Chapter 1.10

The man didn’t avert his gaze but crossed his legs.  

“It’s true that women in this family are known for bearing sons well, correct?”  

“Of course. I had a son first, and my family has five sons on my side and seven on my husband’s side. Including nephews from both sides, there are over twenty boys.”  

The man nodded and tapped his foot.  

“Bearing sons depends more on the man’s genetics, though.”  

Lucia interjected.  

Her mother’s piercing glare burned the back of her head, but she ignored it.  

It was futile.  

“Alright, I’ll take her.”  

The man’s words made Lucia feel as though her breath had stopped.  

“Thank you so much, Earl Siabon! Truly, thank you!”  

Marisa abandoned all pretense of dignity and exclaimed.  

“You won’t regret it! By this time next year, you’ll surely have a son!”  

“Leave us. I need to speak privately with my fiancée.”  

The door closed. Earl Siabon rose from his seat and walked around the tea table, approaching Lucia.  

Lucia, frozen in place, snapped back to her senses and stood abruptly.  

“No matter how badly you want a son, surely you wouldn’t want a child with such a hideous face.”  

Lucia said, pointing to her wart-covered face.  

“This is a hereditary disease; it’ll be passed down to the children—”  

Without a word, Earl Siabon picked up a teacup and splashed its contents onto Lucia’s face.  

Then, he shoved the stunned Lucia against the wall and roughly scrubbed her face with his sleeve. It felt as though her skin was being peeled off.  

Lucia screamed and tried to push him away, but his arm pressed suffocatingly against her chest.  

After wiping off the wart makeup, the Earl tilted her chin up with his finger.  

“The face is decent enough.”  

He said, twisting her tea-soaked face left and right.  

“I don’t like the look in your eyes, though.”  

Lucia gritted her teeth and spoke.  

“You’re making a mistake. I’m perfectly capable of ruining your life.”  

“You’re more naïve than I thought. Do you really believe you have that kind of power?”  

The man smirked with a cruel smile.  

“I’ve had obedient ones and beautiful ones. Now I just need one who can bear children well.”  

He reached out and locked the door.  

“Now, it’s time to confirm whether you can properly fulfill your duties as a wife.”  

Lucia tried to push him away, but he pressed her harder against the wall. He lowered his head, and the thick, nauseating scent of his cologne made it hard to breathe.  

Instinctively, Lucia reached out and felt around the mantle. Soon, her fingers touched something cold—a metal candlestick.  

She grabbed it and swung it with all her strength.  

The Earl cursed and staggered back.  

Lucia, trembling, held the candlestick like a sword with both hands. Blood dripped from his forehead.  

“Your attitude is poor. But that will fix itself after a few beatings.”  

The Earl, breathing heavily, grabbed the doorknob.  

“I’ll see you at the wedding, fiancée.”  

He wiped the blood off with irritation and left the room.  

***

Still trembling, Lucia headed to her father’s study.  

It was the place she was always summoned to after a suitor’s visit to be punished.  

For the first time, she went there of her own accord.  

Hot tears streamed down her face.  

She couldn’t tell whether it was shame, fear, or anger.  

To understand the reason, she would have to replay the events in her mind over and over again, but she didn’t want to.  

She wiped her tears and opened the door.  

Her mother, brimming with excitement, was informing her father of Lucia’s marriage while he read the newspaper.  

Even when she saw Lucia’s disheveled state, she didn’t ask anything.  

“The wedding will be held in March, so keep that in mind.”  

Her father spoke without even lifting his eyes from the newspaper.  

“I can’t do it. I really can’t go through with this marriage.”  

“Be quiet. Go to your room.”  

“He touched me.”  

For the first time, her father looked up from the newspaper. Lucia clenched her trembling fists.  

“Earl Siabon touched me.”  

For a moment, the sound of the crackling fireplace filled the room.  

“The rumors were true.”  

Her father returned to reading the newspaper, saying nothing further.  

Lucia felt as though she might scream. Her vision blurred as her parents became increasingly indistinct.  

“What are you waiting for? Go to your room.”  

“Do you expect me to beg?”  

But her father knew she wouldn’t beg, and Lucia knew begging wouldn’t change anything.  

So neither of them spoke again.  

“Lucia.”  

Marisa broke the silence.  

“Follow me.”  

Marisa led her back to the drawing room.  

She held Lucia’s trembling hands.  

“Lucia, I know this isn’t the marriage you wanted.”  

Her tone was unusually gentle, something uncharacteristic of Marisa.  

“At first, it’ll be difficult. But it’s better to marry a man who only wants one thing. All you have to do is give him a son. Then you can live the rest of your life as a Countess in luxury. Isn’t that wonderful? As your mother, I’m simply grateful and happy that you’ll have such a life.”  

Calling herself ‘Mother.’ Holding Lucia’s hands with soft, warm palms.  

Faint memories of her childhood resurfaced. Back then, Marisa had been a kind and loving mother.  

Lucia’s hardened heart began to thaw, just a little.  

For the first time, she wanted to have an honest conversation with her mother.  

“But I still don’t want to.”  

Lucia said.  

“I know. Most women don’t marry because they want to. Your Aunt Greta, Aunt Mathilde, Madame Campione, Madame Cirelli… None of them wanted to either. Honestly, I didn’t marry your father because I wanted to. It was hard to adjust at first, but we all live happily now. You will too. I believe that wholeheartedly.”  

Lucia’s eyes filled with hot tears.  

Her cold mother had been loving her all along, in her own way.  

Though her methods were different from what Lucia wanted, her mother’s sincerity touched the heart that had been starved of love for so many years.  

“Mother.”  

Lucia said, crying.  

“But I still can’t do it. Even if every other woman can, I can’t.”  

Marisa gently stroked Lucia’s head. She looked down at her daughter with soft, identical eyes.  

“My dear girl.”  

Marisa lovingly cupped Lucia’s cheeks and smiled beautifully.  

“Don’t think you’re special.”  

Lucia stared at her, unable to understand her words.  

As Marisa left the room, she instructed the waiting maid outside.  

“Make sure she doesn’t leave the room.”  

Lucia, now fully aware, thought through her unstoppable tears.  

I have to get out of here.  

***

Aristide twirled his fountain pen in the Imperial study.  

The desk gleamed with gold accents, one wall was entirely covered with an ornate tapestry, and the deep teal curtains were embroidered with silk.  

Every detail of the room prioritized aesthetics over functionality.  

It was a fitting space for Emperor Aristide, who was notorious for neglecting state affairs.  

Enzo stood in front of the desk, waiting while observing Aristide.  

“Your Majesty, news about Miss Lucia Bianchi—”  

“Enzo.”  

Aristide raised a hand to signal him to stop.  

“She rejected me once; that’s the end of it. Investigating or monitoring her is not right. Stop concerning yourself with her, and don’t report anything about her to me again.”  

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”  

After hesitating for a while, Enzo finally spoke.  

“Earl Ezio Siabon has become engaged to Miss Lucia Bianchi, and the marriage application he submitted has been accepted by the Imperial Marriage Registry.”  

Enzo watched Aristide’s face darken, like storm clouds gathering.  

“Damn it.”  

Aristide cursed and stormed out of the room.  

***

Since the day she was proposed to by Earl Siabon, Lucia had been confined to the attic.  

It was a prison-like space with a small iron bed, a fireplace filled with dust, and a sink and toilet all crammed into one room.  

The door was locked from the outside.  

The lock could easily be picked. The problem was the hired guards stationed outside the door 24/7 in shifts.  

Marisa had scolded them so harshly that they stood unwaveringly by the door.  

Still, they didn’t want the bride-to-be to freeze to death, so they had provided plenty of blankets.  

Lucia was currently tearing the blankets into long strips to make a rope, attaching a metal skewer that Sara had smuggled in for her.  

When footsteps approached, she quickly climbed onto the bed, covered herself with the blanket, and lay down with an angry expression.  

It was Sara who brought her food.  

Lucia stopped pretending and opened the tray lid.