Chapter 84
Angela stood in the garden of Florence Manor, locked in a curious standoff with a brown rabbit that had appeared out of nowhere.
She had been strolling when their eyes met, and something about the creature’s curly brown fur reminded her of Mary.
Alternating her gaze between the rabbit, which showed no sign of fleeing, and Mary, who was trailing close behind her, Angela suddenly spoke to the rabbit.
“Mary.”
At that, the real Mary, standing nearby, looked up at Angela and said, “Yes?”
“Mary.”
But Angela didn’t so much as glance at her, instead extending a palm toward the rabbit and crouching down.
Perplexed by her mistress’s odd behavior, Mary mimicked her, squatting beside her with a pout.
“Mary’s right here, my lady,” she said, her lips pursed.
Only then did Angela let out a soft chuckle, gesturing with her eyes toward the rabbit ahead.
“Look over there. Doesn’t its curly brown fur look just like you?”
“No, it doesn’t!” Mary shot up, her voice indignant. For reasons she couldn’t quite articulate, being compared to such an adorably fluffy rabbit felt deeply unfair.
“Not even a little! I’m—go on, shoo!”
Though she raised her voice at Angela, her mistress, Mary couldn’t bring herself to yell at the small creature. Instead, she spoke to it in a gentle, coaxing tone. The rabbit, however, had already begun to hop away the moment Mary’s voice grew loud. It seemed as displeased with the situation as she was.
“Wait a moment. Don’t go. Stay still,” Angela said.
She had only spoken because she felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of Mary—the rabbit—leaving.
But the moment the words left her lips, the rabbit, which had been bounding off, froze in place as if its paws were glued to the ground.
“Huh?”
Mary, sensing something peculiar, cautiously approached the rabbit.
She studied it from every angle before giving its soft, fluffy side a tentative poke. Still, the rabbit didn’t budge.
Angela, who had been observing the scene as keenly as she might scrutinize a Dawson family secretary, suddenly understood.
This was the power to command animals. Glancing at Mary, who was looking at her with bewildered eyes, Angela made up her mind and spoke to the rabbit again.
“Come here.”
At her words, the rabbit sprang to life, as if infused with new energy. It bounded toward Angela, its hind legs propelling it forward with vigor.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Angela asked.
Mary, watching the rabbit nuzzle Angela’s hand, pouted again. Then, with determined steps, she crouched beside the creature and began to lecture it.
“You’re not the real Mary. I’m Mary. When my lady calls for Mary, that’s me. You can’t go getting confused about that.”
She spoke as if worried Angela might whisk the rabbit off to her room. Mary seemed intent on establishing a hierarchy between herself and the creature.
“You’re Rabbit Mary, got it?”
Angela, amused by Mary’s earnest attempt to secure a promise, couldn’t help but laugh.
“I wasn’t planning to bring it inside anyway, so you don’t need to make it swear to anything,” she said.
“You’re not going to keep it in the manor?” Mary asked, surprised.
“It’s a creature of the outdoors. It’s better off living out here…”
Angela’s thoughts trailed off as a new idea struck her. What if she let the rabbit do as it pleased? If her power could work like this, why not test it? Fixing her gaze on the rabbit’s eyes, she spoke.
“Go wherever you want. But if you come inside the manor, I’ll pamper you until you’re as plump as her.”
Angela nodded toward Mary. The moment she finished speaking, the rabbit darted off without a hint of hesitation, vanishing into the distance.
Angela let out a wry chuckle at the absurdity of it, then turned to see Mary’s face light up with a radiant, relieved smile.
She reached out and gently pinched Mary’s cheek.
“What am I going to do with all this jealousy?”
“But I’m Mary!” Mary protested. “And I’m much better at my job than that rabbit!”
Angela nearly teased her, thinking to herself that a maid less capable than a rabbit would be utterly useless.
But seeing Mary happily rubbing her pinched cheek, Angela decided to let it slide.
Afterward, Angela continued her walk, her mind turning to the power she had just wielded.
If she could control animals, could it work on Kalian, too? He was, after all, a beast in his own way.
She was mulling this over when a commotion broke out near the entrance of Florence Manor.
Her steps naturally carried her toward the noise.
“What’s all this fuss about?” she asked.
Kalian was away at the palace.
Though they weren’t yet married, Angela was his fiancée, and in his absence, she held full authority over Florence Manor.
No one would dare challenge that. At her arrival, the manor’s servants immediately bowed, as did those embroiled in the dispute at the gate.
Upon closer inspection, Angela recognized familiar faces—knights from Bilton Manor.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
As she spoke, the guards of Florence Manor hurried to her side, standing protectively close. The air crackled with tension, as if a fight could erupt at any moment.
“Step back. All of you, step back,” Angela commanded, addressing the Florence guards first, then the Bilton knights.
Both groups retreated slowly, their expressions reluctant.
“Someone who can explain this situation clearly, step forward,” Angela said, her voice firm as she ensured a safe distance between the two groups.
From among the Bilton knights, the eldest stepped forward.
He knelt on one knee near the hem of Angela’s dress and spoke with deference.
“His Grace the Duke requests your presence, Lady Angela. Please come with us.”
“Absolutely not!”
Before the knight could finish, a maid from Florence Manor shouted in protest.
“Our lord explicitly forbade sending the lady to Bilton Manor,” the Florence Manor maid declared.
At her words, the Bilton knight’s gaze sharpened, pinning the maid with a fierce glare.
“Bilton Manor is where Lady Angela was born and raised. Moreover, she hasn’t yet formally wed into the Florence family, has she? What reason could there be for her not to go? Strictly speaking, she’s merely a guest here. Her true home is Bilton Manor.”
The knight’s words stretched on, his tone resolute. But the Florence maid was not one to back down.
“Hah! Have you conveniently forgotten how you nearly buried our lady alive? Calling a living, breathing person a corpse, threatening to entomb her? You expect us to trust people like that with her safety?”
The mention of Angela’s near-death silenced the Bilton knights, their lips pressed into tight lines.
That incident had been a shocking ordeal for them too.
Had Kalian not intervened, storming in to rescue Angela, they might have buried a living woman alive. The thought alone was horrifying.
But what could they do now? An apology for that past mistake wouldn’t absolve them from carrying out their lord’s current orders.
Though they didn’t fully understand his motives, their master now desperately needed Angela.
“My lady, His Grace the Duke wishes to see you. We’re not asking you to stay forever—just to come and hear him out. Please, His Grace is wasting away day by day, and it’s tearing us apart.”
Angela bit her lip, her mind screaming to wait for Kalian.
Yet, the emotional plea ugged at her heart, leaving her conflicted.
Dominic had always had this effect on her, stirring a tangle of contradictory feelings. He turned her into a paradox.
Despite never sharing anything warm or kind, his mere title of “father” was enough to unsettle her.
“Damn it,” Angela muttered under her breath.
The harsh word drew a collective flinch from everyone present.
Even Mary swallowed hard. Angela, avoiding their gazes, wrestled with her thoughts before finally making her decision.
“Just for a moment. I’ll return to Florence Manor.”
The Bilton knights’ faces lit up with relief, while the Florence Manor servants looked as though something precious had been snatched from their grasp.
* * *
The last time Angela had visited Yvonne, Kalian had been waiting at the entrance, and she hadn’t ventured deep into Bilton Manor.
Now, stepping inside, the oppressive weight of the manor’s atmosphere pressed down on her shoulders.
Dozens of ornate angel statues seemed to greet her with silent stares.
Unable to muster a wave in return, Angela kept her eyes forward, moving toward Dominic’s chambers.
“Come in, my dear,” Dominic called out.
He had clearly been informed of her arrival, as an extravagant meal was already laid out in his lavish room.
Though it was lunchtime, the sight of food in Dominic’s chambers made Angela’s stomach churn with sudden nausea, as if she’d been struck by severe motion sickness.
“Why are you just standing there? Come, sit,” Dominic said, oblivious to her discomfort.
He gently pulled her hand, guiding her to the table.
Sitting across from him, Angela felt her stomach twist and lurch, the sensation growing stronger.
“What did you call me here for?” she asked, sitting up straighter to mask her unease.
Dominic offered an awkward smile, one so unfamiliar it felt like he was wearing a stranger’s face.
It was as if she were sitting across from a man cloaked in a mask.
“You’ve been staying at Kalian’s manor for so long, I’ve had no chance to see you, even though I’m right here in the capital.”
His words dripped with a fatherly warmth that felt utterly out of place. Angela, startled by the dissonance, spoke quickly.
“It’s me, Angela.”
Dominic blinked, as if her words hadn’t fully registered. She repeated herself, enunciating clearly to ensure he understood.
“Not Beatrice. Angela.”
The Angela you despise. The Angela you can’t bear to look at. Grace’s daughter, Angela.
At this, Dominic’s face contorted with what seemed like shock, though Angela couldn’t discern its nature. At first, she thought he was acknowledging a mistake—perhaps he had meant to summon Beatrice and called for her by error. But soon, a fragrant glass of wine was poured for her, and tempting dishes were set before her, clouding her understanding.
A salad was placed close by. Though it carried no strong scent, an overwhelming wave of revulsion surged within her. Angela leaned back slightly and spoke again.
“If this isn’t a mistake, then tell me why you called me here.”
“I told you,” Dominic replied. “I just wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
Her persistent questioning made Dominic pause, his gaze locking onto hers. For a moment, he was speechless, caught off guard by the near-terror in Angela’s eyes. It was a look that mirrored one he’d seen in a dream, and it left him frozen, unable to respond.
“If you have no reason, I’ll take my leave,” Angela said, pushing her chair back and rising hastily. She couldn’t bear to sit across from him any longer—her stomach wouldn’t hold out.
As she turned to go, Dominic sprang up and grabbed her arm. The sudden contact sent a violent shudder through Angela’s body, and she collapsed to the floor, her frame wracked with convulsions as she retched. With nothing in her stomach, nothing came up, but that only made the ordeal worse. Clutching her mouth, choking on stifled sounds, Angela trembled for what felt like an eternity.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Dominic asked, his voice laced with concern.
“…”
“What are you all standing there for? Fetch a physician!” he barked at the maids.
One of the maids had already darted off, but Dominic, too preoccupied with Angela, didn’t notice.
“It’s alright. You’ll be fine,” he soothed, his voice relentless in its attempts to comfort her.
But that voice only deepened her collapse. As Angela tried to stand, her strength gave out, and she crumpled to the floor like a marionette with cut strings.
“Angela!” Dominic cried, his voice desperate.
Why do you call my name with such urgency?
Angela couldn’t fathom it. All that surfaced in her mind was the memory of his cold, emotionless gaze as she ate a poisoned meal. There was nothing good between them to outweigh that memory.
