Chapter 14
“About twenty years ago, I happened to meet a girl at a festival. That’s her.”
Franz explained, referring to the fictional mother of Claire, a story they had agreed on in advance.
It was true that he had helped a girl in danger and fallen for her at first sight. Mixing truth with fiction, he created a convincing story.
“In my youthful recklessness, I made a mistake, and recently I found out about a precious gift.”
“Precious, my foot! Do you have no shame? Calling a lowly thing with commoner blood a gift—!”
“Grandfather.”
Claire’s voice, clear and dignified, pierced through the Marquis’s yelling.
“Watch your words. You don’t even know who my mother was.”
“Hah! She was obviously a commoner. What else could she be!”
“She could be from a noble family. Maybe even the lost princess of a kingdom. Why not wait and hope for a windfall?”
“…You must know something, don’t you?”
The Marchioness narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Claire’s composed demeanor.
“About my mother?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t. She passed away when I was little. I barely managed to find my father after hearing about him.”
“Ha…”
The Marchioness sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead at Claire’s shameless response.
The Marquis crossed his arms and scrutinized Claire with disapproval.
“Tch! Her arrogant and vulgar behavior says it all. She’s commoner blood.”
“I don’t think so. Look closer.”
Claire, as if to prove a point, elegantly lifted her teacup. Her movements were flawless and poised.
The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to bless her, surrounding her with a saintly glow.
She resembled both the former Marchioness and Priscilla, whom Phoebe Ravello loathed and despised.
“What about this seems vulgar?”
“…”
The Marquis was left speechless. Even as a lie, it was impossible to call her actions vulgar when they radiated noble grace.
Franz, sensing that this was enough, placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder and stood up.
“We came today to introduce our Claire to you both. Now that you’ve met her, we’ll take our leave.”
“Wait! We cannot accept her, so annul the registration immediately!”
The Marchioness hurriedly grabbed his arm.
“She cannot have the Ravello name!”
“That’s not for you to decide. If anything, Mother, you aren’t even a Ravello yourself, are you?”
“…!”
The Marchioness was visibly shaken.
Franz had always been a timid and reserved child compared to Priscilla. He wouldn’t even respond, let alone talk back.
The Marquis stepped in for his stunned wife.
“Franz, you insolent boy! What kind of attitude is this!”
“It’s your wife’s fault. Acting petty makes me stoop to her level.”
“W-What?”
But even the Marquis was taken aback by Franz’s uncharacteristic boldness.
“So be careful from now on. I’ll give back exactly as I receive.”
Franz stood firm, no longer willing to endure their treatment.
Watching her younger brother, Claire felt proud.
‘He hasn’t wasted his years.’
To wrap things up, Claire smiled angelically and bid farewell.
“Grandfather, Grandmother, it was nice meeting you today. Let’s meet again.”
The Marquis and Marchioness couldn’t stop the two as they left. They simply sat there like statues.
Their visit to the Ravello estate accelerated the recognition of Claire’s existence.
Now, there wasn’t a single noble in the capital who didn’t know about Franz’s illegitimate child.
But this also brought unwanted attention.
***
First Avenue, where the royal family and high-ranking nobles resided.
Even there, the Muton Ducal House stood out as the largest and most extravagant estate.
As befitting the immense wealth of someone who owned a massive trading company, the outer walls of the mansion were gilded with gold.
From the outside, it glittered as brightly as the royal palace, but upon closer inspection, its reality was a little different.
“You miser! You cut expenses again!”
A woman with a striking coral-colored head of hair threw her teacup in anger.
Crash!
The glass shattered, scattering shards everywhere. The maids kept their heads bowed low, holding their breath.
“Ugh! So frustrating, so infuriating, so annoying!”
Even yelling hysterically didn’t calm her down. She grabbed a cushion and began hitting the maids with it.
Her name was Charlotte Muton. She was the third Duchess, succeeding the two previous Duchesses who had passed away.
Charlotte had originally been a poor baroness who, during the previous Duchess’s lifetime, had engaged in an affair with Brian Muton.
Her looks, considered among the top ten in her age group, combined with her coquettish charm, had captivated the Duke. Ultimately, she rose to the position of Duchess.
That was all fine, but the problems began afterward.
When they were dating, Brian had showered her with expensive gifts, treating her like a treasure. However, after their marriage, he changed completely.
“A noblewoman must be virtuous and frugal, supporting her husband quietly while being grateful for even the smallest things I give.”
“But you promised to spoil me if we got married…”
“What’s that? Are you saying you don’t need the money I’m giving you now, that it’s not enough?”
“N-No! You’re absolutely right, darling. I should live modestly and virtuously.”
Afraid that he might stop giving her any allowances, Charlotte didn’t protest.
As a result, within a year of their marriage, her monthly maintenance allowance began to dwindle.
“Hah, I thought becoming the Duchess would turn my life around… Well, it’s still better than my wretched old life, but it’s so frustrating.”
Charlotte had expected to live a life of luxury, freely spending the Muton Ducal fortune. She was sorely disappointed.
Still, she had no intention of divorcing him and took out her frustrations on the maids daily.
Thump!
After hitting her least favorite maid, Dorothy, hard on the head with a cushion, Charlotte dusted her hands off with a satisfied expression.
Dorothy, battered and bruised, silently cleaned up the shattered teacup and tidied the room before leaving.
As one of the late Duchess’s cherished maids, Dorothy was intensely disliked by Charlotte.
Suppressing the overwhelming emotions rising within her, Dorothy straightened her clothes and hair and returned to her duties.
Knock, knock.
She knocked on the Duke’s study door and entered, setting down a tray of tea.
Brian Muton sat at his desk, reading documents with a frown.
“Six months of consecutive deficits? What’s going on with the management of the trading company?”
Whether the maid entered or left, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he threw the papers at his assistant standing across from him with his hands clasped behind his back.
The papers fluttered to the ground at the assistant’s feet as he closed his eyes tightly.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
“Do you think a mere apology can cover your incompetence? Do you want to be fired and end up on the streets?”
“I deeply apologize. The person who originally managed the company’s finances is no longer with us…”
“Then bring them back!”
“That… That would be the late Duchess.”
At the mention of the wife he had killed with his own hands, Brian’s expression twisted.
It had been over a year since Priscilla’s death, yet her presence resurfaced whenever he least expected it.
As the long-time mistress of the Muton household, Priscilla had left a void that Charlotte couldn’t fill in a short time.
Knowing this didn’t stop the Duke’s chest from feeling tight. He bit down on a cigar and lit it.
“Ever since Priscilla died, nothing has gone right.”
The trading company’s profits were steadily declining. The power of their blessings was inexplicably weakening, and the household itself was in disarray.
“Charlotte is cute and lovable, but that’s all. She doesn’t contribute to the company or help with my work. All she does is think of ways to spend money.”
The Duke sighed, exhaling cigar smoke.
When he had remarried a month after Priscilla’s death, everything had seemed fine. But as Priscilla’s absence became glaringly obvious, he began to miss her competence painfully.
“If I’d known it’d be like this, I would’ve let her live.”
If he’d kept her alive and used her talents, it wouldn’t have been so bad.
He’d acted too rashly, killing her in a fit of anger when she dared to defy him.
“If Charlotte were even half as capable as Priscilla, how much better things would be. Don’t you agree?”
The Duke sought agreement, but the assistant gave an awkward smile and diverted the topic.
“Well, at least the current Duchess has a better relationship with the young master and the lady.”
“Don’t even bring up those useless brats.”
The Duke’s expression darkened, and his voice dropped ominously.
When he first noticed the weakening of his blessings, he’d thought Evelyn had finally awakened.
But…
—
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