I couldn’t bear to see her so changed. The confident woman I’d known seemed broken because of me, and I couldn’t stay by her side. I buried myself deeper in work.
And she unraveled further.
Years after our marriage, we finally had a child—a beautiful daughter who resembled her.
Her birth brought me immense joy, but I was terrified she’d end up like her mother. If my daughter changed because of me, I wouldn’t be able to endure it. I thought keeping my distance might be best for her happiness.
Looking back, it was a foolish notion, but at the time, it felt like my only option.
I distanced myself by ignoring her.
After years of searching, I finally traced my missing brother. But I was too late—he was already gone from this world.
I learned he’d been with a woman. I sought her out, but she, too, had disappeared.
Another agonizing wait began.
After scouring far and wide, I found her trail—only to learn she, too, had passed. Once again, I was too late.
Self-loathing crept in. Nothing went as planned. The woman had borne a child, my brother’s.
I moved to bring the child into our family, but there was a problem. Imperial law barred children born out of wedlock from being formally registered.
With my brother dead, the only way to bring the child into the family was to adopt him under my name. I went to my wife to seek her consent.
“No,” she refused.
I was at a loss for how to persuade her.
“He’s my brother’s blood. How can I abandon him?”
“Liar!”
She didn’t believe me, her suspicion and anger flaring. I was used to being misunderstood, but this time, it stung and frustrated me like never before.
“No! No! I won’t allow it!”
“Madam!”
She hurled whatever she could grab at me. Objects shattered loudly. The nanny, rushing in, tried to calm her.
The nanny, brought from my wife’s family, was her childhood friend and confidante. Even my wife, lost to her madness, listened to her.
The nanny had taken over managing the household, as my wife no longer could.
Though it irked me to have an outsider handle family affairs, she was indispensable to both my wife and Bijonne, my daughter.
My wife, who lashed out at me, would soften like a lamb under the nanny’s soothing words.
Without her, no one could manage my wife.
So, I turned a blind eye to the nanny’s embezzlement, instructing the steward to keep her in check without taking action.
It was all I could do for my wife and daughter, who relied on her so deeply.
But today, even the nanny’s calming words seemed ineffective.
“I’ll bear your son! Your son will come from me!” my wife screamed, venom in her voice.
I tried explaining it wasn’t about needing a son, that the child wasn’t like that, but she was beyond reason.
“I’ll kill them all—your mistress, your child, everyone!” she shrieked.
Her venomous resentment left me speechless.
Where had it all gone wrong? Was it a mistake to keep her by my side? What was I to do now?
Bang!
The door burst open, and my daughter entered.
I was startled—she never came near this place. She looked between me and her mother, eyes wide with shock.
Though I wondered why she’d come, I suppressed my curiosity and hurried out. No matter how broken we were as parents, I couldn’t let her see us fight.
In my study, I rifled through papers, but the words blurred. Images of my wife and daughter flickered in my mind. Exhaustion hit, and I pressed my eyes shut.
“Are you alright?”
The steward, who’d served me for years, read my silence. He placed a steaming cup of tea before me.
I downed the scalding tea in one gulp. The heat burned down my throat, easing the suffocating tension slightly.
No matter how tired I was, there was no time to rest. Work piled up like a mountain, but registering my brother’s son came first.
As I steeled myself to review documents, the door flew open.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was—her sweet, childlike scent filled the room.
“The young miss is here,” the steward announced.
I glanced at her, pretending to focus on papers. Her small lips pouted, clearly displeased.
She seems fine, I noted, observing her closely. As the physician assured, she showed no signs of harm.
Last night, someone had targeted her.
Though we rescued her unharmed, the moment I learned she’d been in danger, my heart plummeted.
I didn’t know who or why, but I swore to uncover the culprit and exact thorough retribution.
Why is she here?
She usually avoided me, wary even of meeting my gaze. Her seeking me out sparked both curiosity and unease.
Yet, the fact that she came to me made my heart flutter.
Is it about last night?
It must’ve been terrifying for her. I couldn’t just revel in her presence—I needed to address her fears.
“Would you like some tea?” the steward asked her.
She shook her head.
I tensed, unsure why she’d come. My mouth went dry despite the tea I’d just finished. The steward refilled my cup.
Pretending to sign papers, I lifted the cup with my left hand.
Her gaze pierced my face, prickling my skin. Keeping my eyes on the documents, I barely managed a sip.
“Am I really your daughter?”
I nearly spat out my tea. Her words blindsided me.
Not about last night?
I’d assumed that’s why she came, but this was completely unexpected.
The steward, equally stunned, nearly fumbled—a rare slip for him. Knowing I wasn’t alone in my shock was oddly comforting.
I lifted my eyes from the papers to meet hers.
She seemed unaware of last night’s incident. Her focus was solely on my response to her question.
If she’d forgotten, that was for the best. Fearful memories were better erased. I resolved to ensure she never learned of it.
While I was lost in thought, her gaze remained fixed on my lips.
Her clear green eyes, like her mother’s, seemed to reproach me, leaving a bitter taste.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Her words sparked anger.
Who dared plant such nonsense in my daughter’s head?
I knew rumors swirled about her appearance.
I was furious but couldn’t act. Addressing the gossip would only amplify it, further hurting my wife and daughter.
Ignoring such vile rumors was the best course.
But if they’d reached my daughter’s ears, that changed everything. I couldn’t let it slide. I vowed to root them out.
I needed to comfort her, but I didn’t know how to begin. All I could do was feign calm.
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
Her immediate reply dispelled my tension. She didn’t seem as hurt as I’d feared.
Relief washed over me.
“Then go play your pranks elsewhere.”
The longer I was with her, the harder it became. I feared my words might wound her. I tried to say as little as possible, hoping she’d leave before I hurt her.
“It’s not a big deal to me, but if I want to rise to the top, it’s a problem.”
I stopped pretending to sign papers and looked at her.
Her green eyes were calm. Anger surged again. I swore to find whoever was feeding her this nonsense.
The Emperor had wanted to tie our families through marriage, even offering a princess as a concubine.
I found the suggestion unworthy of a response.
When I didn’t react, he changed tactics, proposing a union between the Crown Prince and Bijonne. That was recent.
“You want to be Empress?”
The Empress’s throne was the highest a woman could reach.
