Chapter 117: The Confession
I have to protect my child…
Though the pregnancy was unplanned, Claire loved her unborn baby. Her affection for Oscar had naturally extended to the child growing inside her, and even after his betrayal, that love remained unshaken. She was determined to protect her baby at all costs. The fault lay with Oscar, not the innocent life she carried.
“I’m so sorry, my lady. You can curse me, strike me—I have no excuses,” Claire said, tears streaming down her face as she bowed her head in apology after confessing everything.
Aracila let out a silent sigh. Claire had been coerced with threats against her child’s life—how could Aracila reprimand her when she felt nothing but pity? If Claire hadn’t complied, Oscar might very well have made her disappear without a trace.
Gazing at Claire’s defeated, downcast figure, Aracila spoke softly. “Claire, I’m going to help you.”
“…How?” Claire asked, her voice hesitant.
“I’ll ensure your child is recognized and protected as a Vandermir. But in return, will you help me?”
Let’s take down Oscar Vandermir together. Aracila extended a steady, pale hand.
Claire hesitated, then clasped it firmly. With the truth already exposed, there was no turning back.
Oscar lounged on a sofa, legs crossed, chuckling as he read a newspaper article lambasting Damian. The fall of the revered knight was nothing short of exhilarating. When he first learned of Claire’s pregnancy, his immediate thought was to eliminate her to bury the truth. But then, a brilliant idea struck him.
Wait a minute! If I pin this on Damian, it could drive a wedge between him and Aracila. Maybe even lead to a divorce.
After failing to seduce Iris, Oscar had stayed in the capital, keeping his presence hidden from his family. Deep down, he dreaded their reaction if they learned of his actions. To avoid their wrath, he needed a significant achievement—something like orchestrating Damian and Aracila’s divorce. But their marriage seemed unshakable, and he’d been at a loss for a plan… until Claire showed up, pregnant, claiming he was the father.
Truth be told, Oscar had often used Damian’s name while carousing in the capital, targeting only commoners who couldn’t distinguish between the two Vandermir brothers. It was a precaution to keep his escapades from reaching his parents’ ears, a way to indulge freely by impersonating his despised half-brother. He’d even done it in the Vandermir ducal estate—it was practically second nature.
Until now, it had caused no trouble. Commoners wouldn’t dare spread rumors about a noble, and Damian’s clean reputation meant little scrutiny. But Oscar never imagined he’d make the catastrophic mistake of impregnating a commoner.
Turning crisis into opportunity, he coerced Claire into sowing discord in Damian’s marriage, all while he sat back and reveled in the chaos. Hmm, but I haven’t heard much about their marriage falling apart.
He’d expected a proud, self-assured woman like Aracila to erupt in fury over Damian’s supposed infidelity, demanding a divorce or at least sparking a feud. Instead, their response was eerily subdued.
If this plan fails, I’m in trouble.
Oscar knew he couldn’t fully pin the child on Damian—his half-brother wasn’t the type to silently accept false accusations. Once the goal of breaking up the couple was achieved, Oscar planned to deal with Claire quietly, when public attention waned.
Or maybe I should just kill her now and frame Damian for it.
As he mulled over this grim possibility, a message arrived from Claire:
“I have something urgent to discuss about the child. Please come to the Flair Theater tomorrow at 2 p.m. Come alone. It’s the only way to keep our secret safe.”
“What’s with her, summoning me like this?” Oscar muttered, annoyed, though a sly smirk tugged at his lips. If no better plan emerged, this could be the perfect chance to eliminate Claire. As long as his safety and reputation were secure, he didn’t care what happened to the child.
Oscar Vandermir was a man who loved himself far too much to feel any paternal affection for an unborn child. Selfish and cowardly, he valued only his own interests above all else.
The Flair Theater was closed every Thursday, and today was Thursday. Oscar stepped into the darkened building, his face twisting in irritation. He was annoyed at Claire for dragging him out here for what he assumed was a pointless errand. In the eerily quiet space, where even a small cough echoed, he scanned the room for her.
There she was, standing alone in the center of the stage. He strode toward her without hesitation. “What’s this about? I’m a busy man, so this better be important,” he said, crossing his arms and cocking one leg arrogantly, his chin tilted upward.
Claire looked up at him slowly, her voice trembling as she spoke. “You told me, didn’t you? That if I said my child was Lord Damian’s, you’d let me live.”
“Wait a second,” Claire said, her voice steady despite the tremor beneath it. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t just want my life spared—I want something more.”
Oscar let out a sharp, incredulous breath, his eyes narrowing as he raked a hand through his hair. “Have you lost your mind? What do you want? Money?”
“No,” Claire replied, shaking her head firmly. “I want my child to be officially recognized as a Vandermir.”
She added, her tone resolute, “If you do that, I’ll keep quiet about the fact that you’re the real father.”
“Are you joking?” Oscar exploded, his face flushing with rage. “Asking me to register your child in the family means admitting I’m the father!”
Claire remained calm, unshaken. “It doesn’t matter if the father is you or Lord Damian. As long as my child isn’t branded a bastard on paper, that’s enough.”
But Oscar couldn’t accept this. Would Damian ever agree to register someone else’s illegitimate child as his own? Not a chance. The man was unyielding, even under pressure from the family. For the child to be officially entered into the Vandermir lineage, it would have to be under Oscar’s name—and that was unthinkable. He hadn’t the slightest intention of taking responsibility for his own child.
“Promise me you’ll register my child as a legitimate Vandermir,” Claire pressed. “If you don’t, I’ll reveal that you’re the father.”
“You’re completely insane, aren’t you?” Oscar sneered, clutching his forehead as his face contorted in disgust. Being threatened by a commoner he’d seen as nothing more than a fleeting amusement grated on his nerves. He pounded his chest, his voice rising. “I’m the eldest son of the Vandermir ducal family! The heir apparent! And you think I’d claim a child like yours? Tarnish my life with that kind of stain?”
“It’s your child too,” Claire shot back, unwavering. “I didn’t get pregnant on my own. You have to take responsibility.”
Her steadfast resolve didn’t falter, bolstered by advice she’d received: show even a hint of weakness, and he’d pounce.
Oscar scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. “What a joke. A no-name actress strutting around with your nose in the air, and yet you’re no better than a street girl.”
The biting insult made Claire’s lips tremble, her pride stung. She glared at him, her voice sharp with defiance. “And you, scattering your seed wherever you please—how’s that any different?”
“What did you say?” Oscar roared, raising his hand threateningly.
Claire flinched, shrinking back, but her retreat was cut short as her back hit the wall. With nowhere left to go, she drew in a shaky breath. Oscar stepped closer, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Fine. If you’re so eager to die, I’ll make it easy for you.”
He wasn’t bluffing. He’d brought a few hired thugs with him, waiting near the carriage outside. Once he gave the order and left, they’d handle the cleanup discreetly.
“You’d be so heartless to the mother of your child?” Claire asked, her voice quivering but defiant.
“Who cares?” Oscar snapped. “Who’d want a child tainted with commoner blood? Just let it stay Damian’s bastard and disappear. My reputation will remain untarnished, so it’s no concern of mine.”
Claire’s eyes, brimming with tears, bored into him. She’d known he was this kind of man, but seeing it confirmed with her own eyes cut deeply, the disappointment and hurt overwhelming. Gritting her teeth, she said, “If you don’t register my child, I’ll run to the papers and expose everything.”
“I’ll make sure you never get the chance,” Oscar retorted coldly.
“You can’t,” Claire countered. “I’ve already arranged for a friend to deliver a letter confessing the truth to the press if I don’t return by five o’clock.”
“—What?”
Oscar’s expression shifted instantly, his smug confidence giving way to fury. He’d thought eliminating her here would end the matter, but her precaution enraged him. “You really want to die, don’t you?”
Half-driven by anger, half-intending to intimidate, he clenched his fist and slammed it against the wall behind her.
Then, something astonishing happened. With a creak, the pristine white wall began to tilt backward, slowly giving way.
It wasn’t a real wall—it was a false partition.
With a heavy thud, the partition fell away, revealing an astonishing sight. Dozens of reporters stood there, notebooks in hand, staring at the pair with gleaming eyes and perked ears, as if unwilling to miss a single detail of a breaking story.
Oscar’s face went blank as he took in the scene, his mind struggling to process what was happening. Then, a clear, melodious voice cut through the silence.
“Well, look who’s got the whole theater to himself.”
Aracila, seated among the reporters, leaned back in her chair with a slanted posture, muttering to herself as she shot Oscar a disapproving look. Beside her sat Damian.
Only then did Oscar register their presence, his jaw dropping in shock. “Y-you… how are you here…?”
“Lord Vandermir, could you keep it down?” Aracila interjected smoothly. “We’re in the middle of a press conference.”
“What… what are you talking about?” Oscar stammered.
“Damian’s been unfairly caught up in this illegitimate child scandal,” she explained, her tone leisurely as she glanced at the reporters scribbling furiously. With a bright smile, she added, “Thanks to this, we’ve cleared things up nicely.”
“…”
Oscar’s face drained of color as he replayed his own words in his head, realizing the trap he’d walked into. His eyes darted frantically between his brother, Aracila, and the reporters. When his gaze finally landed on Claire, the truth hit him like a blow—she’d conspired with them to lure him into this ambush.
“You… you dare betray me?” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Claire, his voice thick with indignation. “You think you’ll get away with this?”
He spoke as if he hadn’t been plotting to kill her himself, his emotions overriding reason, momentarily forgetting the reporters’ presence.
“The one who deceived wasn’t Claire—it was you,” Aracila said, rising from her seat and gently pulling Claire behind her. Her voice was soft but carried a taunting edge. “And you shouldn’t be threatening the mother of your child. It’s not a good look.”
Infuriated by her mocking tone, Oscar took a step toward her, but Damian swiftly stepped in front of him.
“Keep your distance, brother,” Damian said, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “You know my sword tends to move faster than my words.”
“…”
As a sword master, Damian’s threat was no idle boast, and Oscar faltered, retreating a step. He stood there, uncertain, his eyes darting as he struggled to find a way out of the mess.
Seizing the moment, the reporters swarmed him like a hive of bees.
“Lord Vandermir! Is Claire’s child really yours?”
“Why did you impersonate your brother? Was it intentional?”
“Are you saying you’ll pay Claire off and abandon her and the child?”
The barrage of questions hit Oscar like a storm, his face turning ashen as if he might collapse. “No… it’s not me…” he mumbled weakly before suddenly spinning on his heel and bolting for the exit. With no immediate solution to the crisis, he chose physical escape to avoid the overwhelming situation.
“Lord Vandermir! Wait!”
“Answer our questions before you go!”
“Everyone, after Lord Vandermir!”
The reporters surged out of the theater in pursuit, their voices echoing as they chased him. In an instant, the once-crowded space fell silent, leaving only Aracila, Damian, and Claire in the empty theater.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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