Chapter 101: Please Help Me Take Revenge

The next morning, Edelweiss unfolded a special edition from the freshly published Boniel newspaper. On the front page was a familiar name.

“Early this morning, Beatrice Ruwes, the former Countess of Sandor, perished in a massive fire at her townhouse, where she had been under house arrest.

Despite rapid firefighting and rescue efforts, Beatrice Ruwes could not be saved.

There were no other casualties, and authorities are still assessing the extent of the damage.

Her maid, Miss Benny, testified that she could not remember the events due to trauma.”

Edelweiss quietly placed the newspaper on the table. Then, she lifted her gaze and looked across from her.

There sat Beatrice Ruwes, the woman reported to have perished in the blaze, her face pale.

Only Beatrice’s shallow, unsteady breathing echoed through the room—her mind had yet to fully return.

“It’s a relief everything was handled cleanly.”

The Marquis of Blossomweaver had sent someone to set the townhouse ablaze and smuggled Beatrice out.

The fire had consumed the building entirely, and it was reported that her body had been so thoroughly incinerated that not even remains were found.

Edelweiss focused closely on Beatrice’s slightest movements. Her eyelids slowly lifted, revealing eyes filled with fear and confusion.

“It’s been a while, Aunt.”

Edelweiss spoke calmly, deliberately addressing Beatrice with the title she once used in the past.

“Wh… why am I here…?”

Beatrice Ruwes muttered with a trembling voice. She shook her head faintly as she glanced around, clearly trying to grasp the situation.

Edelweiss pushed the newspaper on the table toward her so she could see it.

Beatrice Ruwes looked over the article, biting her lip.

“Did you set the fire?”

“…It’s inappropriate to speak so informally just because I called you ‘Aunt.’ Even when I was simply Lady Stern… Beatrice, you were someone who had to bow to me.”

Edelweiss spoke coolly. To gain control, she needed to imprint her position on the other.

“And now? Whether this newspaper article gets corrected as a false report or remains as fact—that is also for me to decide.”

“…Forgive me, Your Grace.”

Beatrice Ruwes sighed deeply and bowed her head calmly.

“Such remarkable love. Disguising Rosemary as a relative and helping her escape, accepting a divorce without protest, living under house arrest…”

“…Rosemary, she’s dead anyway. My husband… he cared for her so much even before, and said he had no choice but to act on Duke Stern’s request. And you still want revenge…?”

She seemed to think she’d been brought here because she had helped disguise Rosemary as her relative, Lenia Ruwes.

“Out of pity for my husband, please… let it end here. I beg you.”

Beatrice began trying to persuade her.

“Are you sure it was really Duke Stern’s request? Why do you think your husband, Count Sandor, cared so deeply for Rosemary?”

Beatrice raised her eyebrows, as if asking how Edelweiss could not know.

“I was always weak… I couldn’t bear children… and Benjamin is such a kind man—Rosemary adored him.”

“With such innocence, it’s no wonder you were deceived your whole life. Even made a fool of.”

Her guilt for not being able to bear a child and her gratitude toward Count Sandor, who never blamed her for it, were obvious.

‘And the deeper the trust, the deeper the betrayal.’

Beatrice frowned, unable to grasp Edelweiss’s words.

“What are you saying?”

Edelweiss judged that rather than explain at length, reading the letter would be faster.

She pulled Serena Widen’s letter from her sleeve.

[To Benjamin,

Your child has been born. It’s a girl. Fortunately, it seems I can pass her off as Mateo’s daughter.

Mateo believes she’s his.

He comes to see the child often and absolutely dotes on her.

The idiot even said he loves how much she looks like him.

You’re not planning on divorcing your wife and marrying me anyway, right?

That’s what you always said. That we’re just in this to have fun.

A count’s bastard daughter is still better off as the duke’s illegitimate child.

Even if she won’t be in the Stern family registry, she’ll still be treated like a lady.

Not that you would, but don’t even think about claiming that she’s your daughter.

I’ll name her Rosemary instead. You like roses, don’t you?

Burn this letter as soon as you read it.–Serena..]

“…What… what are you saying?”

Beatrice stammered, then stopped mid-sentence. A faint, trembling breath escaped her lips.

“Do you remember Serena Widen?”

“…Rosemary’s birth mother?”

“Serena Widen lived in a small house in Metanien Square. The owner of that house was Benjamin Sandor.”

Her hand slowly clenched on her knee. Veins bulged over her pale knuckles.

Edelweiss continued reading.

Beatrice clapped both hands over her ears.

“Lies…”

“If you don’t believe me, I can also show you the evidence—Rosemary’s double ledgers, the slush funds she funneled to Count Sandor.”

“No…”

Beatrice screamed.

It was a sound blended with ripping fury and agony—more beast than human.

“Lies… it can’t be true…!”

She grabbed her hair with both hands, shaking her head violently. Her breath came in choking gasps, her eyes trembling with no direction.

“That man—Benjamin—he… did that… to me…!”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Beatrice collapsed, curling into herself.

Bang!

“Heuu, th-that…”

At last, Beatrice Ruwes slammed her forehead against the table and broke into sobs.

The crying went on for a long time before it finally subsided. As the blood from her torn forehead reached her lips, she slowly lifted her face.

“…What do you want me to do?”

Her gaze was cold, and within it simmered deep-rooted despair and hatred.

“Help me… take revenge.”

“……”

“I want the world to know… that he was the one who tried to smuggle Rosemary out. It’s too unfair like this. I can’t stand it anymore…”

What Edelweiss needed was something that could drag Count Sandor and Queen Roxanne down in one blow.

“Do you know that Count Sandor killed Princess Isabella?”

“……”

Even upon hearing that Princess Isabella had been murdered by Count Sandor, Beatrice Ruwes didn’t look surprised.

‘So she already knew.’

If that was the case, it was highly likely she knew the evidence too.

“…Inside his office drawer, there’s the necklace Princess Isabella wore that day.”

“That’s not enough. Even if we go to the Count’s estate and retrieve the necklace, it won’t be conclusive evidence that Count Sandor pushed her into the lake.”

At Edelweiss’s response, Beatrice—who had been biting her nails—suddenly widened her eyes.

“…The body of the boatman who was at the lakeside that day is buried under the flowerbed.”

The truth that had been submerged beneath the surface was beginning to rise.

“Then come with me and report everything to His Majesty the Emperor. That Count Sandor’s real daughter is Rosemary. That he pinned the crime of smuggling her out on you. That he killed Princess Isabella and hid the boatman’s corpse.”

Beatrice Ruwes hesitated briefly, then her eyes turned resolute.