“…Fabi.”

“If we’re going to revisit the past, let me remind you—everything was legal.”

“….”

“After uncle passed, my father lawfully inherited the title of Duke. As a result, I became the rightful Lady of the Bowell family. You know very well that you hold no legal claim to the Bowell estate. That’s the law of Hestian.”

“….”

“Instead of casting you out with nothing, we arranged a marriage with the Count. We even sent you to the monastery as you wished. Despite the fact that you were meant to spend your life in penance there, we generously placed you in the position of Grand Duchess of Croatan. Shouldn’t you be grateful to the Bowell family for that?”

The expression on Fabiola’s face showed no sign of understanding what might be wrong with her statement. Astrid realized that her words were neither intended to mock nor provoke her.

Fabiola genuinely believed it—without a shadow of doubt—that she had bestowed countless gifts upon Astrid, rather than taken anything away.

The moment Astrid grasped this truth, she felt as though she were standing before an impenetrable iron wall.

‘What can you say to a wall?’

Had Astrid been of age when her father passed, the situation might have been different. Even if she couldn’t have succeeded the duchy or inherited all the assets, she could have claimed a portion. Above all, she wouldn’t have been forced into such a marriage.

Her uncle, unwilling to part with the share Astrid would eventually inherit, sent her off to the Count’s house less than a year after her father’s funeral.

It was as if he were discarding something useless.

Her first marriage had been rushed and conducted entirely against her will. Pushed into it like a straw doll with no agency of her own, Astrid couldn’t care less about how her uncle or Fabiola regarded that marriage. The events in Hestian were buried in her heart, nothing more than a stale, distant memory.

Arguing about the past wouldn’t prick even the tiniest sliver of guilt in them.

‘People don’t change so easily.’

Astrid had no desire to dredge up the past. She wasn’t willing to waste her precious life seeking revenge.

‘But when it comes to the present, it’s a different story.’

The one who placed her in the position of Grand Duchess of Cliff was none other than Caleb Lionel. It was the people of Cliff who accepted her as their mistress and Grand Duchess. And it was Astrid herself who had worked tirelessly to earn their recognition.

She had no intention of boasting about it. Yet, she could say without shame that she had lived as the Grand Duchess of Cliff with no regrets. Before Caleb, before the people of Cliff, and before her late father’s name, Astrid could hold her head high. Her uncle and Fabiola had no part in her accomplishments—not even a shred.

The only person who had opened a new chapter in her life, her sole savior, was Caleb Lionel.

‘If Caleb hadn’t extended his hand to me then, I…’

As Fabiola said, she might have spent her life confined in a corner of the St. Francesca’s Convent library, like an old, damp bookcase reeking of mildew.

It was Caleb who had lifted her life from the shadows into the light. Since then, Astrid had fought her own battles every day to stand on her own two feet. Though she never showed it to others, each day was a grueling struggle.

‘It was unfamiliar, frightening, and cold.’

When Caleb left to subjugate monsters, Astrid had to rise above all her fears, standing alone.

Fabiola dismissed all those painstakingly built days, denying them as if they were nothing, with absurd ease.

“Don’t speak as you please. The person who made me who I am today is not the Bowell family.”

Feeling Astrid’s glare, Fabiola let out a derisive laugh. To her, Astrid’s unyielding demeanor had remained unchanged from the past, stubborn to the point of exasperation, deaf to well-intentioned advice.

“Still as ungrateful as ever, I see. Do you know how humiliating it was? To leave in such a rush before even receiving the Pope’s approval!”

“That was…!”

“What? Did you perhaps sleep with that barbarian already?”

“Fabiola!”

Astrid’s voice rose in anger, but Fabiola remained unfazed.

“You should be thankful that His Holiness didn’t make a big issue out of it. Barbarian Caleb Lionel aside, how could you bring such disgrace upon the Bowell name? Whether it took a year or ten, you should have waited for the approval!”

Astrid squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see Fabiola anymore, nor did she want to hear her voice.

“I don’t care about your opinion. So leave me alone, Fabiola. I won’t concern myself with you either.”

“I’m only saying this for your sake.”

“Let’s just go our separate ways.”

“Hah! So you’ve completely fallen for that barbarian, haven’t you?”

“…What?”

“You actually trust him?”

“Don’t you dare speak ill of Caleb!”

Astrid’s raised voice caused Fabiola to glare at her sharply, her expression fierce.

“A disgrace to the Bowell family.”

“…”

It was not a new insult. Instead of engaging, Astrid chose silence, firmly shutting her mouth. Her response only fueled Fabiola’s anger.

“Duped by that barbarian and unable to see straight. What good is your cleverness if you’re this foolish? The man you’re so enamored with brought Elena Blevit to Cliff’s doorstep, didn’t he?”

“That’s…”

“I’m tired.”

“…”

Pressing her temples with her fingers, Fabiola sighed irritably.

“I won’t waste my breath. Divorce Caleb Lionel.”

She said it as casually as offering tea or dessert. Her tone, devoid of any emotion, drained the blood from Astrid’s face.

“Fabiola!”

Astrid’s face turned pale, almost tinged with blue, as she shouted. Her half-hoarse voice carried anger that had been suppressed for a long time, condensed into a bitter intensity. However, Fabiola didn’t so much as flinch.

Astrid’s heart began to pound violently. She tried to calm her anxious thoughts, convincing herself that it was merely another one of Fabiola’s whims or tantrums that often surfaced over trivial matters. But her erratic heartbeat showed no sign of settling.

‘I’m the one who should’ve rotted away in the convent, yet here I sit as the Grand Duchess. It must bother her so much that she’s throwing this fit,’ she thought.

She wanted to believe it was nothing more than a petty tantrum.

‘Something feels… off.’

A strange nausea welled up inside her. As Astrid stood there, trying to steady herself, Fabiola, who had been watching her intently, spoke again.

“Pull yourself together, Astrid. The woman the Grand Duke has chosen is Elena Blevit. The Blevit family is one of the most prestigious noble houses in Croatan, and Elena is their eldest daughter. Though she declared herself unmarried and left her family long ago, the moment she returns to society, there will be a line of men proposing to her.”

“…….”

She should’ve argued back, but the more Fabiola spoke, the harder it became to breathe, let alone respond. Perhaps it was because Fabiola’s words weren’t wrong enough to dismiss as mere mockery.

“Even setting aside her noble lineage, Elena is remarkable on her own. I heard that the annual income of the Red Blossom Mercenary Guild she leads is equivalent to that of the entire Cliff estate. She’s nothing like you, who came with empty hands.”

“……!”

“Caleb Lionel and Elena Blevit. You have eyes, don’t you? Surely you can see how well they suit each other.”

“That’s none of your concern—”

“I’m advising you as the Lady of Bowell and your only sister. Write the divorce papers first and demand alimony. Do it before you’re kicked out in disgrace.”

“……Caleb told me I’m the only Grand Duchess of Cliff. Even if Caleb and Elena are lovers, that doesn’t change. So stop meddling in this matter.”

“Is that your way of loving the Grand Duke?”

“……!”

The words hit Astrid like a hammer to her chest. A single, scornful remark crushed her heart completely.

Throb. Her wounded heart ached suddenly and intensely, but Astrid straightened her posture, pretending to be unaffected. She couldn’t let Fabiola see her crumble.

“……What are you talking about?”

“If the Grand Duke marries Elena Blevit, it would benefit everyone. Don’t you think? The Grand Duke’s position will solidify, and you’ll be free to live your life away from Cliff. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“…….”

“Stop clinging foolishly and step down. Without you, everyone will be happier.”

Her tone was as soft as ever, but the words she spoke were as cold as ice.

“……Why are you saying this to me?”

“I told you, I’m advising you as your sister. Besides, if you give up your title as Grand Duchess, we’ll never have to see each other again. Isn’t that what you wanted too?”

“…….”

“Rotting away in a convent would be far worse. Take the alimony and move to a third country. Just don’t ever let me see you again.”

“…….”

“Not for my sake. For the sake of the Grand Duke you love—divorce him.”

“……Stop it.”

Astrid’s face was deathly pale, and her voice had become faint. She looked on the verge of collapsing, yet Fabiola didn’t stop.

“Stop clinging to a man who doesn’t love you. It’s pathetic, using his pity to keep holding on. Think of it as your final gift to him—the divorce papers.”

Even though Fabiola was the queen, Astrid had no reason to listen to her. This was outright tyranny, a clear overreach of authority.

‘I just need to ignore her.’