Chapter 1 – Irreversible

“Olivia, a person only needs to bear as much as is their share.

That is enough.”

*

Hee-ing!

The horse, snorting roughly, dashed like an arrow over the soaked muddy ground. The wind whipped her loose hair harshly across her cheeks. Her hands on the reins were hot, yet from her heart, collarbone, nape, behind her ears, and crown, she felt a chill so cold it seemed she might freeze.

After riding for a while, she saw a small thicket. It was a place she had scouted beforehand. She was certain this would not kill her. Perhaps the worst could happen.

She was about to risk her life in an adventure.

She closed her eyes and slowly loosened her grip on the reins.

She had to become a perfectly broken toy.

Only if every bone in her body was shattered would Lenahan let her go. Because she would be of no use to him.

Soon, she felt her body lift upward.

Anticipating the terrible pain to come.

Her husband, Earl Lenahan Harper’s mistress, was a famous courtesan.

It was a common story, if the mistress was a typical pr*stitute wanting money. Unfortunately, she was of a completely different kind. Heather Genoa, once even the King’s concubine, was not only beautiful but skilled in philosophy, politics, and dance. She owned two villas in the countryside, as well as a respectable mansion in the capital.

The rumors about the public mistress became most prominent during the social season. Although they would travel from the main estate to the capital together, every April and May, Olivia and her husband rarely saw each other’s faces. Except for the royal banquets, her husband would take Heather instead of her to every event, openly showing her off.

Annie, pouring tea across from Olivia, suddenly brought up the topic, trembling with anger.

“A pr*stitute who doesn’t know her place is now openly coveting your position, Madam.”

“Annie, your words are harsh.”

“Madam, aren’t you angry?”

“Annie.”

Panting, Annie realized her slip and quickly closed her mouth. Three years older than Olivia, Annie was more than just a maid—she was like an extension of Olivia herself. She had followed Olivia from her family home, was the daughter of her wet nurse, and had been her foster sister for years. Sometimes, she felt more like an older sister. In this Harper estate, she was the only one Olivia could truly call her own.

Rather than answer immediately, Olivia took a sip of the tea Annie handed her.

“I’m grateful, actually, that she does social activities in my stead since I’m not well.”

“Madam!”

Ironically, Annie snorted at Olivia’s calm response, as if it was nonsense. The human heart was truly fickle, Olivia thought, feeling herself calm down at Annie’s reaction. Yet, a self-mocking pain throbbed in her left chest at those words.

A mistress who did social activities for the weak wife.

What Olivia said wasn’t true. It was just a rumor in society, and the excuse Earl Lenahan Harper always gave for her absence. In the rumors, Olivia was a wife with a long-standing illness, unable to support her husband in public. There was no reason to tremble with anger or soak her handkerchief with tears. She had married into the Harper Earldom at seventeen, lived with him for ten years, and for the last seven, things had been this way. The reason was clear. At twenty, she had lost a child due to her own carelessness. Everything twisted after that.

After the doctor declared her infertile, her husband, the same age as her, took a mistress—Heather Genoa, eight years older than him.

Annie, looking at Olivia with a frustrated expression, suddenly said,

“You should cast out that old fox before she does something!”

“Annie.”

Even if it was just the two of them in the drawing room, there were always ears in the townhouse. At Olivia’s quiet call, Annie shut her mouth. This time, she looked confused, not knowing why she was being scolded.

Olivia mulled over Annie’s words. A pr*stitute who doesn’t know her place, an old fox, a cunning witch… For seven years, Annie had called Heather by many names, sometimes so creative that Olivia had to admire her.

“If I cast Heather out, do you think that will be the end?”

“Madam…”

“There will surely be another Heather.”

Annie bit her lower lip and shouted in protest the next moment.

“The Earl loves you, Madam!”

“What…?”

Olivia’s head snapped up at the unexpected words. She hadn’t even considered it. When she didn’t reply, Annie, blushing, caught her breath and continued.

“He seems cold to you, but his eyes are always on you. Wherever he goes, he asks about your whereabouts. Would he do that if he didn’t care or love you?”

“…”

“And no matter how much he seems to cherish that woman, he never lets her enter the main house.”

Olivia paused at Annie’s continued insistence. It was true. Lenahan wasn’t brazen enough to keep Heather in the main house like Olivia. During the social season, Heather usually stayed at her own house in the capital, and the rest of the year, at a villa far from the main house on the estate.

But that didn’t mean he loved Olivia. Annie was misunderstanding. The fact that he kept his eyes on Olivia was probably for appearances, worried she might make a scene. The eyes of noble society were always watching, and while he might be personally condemned, he didn’t want public criticism.

Lenahan wanted to slowly suffocate Olivia. He believed their relationship should appear friendly to outsiders. Like the happy couples in children’s picture books. Even now, a woman’s infidelity was not only disgraceful but could be fatal. Fundamentally, he didn’t trust her.

“I’m tired, Annie.”

“Madam…”

“I need to lie down.”

Instead of answering, Olivia put down her teacup. She wasn’t naturally weak, but lately she had felt unwell. It was just a light dizziness.

She fell asleep and woke to find it was already late afternoon. Her sweat-soaked body felt heavy. She sat up and saw a glass of water on the bedside table. As she reached for it, a familiar hand handed her the glass. Her whole body tensed instinctively.

She drank the water and slowly raised her head.

“Lenahan.”

“Olivia.”

He was sitting in the chair by her bedside, quietly watching her. His amber eyes met her pale blue ones. Without a word, Olivia looked at his aquiline nose, neat forehead, and always perfectly kept dark blue hair.

Ten years had passed since they first met and married, but he hadn’t changed much. He was a little taller and broader, but that was all. In contrast, Olivia had grown smaller—not physically, but inside.

“I heard you felt dizzy. Are you alright?”

His cool hand touched her forehead without hesitation. She bit her lower lip to hide her shock. The concern in his voice and eyes made her smile bitterly.

To others, he would seem like a caring husband worrying about his wife. He always wanted to appear perfect. The townhouse was smaller than the main estate, and maids frequently walked the halls. Rumors traveled faster than feet. Being seen together was not a good choice.

It had been a month since they’d last met. Yet he acted as if he hadn’t seen her in half a day. He was so natural that even Olivia almost believed it.

“…I’m better now.”

With a gentle gesture, she covered his hand and moved it from her forehead so it wouldn’t seem like she was rejecting him.

“The telegram arrived quickly.”

He laughed. Of course, he hadn’t rushed here because of her news. Olivia knew. She was his possession, his pet. Someone he looked at when he felt like it.

The message she’d sent was that she didn’t want to stay in the capital until the end of the social season. She hadn’t expected such a quick response.

His question was as calm as if he were asking about dinner.

“Do you have a lover hidden away there?”

“Lenahan.”

“I can see you’re desperate to go back.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Every word felt like it tore through her heart. She hated how she was tossed between heaven and h＊ll by his reactions. She wanted to escape, but every attempt failed, and she was always back where she started, like a squirrel in a wheel. After something happened, he would be kind for a while, then return to normal as if nothing had happened. Like a cat playing with a cornered mouse.

‘Are you any better, keeping a mistress so openly?’

The words rose to her throat, but she forced them down. Lenahan despised vulgar words and actions.

“You know that’s not it. I’m just not well.”

“I see. Get some more sleep, Olivia.”

He kissed her cheek and whispered gently, just as he always acted. Like a loving husband putting his wife to sleep. But Olivia no longer believed it. Instead of answering, she quietly closed her eyes, praying he would leave soon.