After that, the two of them didn’t speak again.

Annely, engrossed in her book, frowned when she suddenly felt a slight pain in her lower abdomen. Realizing that her period was about to start, she got up. From the moment she reacted to the pain, Carlos, who had been watching her, turned his head to follow her movement.

Annely called for Amber and went straight into the bathroom.

After finishing her bath, Annely took the towel from Amber’s hands just as she was about to dry her hair.

“I think my period is about to start, Amber.”

“Oh—then I’ll warm some milk for you. Please wait a moment, Madam.”

Annely waited for Amber, dried her hair completely, and came back out. However, the one waiting for her was not Amber, but Carlos, holding a cup of milk. When he saw Annely emerge, he handed her the cup.

“Your maid prepared it.”

Annely took the cup instinctively, feeling its warmth as she sat down on the sofa.

“It’s not time yet, is it? Are you feeling unwell?”

Because her ut*rus had been damaged during the miscarriage, Annely’s menstrual cycle had been irregular for some time. With careful attention and management, it had returned to a degree of regularity—but whenever her condition worsened even slightly, the cycle would become irregular again.

“I’ve called the physician. Get examined.”

“I was sick a few days ago. I think my body just hasn’t fully recovered from that.”

“Still—get examined.”

Hearing his firm words, she no longer had the strength to resist.

By the time she had finished her milk and the chill had left her body, there was a knock at the door. Amber entered with the doctor. After briefly examining Annely, the doctor stepped back.

“Your stamina has declined due to the fever you had last time. That appears to be the reason your menstrual cycle has become irregular. Since stamina can’t be treated with medicine, I recommend light walks to help you recover.”

Annely nodded; this was what she had expected.

“All right.”

“Is there anything else wrong?”

Carlos asked.

The physician shook his head.

“As long as her stamina is properly restored, she’ll be fine.”

After a brief hesitation, the physician added.

“It would be best to avoid having s*x for the next few days.”

The physician was one of Carlos’s closest associates and had served the ducal household for many years. Because of this, she was well aware of how often Carlos and Annely slept together, and her words were motivated by genuine concern.

When she made her remark, there was a slight shift in the atmosphere of the room, but the physician failed to notice and soon left.

Silence settled quietly in her wake.

It was only then that Annely realized the teacup in her hands had gone cold. She put it down, and as the chill seeped into her palm, she instinctively tried to curl her fingers into a fist. Before she could, however, a warm cup was pressed into her hand.

Carlos had already poured fresh tea. Without so much as glancing at her, he placed the cup in her hand and returned to reviewing his documents, acting as if nothing had happened.

Annely looked at him in silence. She held the cup, which was so hot it nearly burned her, for a moment, then quietly rose to her feet.

In the adjoining dressing room, she retrieved a painting that she had hidden in a corner. She slowly traced her fingers over the cloth draped across its surface.

Ever since Carlos had examined the paintings the previous day, she had known that she would need to deal with this one. When he had asked her about the whereabouts of a particular painting earlier, that uneasy feeling had become a certainty.

And yet, she could not bring herself to burn it.

She didn’t trust anyone enough to leave it with them, and if she kept it here, there was always the risk that Emily might find it. No matter which path she chose, she was trapped. Annely stared at the covered painting, her gaze heavy with conflict.

Then, suddenly, she sensed a presence.

She turned her head sharply.

“Carlos?”

Annely had left the door open, but there was nothing to be seen through the narrow gap. She hurriedly returned the painting to its original place, then opened the dressing room door, but there was no sign of Carlos.

She stepped into the bedroom and saw that he was still sitting exactly where he had been, quietly reading his documents. If he had truly entered the room, he would have had to rush back to his seat in an impossibly short amount of time. There was no way he could have done so without making a sound.

And yet Annely had felt it — a faint sense of a presence. She had heard nothing at all.

At that moment, a dull ache began to throb through her lower abdomen. Annely placed a hand over the ache and drew in a slow breath. Deciding that the pain had simply made her overly sensitive, she lifted her head and looked towards Carlos.

“I’m going to sleep now. Everyone already knows my period has started, so there’s no need for you to sleep here tonight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she headed into the bedroom.

After closing the door, Annely was about to go straight to the bed, but a sudden thought made her stop. After hesitating briefly, she locked the door and lay down on the bed.

Her body shivered briefly against the cold blanket and sheets, but warmth gradually seeped in soon afterwards. Curling up, Annely slowly drifted off to sleep.

***

As her breathing softened and she fell asleep, Carlos put his documents to one side. He rose from the sofa and reached for the doorknob to Annely’s bedroom, but stopped suddenly.

It was locked.

Recalling the provocative look she had given him earlier, he let out a low, amused laugh and withdrew his hand. Without hesitating, he opened the window, grabbed the frame of the adjoining bedroom, and slipped inside.

Landing soundlessly on the thick carpet, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving closer to the bed.

Annely was fast asleep, curled up under the covers. In the pale moonlight, her long lashes cast delicate shadows over her cheeks. Already pale from her period, her complexion looked paler than usual. When Carlos brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, he could feel how cold she was.

Aside from her distinctly northern features, Annely’s body itself was unnervingly cold. This served only to make her constitution seem all the more fragile.

With practiced ease, Carlos lifted the blanket and slipped in behind her.

“Mmm.”

As though she had been waiting for him, Annely instinctively burrowed into his embrace, seeking warmth. Only then did Carlos exhale softly and with satisfaction. Resting his chin on her silky hair, he placed a hand on her lower abdomen, and her breathing slowly steadied.

It was as if warmth spread outwards from his touch, seeping into what had once been cold. Watching the faint color return to her cheeks, Carlos found himself unable to sleep.

There was a reason he could never truly hate Annely, even though he knew she had married him on impulse, driven by a desire for revenge.

It was because of the miscarriage.

Annely had fallen down the stairs in what appeared to be a tragic accident, losing a child she had never known she was carrying. Knowing that carelessness was not in her nature, Carlos immediately sensed that something was amiss and ordered a thorough investigation.

What he uncovered was not an accident at all, but a carefully planned crime.

Annely had spent her whole life in the Imperial Palace, under the protection of those in power. She had no close relationships and no one she could truly call an ally. Consequently, she had no personal enemies either.

This meant that the plot was not aimed at her.

It had been aimed at Carlos.

Annely was merely his weakness: small, fragile, and exposed.

Carlos had been haunted by guilt ever since, naturally.

At the time, he did not know the true intentions behind Annely’s marriage. As the incident had been orchestrated by his enemies, he pursued the culprit relentlessly, but ultimately uncovered nothing.

Even now, despite having been used, ridiculed and deceived by Annely, Carlos found himself unable to treat her with indifference.

She had undoubtedly lost a child because of him, and there was a grim possibility that she might never be able to have children again.

This knowledge clung to him like a shadow. His hatred of Annely and his guilt over her suffering collided within him, twisting together into something far more agonizing.

The one small mercy was that Annely could find peace and stability in Carlos’ arms.

Even if he could only sneak into her room each night to keep her warm, as long as it helped her in any way, it was enough for him.

For this reason, whenever Annely was in pain during her period, Carlos found that he could not hate her.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he lifted a hand and rested it against her forehead. Since he was holding her from behind and could not see her face, he traced her features by touch instead.

His fingers glided over her smooth, gently rounded forehead and brushed her fine, delicate eyebrows. Beneath them, her eyelashes fluttered, tickling his fingertips.

Mindful that his calloused hands might hurt her, he carefully traced the thin line of her eyelids before moving down to the bridge of her nose.

Her small, high nose — a hallmark of people from the north — might have seemed too slight on another face. On Annely, however, it was perfectly proportioned, enhancing the quiet elegance of her features.

When his hand finally reached her soft lips, Carlos swallowed involuntarily.