free.
Anyone would feel pity, even horror, at the sight.
But the duchess cared for none of that. She searched only for Edmund.
“Where is he? Where’s the boy?!”
Her trembling voice almost sounded like real concern. Ironic.
But the room was empty.
Heart pounding, she rushed to the shattered window and looked down—
And there he was.
A boy’s frail body sprawled across the garden below.
Silver hair, matted with blood.
The duchess screamed.
“N-no!!!”
Darkness closed over her eyes.
***
While the duchess and her attendants panicked, Cassia kept her composure.
Despite her limp, she rushed down the stairs, desperate to check Edmund’s condition.
The nanny, who had been passing through the garden and witnessed it first, was already at his side.
“What happened?” Cassia asked.
“I was walking through the garden when—suddenly, the young master fell from above!”
“That’s impossible… Was he so broken from being locked up that he went mad?”
Cassia and the nanny spoke in tones meant for the duchess to overhear—planting the idea firmly in her mind.
In the chaos, no one noticed how deliberate their words were.
The duchess arrived a step later, nearly fainting at the sight of all the blood.
Her fear wasn’t for Edmund’s life—but for her own downfall.
She stumbled back, hiding behind Marco—Willace in disguise—who blocked her view protectively.
“This is no sight for a lady of your standing, madam!” he said firmly.
The duchess clutched his back, biting her nails, muttering in denial.
“N-no… It’s not my fault. This isn’t my fault!”
Her mind whirled.
If Edmund had truly lost his mind and jumped—if he died—then the location of the heirloom would be lost forever.
And if my husband finds out… he’ll never forgive me.
Worse, the duke had said the imperial family of Zenobia wanted that heirloom.
If Patrick’s engagement falls through because of this—!
Her rosy dreams crumbled into ash.
But then—a sliver of hope.
Cassia’s calm voice rang out:
“He’s still alive!”
“What?!”
The duchess staggered forward.
Edmund lay covered in blood, the stench heavy in the air.
Even if he breathed now, could he survive long enough to reveal the heirloom?
If he dies before speaking, I’m finished!
She shrieked, frantic.
“Fetch a doctor! Now!”
But the servants gave her a crushing answer.
“There is no doctor here, madam.”
“What do you mean, no doctor?!”
“He was given leave yesterday.”
“Of all times!”
The duchess stamped her feet in fury.
Meanwhile, Cassia approached, hands and clothes stained with blood.
“I’ll take him to a physician in the city.”
“You can’t take him out of the villa without permission!”
Cassia leaned close, lowering her voice—a subtle threat.
“If Edmund dies here, neither you nor I will be able to explain it to the duke.”
“Th-that…”
The duchess faltered. Cassia had struck right at her deepest fear.
“I’ll take responsibility,” Cassia continued earnestly. “You are the duke’s wife and Patrick’s mother. No one will blame you too harshly. But me? I’ll be ruined.”
To the duchess, Cassia’s desperate plea seemed perfectly believable.
Yes. She’s a pitiful girl with no standing. If things go wrong, she’ll be the scapegoat.
The duchess’s eyes gleamed.
“You swear you’ll bear all responsibility for this?”
“Yes. I’m as good as dead already if things stay this way.”
The duchess’s thoughts spun. If Edmund died, she could shift all the blame onto Cassia.
Perfect. After all, the governess was dismissed—Cassia had been in charge of this villa. I only arrived afterward. That’s what I’ll say.
Her calm returned.
“…Very well. Since this is under your jurisdiction, so be it.”
“…Thank you.”
Cassia forced down a bitter smile.
As if she’s doing me a favor. She’s practically glowing with relief. Just as I planned.
Still, the duchess wasn’t careless enough to let Cassia go unchecked.
She ordered two people to accompany her and watch everything closely:
her trusted lady-in-waiting, Madam Lillifen, and her newly favored servant, Marco (Willace).
“Guard them well. Don’t let her try anything. Report back to me at once!”
Willace bowed, hiding his smirk.
Even now, in her panic, she refuses to confirm things herself. How predictable.
But the true marvel, he thought, was Cassia.
She foresaw this exactly. She told me just two days ago: “The duchess won’t check for herself. At most, she’ll send Lillifen.”
And now, here they were—exactly as she had said.
Remarkable, my lady.
Suppressing his admiration, he drove the carriage swiftly.
With Edmund and Cassia inside, the carriage shot out of the villa grounds.
***
Lillifen, tense and suspicious, kept her sharp eyes on them.
Surely I won’t be made the scapegoat too? The duke’s wrath would be unbearable…
Then—Cassia exhaled a long sigh.
They were far enough from the villa.
In a light, almost casual voice, she said,
“All right. You can get up now.”
Lillifen blinked in shock.
Before she could comprehend, the “bloodied, half-dead” Edmund suddenly sat upright.
