Chapter 169: Proxy Divorce
Inside the carriage rumbling back toward the estate, Aracila’s mind was a storm of confusion. She hadn’t imagined, not even in her wildest dreams, that Damian would greet her with a demand for divorce the moment they met. His cold dismissal stung, leaving her seething with resentment, disappointment, and a deep, aching hurt.
Yet, a part of her couldn’t shake the guilt his words had stirred. He’d said that nothing but trouble had followed since their marriage. Because of her, he’d made an enemy of Prince Frederick, faced threats to his life, and now languished in a dungeon. She had, undeniably, made his already perilous life even more difficult.
Pressing a hand to her throbbing forehead, Aracila let out a heavy sigh. She’d stormed out without agreeing to the divorce, but now she was at a loss for what to do next. She’d hoped their meeting would offer some clarity, a vague outline of a plan to move forward. But now? She was adrift, unsure of what would be best for Damian.
How do I help him? she wondered, closing her eyes wearily. She remained motionless until the carriage reached the estate.
“…What is this?”
Her troubled thoughts were shattered by the sight that greeted her upon returning home. The estate was in utter disarray. While she’d been visiting Damian, the imperial knights had descended, turning the place upside down. Servants stood around with helpless expressions, halfheartedly trying to rein in the knights who stormed through the house with reckless abandon. Their pleas for care went unheard.
The butler, hovering near the staircase, spotted Aracila frozen at the entrance and hurried over. “Milady, an hour ago, the imperial knights arrived to search the estate,” he said, his face etched with distress. “I begged them to wait until you returned, but they wouldn’t listen.”
Aracila’s already sour mood darkened further, her expression hardening. How dare they barge into her home without so much as the courtesy of her permission? She strode purposefully toward the central hall, where Joseph Miller, deputy commander of the imperial knights, was directing his men to ransack the estate with impunity.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
Joseph turned, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Ah, Lady Vandemir, you’ve returned. I’m Joseph Miller, deputy commander of the imperial knights.”
“Sir Miller, take your men and leave my house at once,” she said, her tone icy.
The words were hardly polite, but who could blame her when uninvited intruders had stormed her home? Joseph’s eyebrow twitched, and he lifted his chin arrogantly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. We’re here to secure additional evidence related to Lord Oscar Vandemir’s murder.”
“And that gives you the right to invade a home without its owner’s consent?” Aracila shot back. “At the very least, you could’ve asked for permission.”
“Your husband didn’t ask permission before killing someone, did he?” Joseph sneered. “You’re asking too much. The imperial knights are here on lawful authority.”
He pulled a document from his coat and thrust it toward her—a search warrant for the Vandemir estate, stamped with the imperial seal. Aracila bit her lip, her anger simmering as she handed it back, forcing herself to speak calmly. “I don’t understand why you need to tear my home apart for more evidence.”
“We’re determining whether Sir Damian’s crime was impulsive or premeditated,” Joseph replied. “Either way, the punishment will be severe.”
He smirked, and Aracila found herself unable to counter his lofty justification. With Damian already branded a murderer, her hands were tied. The sight of Joseph’s mocking grin infuriated her, yet she could do nothing but stand there.
“I suggest you don’t interfere further, Lady Vandemir,” Joseph said, his tone laced with a threat. “Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to respond harshly for obstructing official duties.”
With that, he brushed past her, barking orders at his men to leave no corner unchecked. Aracila clenched her fists, powerless to stop him. Audrey quietly approached, gently grasping her arm.
“Milady…”
“I’m fine, Audrey,” Aracila said softly. “Tell everyone to stand aside for now.”
There was no point in confronting the imperial knights at this moment—it would only make things worse. She gathered the servants and led them to one side of the central hall, her eyes, dark and heavy as a midnight lake, tracking the knights as they hauled items around.
They scoured every inch of the estate, even the kitchen, with meticulous intensity. It seemed excessive for a search for additional evidence, especially since they’d already secured what they claimed was the murder weapon. Yet Joseph and his knights were collecting everything they could lay hands on, as if searching for something else entirely.
“Milady, the imperial knights are also raiding the Crimson Hawk Knights’ headquarters simultaneously,” Colin whispered, having slipped into the group unnoticed.
Aracila nodded, signaling her understanding. They must have coordinated the raids to prevent any evidence from being hidden. But the more she watched, the more their actions felt overzealous. As the knights seized anything remotely suspicious, a thought crossed her mind: I’m so glad I listened to Father.
Following her father’s advice, she’d immediately tasked Colin with sorting through Damian’s documents, selecting the most critical ones and transferring them to the Hugo estate for safekeeping. It had meant two sleepless nights, poring over papers until her eyes ached, but it was worth it. Had she delayed, everything would likely have been confiscated by now. Hiding her premarital contract separately had been an especially wise move, given that the knights were rummaging through not only Damian’s study but also the bedroom she primarily used.
It was another two hours before the imperial knights finally concluded their search. The estate was left in shambles—trampled, upturned, and utterly wrecked. As the servants scrambled to restore order, Aracila sat in the relatively untouched drawing room, facing Colin.
“Is the search at the knights’ headquarters over too?” she asked.
“Yes, milady. Sir Wind sent word just now. They cleared out Sir Damian’s entire office before leaving,” Colin replied.
“I’m not the only one who thinks this is excessive, am I?” she said, her voice low.
“No, milady. I agree. It felt less like they were looking for evidence of the murder and more like they were after something else,” Colin said.
Aracila propped her chin on her hand, her gaze dropping as her slender fingers tapped the wooden armrest of the sofa. “Damian placed great importance on the Vandemir investigation files and the Dome Company ledgers. Which one do you think they’re after?”
“Since they’re using Lord Oscar’s case as their pretext, it seems likely they’re targeting the former, but something feels off,” Colin said. “Sir Damian always found the latter peculiar and kept it separate for a reason.”
“Did he? Then I’ll need to take a closer look,” Aracila said.
The Dome Company ledgers had been classified as confidential from the start, so she’d set them aside without much scrutiny. To review them, she spent a restless night in the disheveled estate before heading to the Hugo estate the next day to retrieve the documents. But no sooner had she stepped inside than she was confronted with unexpected news.
“Aracila, this arrived for us early this morning,” the Marchioness said, her face pale as she handed over a document. “Is what’s written here true?”
Aracila’s expression hardened as she read it. Damian had requested a proxy divorce through the Hugo estate, explicitly stating that their marriage was a contractual arrangement. The document read:
“Aracila Hugo and I entered into marriage based on mutual interests. The premarital contract, notarized at the temple, will confirm this. I have determined that continuing this marriage no longer serves any benefit, but as Aracila Hugo has refused to agree to a divorce, I request that the Hugo estate act on her behalf to draft the divorce agreement promptly.”
Aracila clenched her jaw, her anger flaring as she finished reading the formal request. Damian Vandemir, that infuriating man. Realizing she wouldn’t easily consent to a divorce, he’d sent divorce papers to the Hugo estate within a single day. The audacity of it burned.
But she had no time to curse him now. Her family stood before her, reeling from the truth they’d just learned. Behind her mother, her father and sister appeared, their faces heavy with questions. Aracila sighed inwardly. Her head was already pounding, and now her husband had only added to her burdens. She could almost thank him for making her life even harder.
Folding the divorce request in half, Aracila spoke calmly.
“Yes, it’s true.”
“What? You…!”
The Marchioness clutched the back of her neck, staggering. Marquis Hugo quickly moved to support his wife, whose blood pressure had spiked dramatically.
Wrapping his arm tenderly around her shoulders, he turned to his daughter with a darkened expression. “Aracila, what on earth were you thinking to do something like this? No one in this family forced you into marriage.”
“You’re right, no one did. It was entirely my own choice.”
“Why? What reason could you have? What mutual benefit did you and Damian share?”
“Well…”
Aracila’s eyes flicked toward Iris briefly. Revealing here that it was for her sister’s sake would devastate Iris. Unwilling to wound her unnecessarily, Aracila concealed the true reason and offered an excuse. “At the time, marrying Damian just seemed like the best thing for me. So please, ignore the divorce request. I… I’m not ready to divorce him yet.”
She spoke resolutely. Though the words Damian had said to her yesterday still shocked and confused her, she had resolved to prioritize saving him.
Once Damian escaped this crisis, she would grant him the divorce he wanted.
The Marchioness, who had been leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder, straightened abruptly at those words, her face etched with horror. “What are you saying, child? You need to divorce him immediately!”
“Mother, Damian didn’t kill Lord Oscar, I’m telling you. I don’t want to divorce him now.”
“Who said anything about divorcing because of that? Be honest—did you volunteer for the marriage knowing about the promise between your grandfather and the late duke?”
Aracila was momentarily speechless under her mother’s probing. It was true; she had learned of it through her prophetic dream and sacrificed herself accordingly.
Sensing something from the divorce request, the Marchioness pressed her daughter further. “Who told you to do that? Why did you make such a decision alone, without telling us, and keep it hidden all this time?”
“…Because it was something I could handle on my own.”
“And that justifies lying to your whole family and entering a fake marriage? How could you do something so deceitful? Did I raise you to be so reckless, Aracila?”
Enduring the sharp rebuke in silence, Aracila suddenly felt a surge of resentment.
She hadn’t married Damian lightly. It was a decision born from intense deliberation, driven by her determination to save Iris.
Her family mattered more to her than her own life, even if it meant personal loss.
“I wasn’t being reckless. I thought it through rationally—it was the best path for everyone.”
“That’s exactly what makes it reckless! You decided on your own what was best for us!”
The Marchioness’s piercing shout struck like lightning.
She was deeply agitated, the joy she’d once felt believing her daughter had found a loving partner now rendered hollow. Patting his wife’s shoulder soothingly, Marquis Hugo added his voice. “Aracila, I have to agree—this isn’t right. I’ve always been proud of your independence since you were a child, but handling such a major matter unilaterally, without consulting anyone, is deeply disappointing. Does our family mean nothing to you?”
“No, Father, that’s not it. Please don’t say that. You know how precious our family is to me…”
“If we’re so precious, why didn’t you say anything?”
Aracila’s words caught in her throat again. She moved her lips, then desperately explained, “I just… thought that if I married Damian, it would spare you and Mother the trouble of a political marriage, and Iris wouldn’t suffer needlessly. It seemed like a good solution.”
“How selfish. In the end, you acted on your own under the guise of doing it for us.”
“…”
“Divorce Damian, Aracila. We never intended to force a political marriage on you. Undo this sacrifice you made on your own whim.”
Hearing her father’s stern tone after so long, Aracila clutched the hem of her dress tightly. She couldn’t argue against her parents’ words.
Though it had been to save Iris, it was true that she’d proceeded with the contract marriage without a word to her family, deceiving them all along.
But she couldn’t back down now. Shaking her head, Aracila spoke after a long pause. “…I can’t divorce him, Father.”
“Why not?”
“If I divorce him now, Damian will be left alone. I can’t coward away and leave him in danger.”
“We’ll help Damian even if you divorce.”
Aracila’s shoulders jerked in surprise at her father’s unexpected response.
“Even if it was all a pretense, we’ve grown fond of him, and I don’t want you labeled as someone who abandoned her husband in peril.”
“Then, doesn’t that mean there’s even less reason to divorce right now?”
“Aracila, this marriage wasn’t born of love. Do you really think you can overcome such a massive crisis as husband and wife?”
The Marquis’s voice was laced with skepticism.
In noble society, political marriages were fragile, easily shattered when interests diverged.
With Damian accused of fratricide, their arrangement no longer balanced out.
No matter how mature she seemed, to the Marquis, his second daughter was still childlike in his eyes, and he couldn’t let her continue down this misguided path.
“I’m asking if you’re confident you won’t end up resenting each other.”
Aracila had no reply. As her father said, she and Damian were bound by calculation, not love.
Given that one side had already expressed regret, she couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t come to resent him later.
“It might be better for both of you to part ways now, Aracila.”
“…”
“With that in mind, I’ll prepare a proxy divorce document. Go upstairs and rest.”
Supporting his exhausted wife, the Marquis turned away first.
Aracila stood rooted to the spot for a long while. For the first time, everything was unfolding completely against her expectations.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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