Chapter 3

He rose to his feet, picked up the cloak from the daybed, shook it out, and draped it over my shoulders.

His expression was gentle as he spoke. "Meeting Stella... it feels like I've come alive again.

"A woman, yet with a spirit rivaling any man's. That scalpel in her hand is like a sword that cuts through to the truth. It gives the dead a voice... It's truly admirable.

"My Lady, in my youth, I pursued fame and rank to build a shelter for my mother, for you. For ten years in office, I've been disciplined and dutiful, never stepping out of line.

"Now, I just want to live for myself, this once."

That night, Lincoln settled in the front courtyard.

Ruby came to tell me that Stella hadn't actually entered the mansion but was staying at an inn.

She recounted, with vivid detail, the news the servant had brought back.

She said, "That girl does have some propriety. When Mr. Hart went to the inn to fetch her, he didn't even get to see her face.

"All he got was a message: 'It wouldn't be proper.'

"Seems this idea of an equal wife is more Mr. Hart's one-sided enthusiasm."

I shook my head. She didn't understand Lincoln.

For him to say to me today, "I must give Stella a proper status," he must have already reached an understanding with her.

He never made a move without knowing the outcome.

And because of this incident, Stella's reputation for purity and integrity would surely spread even further.

I hadn't even met her, yet her name alone had already backed me into a corner.

It was hard not to suspect that Lincoln was laying the path for her, stone by stone.

I dismissed the servants and lay on the daybed, staring wide-eyed until dawn.

The pain in my heart was unbearable.

I hated Lincoln for being so faithless.

And I hated myself for trusting and relying on him so completely all these years.

The knife that wounded me... I was the one who handed it to him.

I remembered the year I turned fifteen, coming of age. To avoid the imperial consort selection, my grandfather personally took his attendants to 'catch a grandson-in-law under the proclamation.'

The imperial exams had just concluded. Grandfather left for half a day and returned beaming.

He told me of a candidate from Ashbourne, a man of profound learning.

Now the top graduate of the metropolitan exam, one foot already in the Imperial Academy.

A future of immeasurable promise.

Curious, I sneaked off to the inn the next day and bumped into him right in the main hall.

I heard the innkeeper call him "Mr. Hart," and then address me as "Miss Murray."

I shyly stepped aside; the tips of his ears turned bright red.

I led him to a private room and spoke bluntly, "The Dowager Empress has long intended for me to enter the palace.

"My grandfather's 'catching' is to marry me off quickly, to escape the selection.

"Marrying me... might well draw the palace's displeasure, hinder your career."

Lincoln, however, laughed.

Then he stood and bowed deeply. "If you are willing to tie her future honor and disgrace to me, I make you this promise.

"I will never give you cause for regret."

I stared at him, dazed, and for some reason, found myself nodding.

The very next day, Lincoln brought his mother to formally exchange betrothal documents with my grandfather.

Even after Grandfather passed and our Murray family lost its pillar, he never abandoned me.

For ten years of marriage, he never let me suffer a single hardship.

Even when I accompanied him to that harsh, remote posting, on winter nights, he would always warm my side of the bed first. Only after I fell asleep would he go to his study to handle official business.

But it turned out, even a love born in youth could not promise a lifetime together.

If only I hadn't been curious about him that day. If only I hadn't recklessly run to the inn that afternoon. How much better it would have been.

But I was no longer just Lincoln's wife. I was the mother of two children.

My husband's heart had changed, but I had to plan for my children.

The next morning, my eldest son Jonathan came to pay his respects.

As usual, I shared a meal with him, checked his school satchel, straightened his clothes.

He remained silent, letting me fuss over him.

Just before leaving, he suddenly hugged me. "Mother, I've grown up. You can lean on me now."

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with affection. "Grandfather told me before he left the capital, 'If your mother ever finds life in that mansion difficult, you must send word to me.'

"Wherever he is, he will ride day and night to come and take you away.

"You are a daughter of the Murrays first, and a wife of the Harts only after.

"I won't be the one to trap you here. And neither should Father, or the child in your belly."

Jonathan started his studies at three. From the age of six, he stopped calling me 'Mama' and, like a little pedant, addressed me as 'Mother.'

All these years, he was the only child in the family, the heir, the firstborn, everything.

Lincoln poured all his effort into cultivating him.

He no longer clung to me as he did as a child, no longer shared his thoughts with me, focusing instead on winning Lincoln's approval.

I thought Jonathan had grown up, closer to Lincoln.

I had secretly grieved over this.