“You’re awake?”
She was beautiful.
Alicia, who often preened at her own beauty in the mirror, felt like a mere pretty girl before Rebecca. Her marble-like skin seemed impervious to flaws, her golden hair gleamed as if woven from sunlight, and her blue eyes—deep as the sea—made Alicia want to hide when they crinkled gently. Staring at Rebecca’s rose-red lips, Alicia burst into tears.
Was it because she knew she’d never possess what Rebecca had? Or shame for intending to harm someone so kind?
Rebecca embraced her.
“It’s okay. Whatever’s happened, I’ll save you. Don’t worry.”
Her embrace was warm.
“Alicia! Today’s dessert was delicious. I brought some for you.”
Memories pierced Alicia’s heart like glass shards.
She hadn’t always hated Rebecca’s kindness—she wanted to stay by her side forever.
“You could be like her,” Octavio whispered relentlessly.
Her affection turned to admiration, then jealousy.
As Zeppelin’s gazes lingered, her ambition stirred.
I can be Rebecca.
That desire drove her.
Tears streaming, she raised the poisoned dagger.
“Please die, Lady Rebecca.”
As she swung, eyes shut, Rebecca’s eyes snapped open.
Blinking slowly, she asked, “Can you handle it?”
Startled, Alicia dropped the dagger.
Rebecca caught it swiftly.
“Careful. This is coated with deadly poison.”
“How did you…”
“Obvious, isn’t it? Were you really going to kill me, Alicia?”
Rebecca placed the dagger on the bedside table, gazing at her.
Despite blisters covering her face, her eyes sparkled more beautifully than ever.
Alicia, paling, wondered if “beautiful” could capture Rebecca.
“Alicia, why so quiet? Were you really going to kill me?”
Chewing her lip, Alicia confessed.
“Yes. I was.”
“Why? What did poor, frail me do wrong?”
Rebecca covered her mouth, feigning innocence.
Alicia realized she was mimicking her.
“Rebecca…”
Clenching her fists, Alicia spat venomously.
“You did something unforgivable—you have everything I want. I’ll take it all, no matter the cost.”
She glared defiantly.
Rebecca chuckled.
“Finally honest.”
“What?”
“I was waiting for you to show those cute fangs.”
Rebecca toyed with the dagger’s handle.
“So, who put you up to this terrible decision?”
“You’re not angry? I betrayed you—repaid kindness with evil!”
Rebecca’s eyes grew cold.
“I didn’t know you understood your wrongs so well.”
“Slap me! Or kill me with that dagger!”
Alicia lunged for it.
Rebecca struck her hand with a cane from the headboard.
“Not so fast.”
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want blood. And it’d be inconvenient if you died now.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Rebecca glanced at Alicia’s belly, thinking of her own child—nonexistent yet haunting her daily.
Alicia clutched her stomach.
“I don’t need your pity, Rebecca.”
“Pity? I’m not that kind.”
With a frosty smile, she pressed Alicia.
“So, why kill me? What made you so desperate?”
“I realized the count won’t make me countess. He wants an heir from you, divine illness or not. Grace is already preparing. Happy now? Thrilled?”
“Ha!”
Rebecca’s short laugh grew manic, head thrown back.
Alicia recoiled, terrified by her eerie demeanor.
Zeppelin, you’ve done it…
The worst future she’d imagined was real.
Not just a doll, Zeppelin now saw her as a breeding machine.
His weak stomach braving her touch showed newfound resolve.
Love? He’d never loved her.
A tear rolled from her left eye.
With half-glazed eyes, she looked at Alicia.
“Want it, Alicia? This cesspool?”
Flinching, Alicia bit her lip.
“You don’t know what a cesspool is.”
She recalled her life’s pain—her mother dragged away by a perverse noble, her powerless father, her mother’s cold corpse. Vowing not to live like her, yet trapped in the same fate.
As Rebecca’s tears flowed, Alicia’s belly ached with sobs.
Grabbing Rebecca’s collar, she screamed.
“How would you know a cesspool? Have you been passed among men? Do you know the despair of never dreaming of a happy family? How dare you speak of it?”
Wiping her tears, Rebecca met Alicia’s anguished purple eyes.
Rising, she suppressed her emotions.
“You still shouldn’t have done this to me.”
“Don’t come closer!”
Rebecca approached, cupping Alicia’s cheeks.
Her feverish hands reeked from burst blisters.
Alicia, meeting her empty gaze, vaguely sensed the weight of Rebecca’s reality.
“I liked you, Alicia. That’s why it hurt.”
“…”
“It hurt so much. I can’t forgive you. But…”
“Hic.”
Alicia hiccupped, overwhelmed by Rebecca’s heat.
Releasing her, Rebecca opened a drawer, retrieving a jar of tea leaves.
“We can walk the same path for a while.”
She pressed the jar into Alicia’s hands, smiling as Alicia once adored.
“I’ll give you what you want. Will you give me what I want?”
* * *
Back in her room, Alicia threw herself onto the bed, sobbing into her pillow.
“You wretched woman… Rebecca…”
She was furious—at spilling her heart, at failing to kill her, at being played again.
“I liked you, Alicia.”
Rebecca’s words forced open the sealed door of their memories.
Stopping her tears, Alicia surveyed her room: a massive bed, a rose-embroidered canopy, a wardrobe of lavish dresses, custom shoes, and jewels—Zeppelin’s luxuries.
She stared at the tea leaf jar.
Her belly stirred; the child thrived despite turmoil.
Stroking it, she whispered.
“I’m sorry, little one. Mommy won’t give up.”
* * *
The next day, the Devonshire estate was in chaos.
“Infertility?”
Grace shrieked at the doctor, who shook the tea leaves, looking troubled.
“This tea contains infertility-inducing components. Ten doses would show effects quickly, but you’ve taken it for over a month. So…”
“Oh…”
Grace staggered, clutching the wall.
Learning of Rebecca’s divine illness, she’d hoped she’d become a saint—then Grace could visit as a devout follower.
When Zeppelin tasked her with aiding Rebecca’s pregnancy, she was elated.
If Rebecca stayed, there’d be chances to recover.
She’d tried to cure her, believing time could heal anything. She couldn’t lose Rebecca like her daughter, Layla.
But now, that hope was gone.
Rebecca rejected sainthood and could no longer bear Zeppelin’s heir.
The doll she loved was now destined for the trash.
As Grace grieved, Octavio watched with keen interest, hands behind his back.
He’d expected tears, but not for infertility instead of death.
Glancing at Alicia, who smirked and whispered.
“This is my way, Octavio.”
