Cordelia simply smiled at the boy’s carefree way of speaking. She had once worried that he might behave this way in front of the butler and the other servants too, but it turned out that he only acted this way in her presence.

Just as she gave him the precious things she could never have herself, he acted freely around her, like a jester before a king. As she liked this, she never scolded him for it.

But Luke tilted his head and asked again.

“Why? Don’t you like it here? You’re the one who holds all the real power in this place, my lady.”

“The one who holds all the real power? That’s an amusing way to put it.”

“That’s what everyone says. You’re the Hardrian Rose, you have everything—”

“Please don’t say things like that. It’s unbearable.”

‘You have no idea how much I hate that title. I even hate that flower.’

Suddenly, the pain in her flogged calf flared up, causing Cordelia to shift her weight onto her other foot. However, she was a lady who had been taught never to show pain in front of others. Perhaps only Annie, her personal maid, had ever noticed.

Even without such lessons, though, Cordelia could never have brought herself to admit to Luke that she was in pain.

He had lost both his parents at an early age, struggled to survive, and risked losing his hand.

In his presence, her pain felt far too indulgent and luxurious. From a young age, Cordelia had understood that her suffering and loneliness were things that others could never truly comprehend.

So she brushed it off with vague words.

“I like it here, but… even so, it’s natural to sometimes want to leave.”

“Hm… I don’t get it…”

Luke crossed his arms and scrunched up his face again. But when he lifted his head to look at her, one corner of his mouth curled up.

“Then one day, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“You…”

“My lady.”

The boy who used to act like he had nothing in the world to fear. That boy, for the first time, blushed as he smiled.

And in that moment, Cordelia knew that this boy would become the brightest light in her entire life.

***

And just as that promise returned to her in the dream—

“…Ah.”

Cordelia woke alone in the false bridal home of the New Continent. Her eyes throbbed as if being pricked with needles—it was well past noon. Far past it, in fact.

“Ugh…”

She struggled to sit up, her hand sliding down to her lower abdomen. She was glad she had drawn the line at just one time.

She hadn’t expected that just because it had been a while, her body would ache this much and feel so drained.

But more than the lingering traces of Lucas, what lingered stronger was the confusion brought on by the dream.

In the dream of her beloved homeland, the last to appear had been Luke Davis—one of many footmen in the Hastings household.

He had been the closest in age to Cordelia, and because of that, they’d shared a kind of closeness within the manor.

But…

‘How could I have forgotten so completely?’

Cordelia brushed aside the strands of hair that had slipped out at her temple, a gesture of disbelief. Then again, as one grows older, the faces of childhood companions blur until they’re nothing but fog in memory.

And after her family’s downfall, hadn’t her life become nothing short of grueling?

She had spent those days clawing to protect her family’s honor, rejecting countless temptations to become someone’s second wife or mistress.

At the time, the thought of recalling the past felt like it would break her—so she hardened her heart and refused to remember anything at all.

Nevertheless, it’s astonishing how completely she could forget someone from her hometown.

Even the fact that his face had faded into such vagueness—it struck her as unbearably strange.

“Ugh…”

A wave of dizziness hit, and Cordelia pressed a hand to her forehead. Just then, the maids arrived to assist with her bath and looked at her all at once.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“Yes. It’s just the sunlight. Don’t worry about me. And I won’t be needing help with the bath.”

“Pardon? But, my lady…”

“Just help when I get dressed. Go tend to your duties now.”

She couldn’t go on living like before in this house built on lies. Cordelia, with her usual soft smile, gracefully extended her arm.

It was shameful, but the mark on the inside of her wrist was enough for the sharp-eyed maids to quickly bow their heads and exit in silence.

But the moment she returned to the bathroom, that smile vanished like it had never been.

“…Ha.”

Cordelia stared into the mirror, fogged and clouded by steam. The woman reflected there had disheveled hair, and her lips were marked from how much she had bitten and chewed at them.

The faint purplish bruises across her pale body once, they had brought a shameful kind of pleasure.

Now, they only felt like proof that she had sold herself off for cheap, just to repay her family’s debts.

Where had the woman gone—the one who once shone so brightly, mustering all her courage just to say she loved someone?

And then, as her gaze caught the pink diamond reflected in the mirror, a whisper surfaced in her mind, the gentle, devilish murmur she’d heard just before she drifted off into unconscious sleep.

“Don’t take it off anymore, my lady.”

To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like the words of a husband deeply in love. But now, Cordelia thought she understood.

A gem so dazzling was nothing more than a mark—proof that she had been caught in Lucas’s elaborate trap and reduced to a trophy.

And if she ever took it off again, no matter what it took, he would find a way to humiliate her and force it back on.

Just as her fingers were about to scratch at the mark left on her skin, Cordelia stopped herself.

‘No. I have to stay sharp.’

The most pitiful thing in this world was self-pity. After being cornered by survival once before, she had come to realize—there were far more people in the world suffering worse than she was.

Her husband had betrayed her, lied to her—so cruelly. But even so, there were those who endured far greater misery and still carried on. Even children abandoned by their parents found ways to feed themselves in this world.

‘I have to do the same. I have to become stronger.’

And so, when she emerged from the bathroom, Cordelia was, to all appearances, still the same Madame Duquesne as always.

Just as her introduction suggested—born into a family of noble lineage—she was graceful and composed, with not a single crack in her elegance.

***

The Vanderbilt family was known for owning several mansions, even among the elite who lived in the wealthiest districts.

It was their way of flaunting their fortune—providing each grown child a mansion of their own. And so Louisa, too, lived alone in a luxurious estate.

It allowed her to indulge in all the debauchery she pleased, though her parents—who still believed her to be their demure daughter—knew nothing of it.

But the visitor who came to see her that afternoon wasn’t a man to replace Lucas for a day, nor a familiar figure from her usual social circle.

“You must have found something terribly interesting to come all this way to see me, Alicia.”

“Of course. I thought it worth sharing right here in your very own drawing room, Louisa.”

Alicia, her eyes filled with quiet envy, glanced around the exotically decorated room. Even nobles from the Old Continent would struggle to imagine a life of such luxury. Wasn’t it madness that a common girl—not even a princess—could live alone in a house like this?

Still, she swallowed her jealousy and forced a pleasant smile.

“You must’ve heard just how much the esteemed Lord Duquesne longs for a grandchild, haven’t you?”

“Isn’t that the same for everyone? The whole point of marriage, after all, is to produce an heir.”

When Louisa gave a faint, unreadable smile, Alicia seized the moment and lowered her voice, lacing it with subtle implication.

“Louisa, do you realize just how ridiculous this is? A grandchild born from a woman who’s already the laughingstock of my hometown—how valuable could that possibly be?”

“……”

“And really, how much of a loss is this for Lucas as well…? When there’s a bride far more devoted to him, and capable of giving him so much more. Say… the mistress of this very mansion, for example.”

“Fufu. You’re far too kind with your words, Alicia.”

Though Louisa despised Cordelia most of all, she also quietly sneered at Alicia.

Cordelia was irritating in her hypocritical way—pretending not to discriminate between commoners and nobles whereas Alicia was the type to flaunt her superiority without shame.

Still, if they had one thing in common, it was that noblewomen, raised like greenhouse flowers, were often rigid and naïve. Or perhaps it was that they had a bone-deep belief the world would always bend to their will.

‘Fufu… looks like they’re hoping I’ll get involved and play the middleman.’