Chapter 2
Once the envy of every noble lady in the capital, I had now become the talk of the town.
It was as if everyone was waiting for this once-pampered flower to be cast aside, to wither and fade.
Furious and heartbroken, I pummeled Lincoln's pillow to shreds, vowing to give him a piece of my mind when he returned.
Biting back my emotions, I finally waited for the day of his return to the capital.
But early that morning, the steward hurried in with news: Lincoln had ordered him to prepare the Lakeview Pavilion.
For Stella.
All the blood seemed to drain from my body.
That last sliver of hope in my heart vanished instantly.
The Lakeview Pavilion, shaded by lush trees and bursting with flowers... we had promised it to our future eldest daughter.
He was breaking his promise.
I sat listlessly in the parlor.
Near noon, Lincoln's tall frame finally parted the curtain. His imposing aura remained as formidable as ever.
He walked closer, step by step, then lifted his official robes and knelt before me.
My worst fear solidified.
His voice was low and firm. "I must give Stella a proper status.
"She is a coroner. Her family background, her looks... none compare to yours. She will never threaten your position."
My eyes suddenly filled with tears.
How many years had it been since I'd seen Lincoln like this?
At home these past years, he had indulged me in everything, but to the outside world, he was decisive and ruthless.
When had he ever been this... humble?
My maid Ruby stood by, her face etched with anxiety, fearing the distress might harm my pregnancy.
I brushed aside her supporting hand, stood, and walked to Lincoln, forcing him to look up at me.
I said, "You return after months away, yet you ask not if all is well at home, nor if the child in my womb is healthy.
"Your only thought is to take a concubine?"
Lincoln pressed his lips together, his eyes full of guilt and reluctance, but the words that came out were brutally clear. "Not a concubine... but to make her my equal wife."
I clenched my fists, staring steadily at Lincoln in his crimson official robes, his posture lowered so deeply.
My mind flashed back to him at eighteen, the newly crowned Imperial Laureate.
That year, my grandfather had passed suddenly. Father received orders for an unexpected posting to the southern frontier.
No one could decipher the Emperor's intent. Rumors swirled that our family had lost favor, that we were falling.
Mother wanted me married quickly during the brief mourning period, so I wouldn't have to observe the full three years of filial piety or suffer the hardships of the southern post.
Instead, I took the betrothal documents and tokens to the Hart family to break the engagement.
Lincoln refused. He begged me for more time.
In the days that followed, he worked almost without sleep, and finally emerged top-ranked in the palace examination.
He became the first Triple Crown Laureate in our dynasty's history.
On the day of his victory parade, I went to see.
But I was accidentally pushed into the street.
A look of sheer panic crossed Lincoln's face. He dismounted and rushed through the crowd toward me.
Back then, his eyes held only urgency and heartache for me, not daring to overstep.
After ensuring I was unharmed, he offered a restrained, solemn bow.
He said to me, "I have not disgraced my promise."
He laid all his glory at my feet, so I would not be looked down upon by other noble ladies after my grandfather's death.
So my parents could entrust me to him with peace of mind as they left for their posting.
That day, Lincoln was like a warm beam of light, pulling me from the darkness.
Now, here he was, kneeling before me with red-rimmed eyes, asking me to accept him giving his name to another woman.
Just this past February, our eldest son, at only nine, had topped the county exams, becoming the capital's celebrated prodigy.
My husband was but one step away from joining the Emperor's inner council.
My life had been so perfect.
Why did he have to strike this blow when I was at my happiest?
I wiped my tears haphazardly and looked Lincoln in the eye. "Is there some... compelling reason? Some hardship forcing your hand?"
He shook his head slowly. "It is the call of the heart."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "Whether I agree or not, you will marry her. Is that it?"
Lincoln said nothing.
But the pressure in his gaze was unyielding.
I closed my eyes, taking a step back.
The man before me, tempered by a decade in officialdom, was no longer the sharp-edged youth of his days.
He was steady, reserved, his every word and action carrying the composure of one in authority.
He had once said that in this world, besides the throne and his parents, only I could make him kneel and bow his head.
He knew I was soft-hearted.
And I knew he was forcing my hand, pushing me to yield.
My voice choked with a sob. "Must it be this way?"
Lincoln sighed softly. "My Lady, you will always be the one I treasure most.
"What we have is inseparable. I will honor and love you all my life, always putting you first.
"But Stella..."