Chapter 52
Angela, putting some distance between herself and Kalian, gave a small shrug.
“What can I do, Kalian? I did say I’d go through with it. I guess I made you come all this way for nothing.”
Kalian, who had been about to close the gap between them, stopped dead in his tracks.
“Why…?”
The short question carried a multitude of emotions. Kalian looked furious, as if he could burst with anger, yet also on the verge of tears, consumed by sorrow. Every unspoken feeling seemed to pour into that single word.
Angela knew this wasn’t something to brush off with a simple “just because.” She had imagined this moment countless times, preparing herself for it.
What words could she use to push him away? How could she let go of someone who had secretly loved even her most flawed moments?
The realization came quickly. There was only one way.
“Kalian.”
“Speak. But it had better be something I can accept.”
Kalian’s voice was firm, as if no explanation could possibly satisfy him. He didn’t know what card Angela held, and that uncertainty fueled his defiance.
Angela gazed at his face, drinking in every detail. She had to commit it to memory now. After this, he might vow never to look at her again.
Their locked gazes broke when Kalian stepped forward, reaching to pull her into his arms again.
“Kalian, I have something like this.”
Pushing away his enveloping arms, Angela turned and spoke. From the nightstand beside the bed, she retrieved a pendant carefully wrapped in a handkerchief.
As she held it out, Kalian’s face betrayed utter bewilderment. He couldn’t fathom why this pendant was in Angela’s hands.
“Tristan said you gave it to him, and he gave it to me. Said I’d like having it more.”
Kalian clicked his tongue, clearly thinking it was a pointless act. And it was, in a way. Because of it, Angela had learned something she’d rather not have known.
If only she hadn’t known.
If she’d remained ignorant, she might have drunk the poison Dominic offered, played dead with a fake corpse, and slipped out of the mansion. Then she’d have run straight to Bildium.
Kalian might have slipped a pink diamond onto her finger, asking where she’d been all this time. He might have whispered his love, saying it didn’t matter that she wasn’t the duke’s daughter.
But this pendant didn’t even allow her such fantasies. It was an obstacle blocking her actions, a shackle on her ankles, handcuffs on her wrists.
“It told me who your real mother is.”
Kalian’s eyes darkened, sinking into an unfathomable abyss, like a black sea with no bottom. Angela arbitrarily decided the emotion lurking in those depths was curiosity.
“You’d want to know, wouldn’t you?”
Her self-deprecating mutter drew a cold laugh from Kalian. A sharp smile grazed his lips like a claw mark. Surprised by his unexpected reaction, Angela asked hesitantly.
“You’re not curious? I’m saying I know who your mother is.”
“I’m not curious. What I care about is you and me. Talk about us, not something else.”
Kalian’s response was resolute. His face showed no trace of curiosity. Any attachment to his lineage seemed as distant as someone else’s concern.
Now it was Angela who was thrown into confusion. Hesitation lingered at the corners of her mouth. But there was no way to end this without telling him.
Especially when it was right in front of her… Something Angela could never have, even if she wanted it, was just a few steps away for Kalian.
Biting her lip hard, Angela forced herself to speak.
“Kalian, the person who gave birth to you—”
“I said I’m not curious!”
Kalian’s voice rose sharply, cutting her off.
“Ah…”
Angela froze, her lips parted. His fierce shout echoed in her ears like a reverberation. Only then did she truly understand.
Kalian wasn’t saying he wasn’t curious because he didn’t care. He wasn’t saying he didn’t want to know because he was indifferent. It wasn’t that at all.
He already knew. He knew who his mother was. Whose womb he had come from.
Angela nearly dropped the pendant but managed to grip it tightly, pressing it into Kalian’s hand. She feared holding it any longer would damage something precious to them.
“You… knew?”
There was no reply. But could any answer be clearer than this heavy silence? Angela let out a hollow laugh.
“If you knew, then why…”
She stopped mid-sentence. She thought she understood what drove Kalian.
Yvonne was raising Beatrice and living in the Bilton mansion. She was in a position to potentially become the duchess.
If Kalian suddenly appeared claiming to be her son, it would complicate things. He likely didn’t want to push the mother he’d barely found into a difficult situation.
Angela was newly struck by Kalian’s patience.
She silently applauded the endurance it must have taken to tolerate her actions toward Yvonne and Beatrice.
“Don’t be too harsh on Lady Yvonne. She’s the one who raised you.”
“You whipped Beatrice? She’s your sister, Angela. She was just born that way—couldn’t you show a little more mercy?”
“Lady Angela, if you need to vent your anger, take it out on me instead. I pity Lady Yvonne.”
“You made Beatrice cry again, didn’t you? It seems my requests are always a joke to you, Lady Bilton.”
How had he endured it? How had he borne it? No matter how she thought about it, Kalian should have been the one to mention breaking off the engagement first.
No, he shouldn’t have accepted her in the first place. That would have been right. Yet Kalian’s reaction was incomprehensible.
First, he pressed her sharply.
“Is that why you want to break it off? Because you know whose child I am?”
“…”
“No.”
Angela, unable to find words, was met with his stubborn refusal.
“Anyway, I have no intention of living as her son. So why should I lose you over that?”
The word lose stirred Angela’s emotions. It was a word that made her feel cherished. His desperate wish not to let her go pooled in that word, unyielding and unshifting.
“Absolutely not.”
His final words were a resolute rejection.
Angela found herself shamefully happy. Knowing it was brazen, she wanted to confess her love to Yvonne’s son and promise him forever.
Maybe it would be alright.
Angela had poured her heart out to Yvonne. And hadn’t Yvonne apologized in return?
They would no longer hurt each other.
Their relationship, in some way, had reached a resolution. So perhaps it was okay to be a little greedy…
Just wait for me a little longer. I’ll come to Bildium. Even if I’m no longer Lady Bilton, please love me.
Her lips trembled with the urge to say those words. But then, the sound of a carriage rolling in came from outside the window. The faint clatter of hooves announced Dominic’s return.
Kalian had freed her from one shackle, but another awaited. Her handcuffs had been cut away, yet Angela’s wrists remained bound.
With her limbs restrained, all Angela could do, as if manipulated by some unseen force, was open her mouth.
“I hate that you’re Yvonne’s son. It’s awful. I despise Yvonne, so now I despise you just as much.”
Kalian stood rooted to the spot, as if nailed in place. Then, without warning, he hoisted Angela over his shoulder. It happened in an instant.
Caught off guard, Angela couldn’t gather her wits, dangling over Kalian’s shoulder as he carried her.
By the time she came to her senses, they were passing through the mansion’s lobby. It felt like every servant’s eyes were on them. But the servants were the least of her concerns.
“What do you think you’re doing, Count Florenche?”
Dominic’s voice cut through as he strode toward them. That was the real problem.
Even so, Kalian set Angela down, perhaps because they were in Dominic’s presence.
Angela tried to defend Kalian, to say it was no big deal. Not long ago, this man had threatened to kill Kalian.
She now knew that no matter how precious something was to her, if it passed through her hands, Dominic would show no mercy.
But Kalian, oblivious to this, explained the situation with confidence.
“I’m taking Angela to my estate for a while.”
“I cannot allow that.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, his refusal unyielding. To an outsider, it might have looked like a father protecting his precious daughter from being taken away.
“Go home for now, Kalian.”
As the two men faced off, Angela stepped in front of Kalian, shielding him from Dominic’s gaze. Kalian looked at her, disbelief etched across his face, as if he couldn’t fathom how she could say such a thing.
Angela knew. If she went with Kalian to the Florenche estate, she would be treated with unparalleled care.
Kalian, who had buried the secret of the pendant, would surely wake her every morning with tender hugs.
She’d seen it before—he could be surprisingly playful.
He’d reveal those unexpected sides of himself, one by one, always keeping her delighted.
Her heart was already following Kalian in her imagination. But her body, the part that mattered, remained tethered to a pillar in the Bilton mansion.
“Kalian.”
She called his name in a warning tone. Kalian blinked, incredulous, but he would respect her wishes, as he always did.
“Let’s talk about it next time.”
Unable to force her further, Kalian stepped back.
“There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Instead, he took a step toward Dominic, straightening his shoulders as he made his demand.
“Please don’t send the annulment papers.”
“…Very well. It’s your matter to settle, so handle it as you see fit.”
Dominic glanced at Angela, then nodded with a feigned benevolence.
He seemed almost pleased to see her looking as though she might collapse.
There was clearly an inevitable conclusion in his mind, and he wanted to watch Angela slowly sink beneath the surface, without finalizing anything just yet.
What a cruel disposition.
Angela was struck anew by Dominic’s nature. She had thought she was merciless because she resembled Grace.
But no. The one who truly resembled Grace was standing right there, alive and breathing.
Yet, having lived as his daughter for twenty-three years, it seemed that even without a drop of shared blood, some resemblance had taken root.
“Clear your head. I’ll do the same.”
Kalian left the Bilton mansion, reluctance trailing behind him. Not before planting a kiss on the back of Angela’s hand, bold and deliberate.
His lips pressed against her skin with an intensity , leaving a searing heat like a brand.
Angela couldn’t tear her eyes from Kalian’s retreating figure.
When his back finally vanished from her sight, she brought her lips to the spot on her hand where his had been, as if making a wish.
She closed her eyes, tracing the lingering warmth he’d left behind.
Snicker.
A mocking sound broke the moment, as if someone had witnessed something utterly ridiculous.
Opening her eyes, Angela saw Dominic staring at her. His face was cruel. It was not the look of a father gazing at his daughter…
No, of course not. She wasn’t his daughter. That’s why he could look at her like that.
When he looked at Beatrice, it wasn’t like this. That stern face would soften with a smile. But now, his eyes calculated how many more drops of poison it would take to kill her.
“…Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give away that you’re a murderer.”
Muttering just loud enough for Dominic to hear, Angela turned and walked away.
Only then did she hear movement behind her—the servants, who had been frozen like broken machinery, now scrambling to return to their tasks.
The mistress of the house had provided quite the spectacle, so there would surely be plenty of gossip.
Angela hoped they wouldn’t get caught. They always seemed to earn a whipping when they did.
No… wait. These servants weren’t hers anymore, so she couldn’t discipline them so freely…
With a hollow laugh, Angela’s steps carried her not to her room but to an unfamiliar place.
It was the one place in the mansion she never wanted to set foot in. A space she wished she could erase from the world entirely.
