‘Lies…!’

Saronne stared at them in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock. The woman with the delicate presence clinging to her husband as if frightened by the crowd. She was the one carrying his heir?

This was the first time that Saronne had heard about it.

Not once during the time she was getting to know Diego—nor after their marriage—had he ever mentioned having an illegitimate child.

Their once scandalous relationship was long consigned to the past — a love that ended due to an insurmountable barrier of status.

‘She even married that fringe noble, Viscount Benit!’

But the more Saronne tried to reason it out, the colder her chest grew.

There had been times when her curiosity got the better of her, and she’d quietly asked the servants for news about his first love…

But over time, Vivian had faded from her thoughts.

That is, until she vaguely recalled hearing that Vivian Benit had been widowed.

‘So that’s why he’s been away on that long trip lately…? He went to see her?’

Why now, of all times?

As questions swirled in her mind, her gaze drifted once more to the woman’s face.

Brown hair and green eyes weren’t exactly rare in the world but there was no denying it. Vivian and Saronne shared an uncanny similarity in their air and presence.

What could that possibly mean?

What kind of madman would marry a woman who reminds him of his first love?

Unless there was some hidden motive…

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her entire body.

A dull yet searing ache began in her belly.

‘Diego…!’

Unable to bear the overwhelming scene any longer, Saronne called out to him.

“Ah, Saronne. There you are.”

Diego approached with a smile as soon as he saw her. But even as he did, he pulled Vivian closer by the waist—for all to see.

With the same gentle gaze he once reserved only for Saronne, he now turned toward the woman at his side and said,

“You must’ve been so worried about not having an heir. But you don’t have to carry that burden anymore. Vivian’s child will be the successor of House Lois.”

His declaration sent ripples of murmurs throughout the room.

For a moment, Saronne felt as if the floor had fallen out from beneath her.

“What are you talking about? Wait! The heir should be—”

“I know you have a lot to say, but I’d prefer to talk about it later.”

He spoke in a curt and dismissive manner, as if her words weren’t worth hearing.

“Vivian isn’t familiar with the social scene in the capital yet, so I need to help her with quite a few things.”

Then, without the slightest hint of hesitation, he added—

“Oh, and I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to give up the first dance. It’ll be with Vivian.”

“W-What…?”

“You have other guests to mingle with, don’t you? But for Vivian… I’m the only one she has.”

Diego continued, his voice laced with mockery.

“You should understand. She’s the one who gave me a rightful heir, and soon, she’ll be part of this family.”

‘Part of this family?’

Stunned, Saronne turned to look at the woman clinging to his arm.

Their gazes met — Vivian’s green eyes were similar in colour to his, but paler and softer.

She didn’t look like a widow at all, but rather like a young girl — far too youthful and delicate. Suddenly, her wide, doe-like eyes turned towards Diego.

She clung to his arm with a gentle squeeze. As if further conversation were unnecessary, Diego brushed past Saronne, taking Vivian with him.

Left standing alone, Saronne felt the weight of countless glances cast in her direction.

‘What… what is happening…?’

The sudden, relentless shocks had left her reeling. Then, without warning, her vision spun.

For a fleeting moment, she nearly lost her balance—but caught herself just in time by grabbing the nearby pillar.

“Ugh…”

A stabbing pain erupted in her abdomen—far worse than before. A splitting headache soon followed.

Instinctively, Saronne clutched her belly.

‘Why… why is this happening now…?’

She felt the color drain from her face, her breath growing ragged.

She tried to hold on and push through it, but when her vision began to blur, this final act of resistance became futile too.

‘I… I can’t… not anymore…!’

Unable to bear the pain any longer, Saronne fled the banquet hall. Her departure was met with countless heavy gazes.

The doors shut with a thud behind her as she rushed aimlessly down the corridor until she finally reached a parlour far from the crowd.

The moment she stepped into the quiet room, she collapsed, her legs giving way beneath her.

“Ugh… haah…”

The pain in her abdomen was so intense that it left her mind blank. It was only then that she realised she was drenched in cold sweat.

Gasping for air, she stared into the void with unfocused, dizzy eyes.

‘Diego… how could you…’

Just thinking his name made her bite down hard on her lower lip. She felt like she would burst into tears if she didn’t cry.

He had brought back the woman who had once been his first love.

To make matters worse, he said she resembled her.

And what about the heir?

Shock, betrayal and fear hit her all at once, crashing over her like a tidal wave.

‘…Who knows what rumors will begin to spread about House Lois now…’

Saronne lowered her head and gripped the armrest of the sofa with trembling hands.

That was when—

—the door creaked open behind her, letting in a pale light from the hallway.

Still trying to steady her breathing, Saronne turned around, startled.

A tall figure stood there, outlined by light that contrasted starkly with the dark room.

It was a broad-shouldered, imposing man.

Saronne knew instantly that it wasn’t her husband.

Her eyes widened in alarm. He was the man who always caused a stir whenever he appeared at the Duke’s banquets.

Prince Leobint Clamir — or, having stepped away from the royal family, the Sub-Duke of Hethrian.

‘Why… why is he here…?’

Startled at first, Saronne quickly tried to get up from where she had collapsed. She couldn’t be seen like this in front of a guest.

“Duchess Lois. Allow me to assist you.”

But before she could get far, he crossed the room in a few short strides and gently prevented her from stumbling.

With a polite and composed touch, he supported her by the arm and shoulder, helping her to her feet.

“Ah… thank you.”

Saronne offered her gratitude, then instinctively stepped back, conscious of the contact.

Yet his gaze followed her, steady and deep.

For some reason, it felt as though those blue eyes were studying every inch of her face.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes… I’m fine…”

She forced herself to reply, turning her head away. The thought that all the guests had just witnessed something so unbelievable — something she could barely comprehend herself — was unbearable.

“You don’t look fine.”

The reply was unexpectedly blunt. Startled, Saronne lifted her gaze to meet his. The dim light spilling in from the open doorway illuminated Leobint’s figure faintly.

His blonde hair was neatly slicked back, as though for a special occasion, and gleamed faintly. Beneath his lowered lashes, his blue eyes rested gently on her.

Then, with the lightest touch, he reached out and brushed away the cold sweat beading on her forehead.

“You’re sweating. Your complexion’s pale. And you’re shaking.”

“…”

“Are you really alright?”

The sincerity in his voice made Saronne’s eyes waver slightly.

At last, she opened her lips.

“I’m not feeling well… but I’ll be fine after a bit of rest.”

Leobint studied her quietly for a moment, then offered again,

“Would you allow me to escort you out? I have some urgent matters of my own to attend to, so I can take you back to the main residence on the way.”

“Ah, I couldn’t possibly trouble you—”

“I tend to meddle more than I should.”

She flinched at his casual admission, but he simply smiled.

“Honestly, I won’t sleep well tonight if I don’t help you now. That’s how pale you look, my lady.”

Faced with his earnestness, Saronne couldn’t refuse him any longer.

Besides, she was starting to feel it herself. The pain was growing steadily worse. In the end, she accepted his offer and leaned into his support as he led her back to the main building.

Behind them, the dazzling lights of the banquet hall—now surely consumed by chaos—faded further into the distance.

“Thank you… Lord Hethrian.”

“Think nothing of it.”

A neat smile appeared on his face. Then, after a brief pause, as if mulling something over, he spoke again with quiet seriousness.

“If you ever find yourself in need of help… please don’t hesitate to ask. At least—not with me.”

Saronne bit her lip, then bowed her head politely.

“Yes… then, please get home safely.”

After seeing him off and stepping into the mansion, Saronne’s legs gave out the moment the front door closed behind her.

“My lady?!”

A maid who happened to be nearby rushed over in alarm. Barely managing to stay on her feet, Saronne squeezed her eyes shut.

Just then, Diego’s earlier words came crashing back, that the woman was the true star of the annual banquets he hosted.

He remembered how his scandalous love affair with her had caused such an uproar in society all those years ago.

He had commemorated her birthday without fail every year since then.

***

From that day forward, Saronne’s life became nothing short of hell.

After Vivian moved into the estate, Diego began openly disdaining Saronne, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Vivian never left Saronne’s side, day or night.

When Saronne finally told Diego about her pregnancy—

“…You’re saying you’re pregnant? You?”

The man she had once thought would be delighted by this news now frowned, his eyebrows knitting together tightly.

She had imagined he would smile, if only slightly. That he would feel relieved. But that had turned out to be a vain hope.

“I have already announced to everyone that Vivian’s child will be my heir. I have no intention of taking back that statement. Why are you making things so difficult for me?”

“Make things difficult? Lord Benit’s child is illegitimate! And you still intend to name him your heir?”

Was it even certain that the child Vivian brought was really his?

Saronne couldn’t—no, refused to accept it.

Yes, the timeline suggested it could be his, that the child was conceived before Vivian’s marriage to Viscount Benit—

But still…

Her racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt as Diego let out a long, exasperated sigh. When he finally spoke, his voice was edged with unmistakable irritation.

“We don’t even know if your child is a boy or a girl yet, so why all the fuss? I never said I’d remove you from your position just because I appointed Vivian’s son as heir.”

“You call that a justification?”

How could someone who once treated her with such warmth, such unwavering devotion, turn so cold in an instant?

It was as if everything they’d shared had been nothing but a mask.

“Stop being so dramatic. I’m busy. Let’s talk later.”

Diego waved her off like she was a nuisance. Then, as if remembering an afterthought, he finally muttered without looking her in the eye—

“Oh. Congratulations on the baby.”