Chapter 1

After four childless years in Graham family, I had become the laughingstock of the Capital. Meanwhile, my husband's favored mistress had given birth to three sons in a row and climbed higher with each one.

My husband even held one of those boys and pointed at my face as he called me a jealous hen sitting on a nest without laying a single egg. He swore he would cast me aside and make her the lawful wife instead.

Everything changed after he was injured in a fall. The doctor checked his pulse, dropped to his knees in terror, and announced that Lord Graham had been born unable to father children.

In the dead silence that followed, my husband looked at the courtyard full of children chasing after him and calling him Father, then coughed up a mouthful of blood on the spot.

I had been married into Graham family for four years, and still, I had no child. Yet my husband Charles Graham's mistress, Lily Lewis, had already borne him two sons in three years.

Today was the christening party for her third son. The entire Graham Manor was decked out in festive colors, and every trace of joy in the air stabbed into my heart like a needle.

My name is Margaret Sinclair. I am the lawful wife of Graham family, and also the biggest joke in the entire Capital.

I sat in the seat of honor wearing the scarlet ceremonial gown of the Lady of the house, graceful and proper, yet as lifeless as a puppet with no soul.

Emily Graham held the newborn grandson in her arms, smiling until she could hardly close her mouth. Beside her, Lily stood in pink, every glance and smile dripping with smug delight.

She kept one hand on two-year-old Maxwell Graham while three-year-old Benedict Graham ran around at her feet. All three boys were being raised under her name and crowded around Charles, calling him Father in bright little voices.

Charles held the youngest and teased the oldest, the picture of a happy family of five. And I, the lawful wife, looked like nothing more than an extra decoration that did not belong there.

The guests looked at me with pity or mockery, and their whispers buzzed into my ears like gnats. Every single word felt like a poisoned blade carving into my heart.

"See that? Lady Margaret looks furious."

"Four years without even a hint of a baby. No wonder Lord Graham favors his mistress."

"Lady Lewis is the blessed one. Three sons in three years. She's the real hero of this house."

"If it were me, I'd have stepped aside long ago instead of sitting in the Lady's seat like a hen that can't lay eggs."

Under my wide sleeves, I clenched my hands until my nails bit into my palms. I couldn't lose my composure. I was the heiress of House Sinclair, married by the King's decree, and behind me stood the century-old honor of the Sinclair family.

Lily came over carrying the baby and gave me a sweet little curtsy. "Margaret, look at Rupert. Doesn't he look like Lord Graham?

"Why don't you hold him for a bit? Maybe some of this good luck will rub off on you, and next year you'll give Lord Graham a legitimate son too."

Her voice was soft and honeyed. Her meaning was not.

This was bragging. More than that, it was a challenge.

I looked at the wrinkled baby in her arms and felt absolutely nothing. I did not reach out. I only said, "You should hold him yourself. He's still too little, and I'm not exactly gentle."

My indifference clearly set Charles off. After several rounds of drinks, he was already drunk when he strode over with Maxwell in his arms, his handsome face twisted by liquor and rage.

He looked down at me, his eyes filled with nothing but contempt and disgust. "Margaret."

His voice was not loud, but it carried through the hall. "What's with that attitude?

"Lily kindly let you hold the baby, and you repaid her with that funeral face? Who the hell are you showing it to?

"Do you think the food and wine at Graham family are beneath the heiress of House Sinclair?"

The whole hall fell silent at once. Every eye turned to me, as if a hundred spotlights were pinning me to a pillar of shame.

I lifted my head and met his gaze. "Charles, that isn't what I meant."

Charles sneered, his voice rising. "Not what you meant? Look at you. Sour-faced, fake, and jealous to the core.

"Lily gave this house heirs and worked harder than anyone, yet all you've done as the lawful wife is glare at her and make her life miserable."

He jabbed a finger toward my face and hammered out each word. "Listen well, Margaret. Don't think being the heiress of House Sinclair means I won't deal with you.

"You've been married into this family for four years and still couldn't give me a single child. You're nothing but a hen sitting on the nest and not laying a damn egg."

The word hen exploded in my ears like thunder. My blood turned cold. Four years of swallowing my pride and bending myself into knots had earned me this humiliation before a full house of guests.

I saw Emily turn her face away and pretend not to hear. I saw Lily lower her head, though the smug curve of her mouth gave her away.

I saw the guests looking on with open delight at my misery, and in that instant, it felt as though my whole world had collapsed.

Yet Charles still was not satisfied. As if the disgrace he had already piled on me wasn't enough.

He hoisted Maxwell high and addressed the entire room. "My sons are all bright and healthy.

"Lily is the greatest contributor to the Graham family."

Then his sharp gaze landed on me again. "Once Rupert turns one, I'll petition for a divorce and cast out this jealous shrew.

"I'll make Lily my lawful wife and the true Lady of Graham family."

Boom. The last string in my mind snapped.

Divorce me. Make her the legal wife. So that was their real purpose today.

This banquet had been a trap from the start, carefully arranged to grind me into the dirt so completely that I would never rise again.

My whole body felt frozen, as though I had fallen into an ice pit.

Then, in the middle of that dead silence, a servant came tumbling in with panic written all over his face. "Something terrible happened."

He dropped to his knees, nearly crying. "Lord Graham, Mr. Richard Graham fell from his horse in the rear courtyard."

What?

Wait. Richard Graham?

There was only one man in this family known by that title.

Charles's younger brother, Richard Graham, Heir of Graham family, and the King's own nephew.

Charles's expression changed instantly. "What did you say?"

The servant shook as he answered, "Mr. Richard Graham fell from the horse and passed out on the spot. The doctor is on the way."

The hall erupted. Charles dropped the child in his arms and bolted out like a madman. "Richard."