Chapter 3

My family survived, but it was left in ruins. My parents never recovered from the shock and passed away one after another.

From that day on, I was no longer the bright and spirited Victoria Grant I once was.

I knew Curtis was soft-hearted and easily swayed, which made him a prime target for schemers.

To protect him and the Baker family, which was barely hanging by a thread, I put away all my softness and stepped up as the lady of the house, wielding authority without hesitation.

I managed all his social connections and helped him navigate the treacherous waters of the political scene.

I kept those with hidden agendas outside the door, one after another.

I sheltered him under my wings, making sure his career flourished and the Baker family stayed safe and sound.

I always thought Curtis truly understood me.

But I never realized that while I was busy protecting everything else, I was only pushing him further and further away from me.

Blood gushed from my mouth, splattering across the stone tiles like a crimson flower blooming in despair.

*****

By the time I returned to our manor, night had already fallen.

The east wing was ablaze with light, and silhouettes flitted across the room.

I casually flagged down a maid carrying a basin of hot water. "What are you all busy with at this hour?"

The maid nearly dropped the basin, her face going ghostly pale as she stammered, "M-My lady... Duke Curtis is in a lot of pain, and Miss Myrtle Nicholls is tending to him herself... She asked for hot water..."

She kept her head down, avoiding my gaze.

One look at her terrified face, and I knew exactly what was going on.

Using the excuse of applying medicine...

I stood there, and could vaguely hear voices coming from the east wing.

"Ah... Curtis, hang in there, I will be gentle..."

"Myrtle, you're the best... Not like some people, whose hearts are harder than stone..."

"Curtis, please don't say that about Victoria... She's only thinking of your well-being... Ah... Curtis, please stop..."

What followed were barely suppressed, heated breaths and moans that made anyone listening blush.

I'm yours.

Back then, on our wedding night, he kept holding me and asking me to say those words again and again.

He said, "Victoria, I'm yours."

I whispered, blushing, right in his ear, "Curtis, I'm yours, too."

That night, he was like a greedy kid, never satisfied, always wanting to hear it one more time.

Now, he was holding another woman close, whispering those same promises he once made to me.

It was as if a cold, merciless hand gripped my heart, crushing it until I could hardly catch my breath.

I had no idea how long I stood outside the courtyard, until my hands and feet were numb with cold.

The door to the side room creaked open.

Curtis stepped out, draped in a loose robe, his neck and collarbone covered in obvious love bites.

His face was still relaxed and sated as he called out, "Why isn't the water here yet?"

But the moment he saw me, his voice stopped short.

The relaxed look on his face instantly turned to panic. He hurried over in a few quick steps, reaching for my hand, not knowing what to do.

"Victoria! What are you doing here? My—my foot hurts so much, and Myrtle was just worried about me, that's all... Go ahead, hit me! Yell at me if you want."

I watched him scramble to explain, saw those obvious signs all over his body, and felt the last bit of warmth in my heart turn cold.

I gently withdrew my hand, my tone so detached it was as if I were talking about someone else's life.

"Why would I hit you?

"You're the duke. Do whatever you want; it's your right."

Curtis froze, staring at me in disbelief. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

I forced a smile, but it was uglier than crying. "I said yes myself, didn't I?"

Curtis studied my expression, making sure I wasn't about to fly into a rage like I usually did. This time, there was nothing but calm in my eyes.

Only then did he truly let out a breath, feeling an odd surge of control and satisfaction rise within him.

'See? As long as I stand firm, she'll be obedient and sensible,' he thought to himself.

He held my hand, his usual gentle tone laced with a barely noticeable hint of complaint.

"Victoria, you really do mean something to me. But honestly... you're just too overbearing.

"Look at the other wives in the circle. Aren't they all soft-spoken and sweet, always so gentle?

"I'm not saying you're a bad person, but all these years, you've been making me do things your way. I'm just exhausted.

"At least Myrtle is gentle, caring, and she always does whatever I ask..."

Fighting back the pain twisting inside me, I asked in a low voice, "Curtis, do you even remember the first time I ever made you do something?"

Curtis froze, his mouth opening as if to answer, but he couldn't remember at all.