The woman did not stop running until she reached an area where there was nobody in sight.

Only then did she slow to a halt.

Her heart was pounding and she could feel her breath rising to the tip of her throat.

“What on earth…”

She had barely managed to steady herself in the wake of the sudden turn of events; nothing about it made sense.

The rear garden was on the outskirts of the estate and was used for unpleasant tasks such as washing laundry and disposing of rubbish. She had never imagined that she would encounter the duke there of all places. And certainly not that he would seize her.

At the thought that another servant might have seen them together, her chest tightened painfully.

The head maid had warned her time and again: “never cross paths with His Grace.”

That warning echoed in her mind now, and the fear it conveyed settled over her like an icy weight she could not shake off.

‘For whatever reason, he looked furious with me.’

Had he noticed her stealing a glance at him in the lobby?

Or, as the head maid had said, was he also put off by her appearance?

The warning echoed in her mind: “Do not thr*st your ugly face before someone of such value and spoil his mood.”

She had heard that some of the nobility disliked seeing maids like her performing menial labor in the houses they visited.

“You… were alive?”

Despite everything he had put her through, the way he had spoken to her — calling her by name as though he knew her — had stirred the faintest flicker of hope in her heart.

She knew better. A girl who had grown up in an orphanage, with no family to look for her, could never have known a man of such noble standing.

And yet…

She let her long hair fall forward, hiding her face from view.

Although no one was watching as she slipped into the storage shed, she found herself wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

‘From now on, even if a place seems deserted, I need to be more careful.’

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, folding in on herself as if trying to shrink her body.

Beneath her clothes, her right shoulder was completely covered in a burn scar.

Her skin had once melted in a fire. What had grown back in its place was uneven and twisted, fused together in a mass that could hardly be called whole. She had been told that the scar was already there when she first arrived at the orphanage.

So much time had passed that touching it no longer caused her pain. Yet at night, it still burned as if the flames had never truly gone out.

Though the sun had not yet set, she pressed her hand to her throbbing shoulder, her expression darkening.

Ever since she had met the duke, a sense of foreboding had clung to her and refused to fade.

It was not only because of the head maid’s warning.

She let out a long, unsteady sigh.

If she had known things would turn out this way, she would have fallen to her knees and begged to accompany the madam, clinging shamelessly to her skirts if necessary.

But regret served no purpose.

The lady of the house had already left, and she was bound to remain at the count’s estate until she returned.

The duke would only stay for a week.

If she kept out of sight during that time, she would be fine.

She would be fine. Surely…

As long as she avoided the rear garden, there was little chance of her crossing paths with him again, given that she had been assigned to the laundry room.

Pushing aside her lingering unease, she stepped out of the storage shed. She was about to resume her work when the head maid summoned her again, this time to reprimand her. Suddenly, she remembered something she had completely forgotten.

“Ah—right. The bedding!”

***

“Why did you come all the way here just to work? You took time off, so you should at least go out and enjoy yourself! Because of you, I’ve ended up working all day too.”

Vincent, who had left the estate early in the morning and only returned at dusk, grumbled at Logan, who was still staring at documents as if nothing else existed.

Even during this rare week of leave, Vincent — the dedicated attorney for Fraser Enterprises — had spent his days following his employer around.

“I came here to work.”

“What? You’re serious?”

“You were the one who told me to look at the plot in Rosedale first.”

Despite Vincent’s reprimand, Logan did not look up from the report he was holding.

Originally founded in the hotel industry, Fraser Enterprises was now selecting a site for its seventh hotel. Logan had travelled across the continent to inspect potential locations and had handled negotiations and business matters without taking a single day off.

The week-long leave, arranged to coincide with the Count’s daughter’s birthday, was not taken for his own sake. It was a gesture to Vincent, who had missed his younger sister’s birthday celebrations year after year while working with Logan.

This did not mean that Logan intended to rest, however.

“I told you I wouldn’t interfere with your personal time. Other than the days you have outside appointments, you should relax.”

“How can I relax when my employer is clearly still working?”

“Just ignore what I’m doing.”

“You’re a hopeless work addict with zero flexibility!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a shred of conscience, President.”

Vincent watched him for a moment longer, then dropped heavily onto the sofa.

They had been friends for more than half their lives, yet Logan remained impossible to read.

‘What on earth does Amelia see in a man like that, trailing after him like a puppy?’

Vincent had warned her countless times against falling in love with someone like Logan. But she insisted that she loved him, so he ultimately chose to support her.

Objectively speaking, however, Logan was not husband material.

On the surface, he lacked nothing: he was handsome, intelligent, refined and wealthy. To an outsider, he seemed flawless.

But inside, he was empty. He was like a polished fruit that appeared perfectly ripe and beautiful, yet hollow at its core.

A man who still clung to the memory of someone who had died more than ten years ago could never truly give his heart to another woman.

Vincent did not know the woman’s face. He didn’t even know her name. But he knew better than anyone how deeply she had once mattered to Logan.

‘Perhaps it would be better to break off the engagement before the wedding ceremony… No—Mother told me to make sure that this time he sets a date.’

Vincent, who had opposed the engagement from the outset, remembered the letter their mother had sent before they arrived at the Count’s estate.

The promise between the families had already been made. The rings had been exchanged.

At this point, it was not something that could simply be undone.

All they could do now was hope that Logan would change after marriage.

Though Vincent placed little faith in that hope.

He pictured Amelia rising at dawn each day, carefully dressing and adorning herself, waiting for nothing more than a chance to see Logan.

She wasn’t particularly beautiful — she had no striking features — but she was his only sister. Watching her wear herself down day after day filled him with quiet frustration, and eventually, he spoke up.

“At the very least, make time for tea with her once a day. Even a pumpkin can look like a watermelon if you draw enough lines on it. She’s waiting for you. At least pretend to notice.”

“A pumpkin?”

“Amelia. She’s been causing a fuss for a month now, all because you said you’d come.”

“….”

Until then, Logan had paid no attention to the nonsense Vincent had been muttering beside him.

But now, he turned his head.

He looked at Vincent, whose face was almost identical to his fiancée’s, except for the hairstyle. Then he set the report aside.

“And you know it too. Amelia bears a scar because of that day.”

Vincent did not know how big the scar was.

However, he knew enough to realize that having any blemish on her body was no trivial matter for a noblewoman. Initially, Logan seemed determined to refuse the engagement, regardless of the compensation offered. It was only after the incident that he changed his mind.

Since arriving in Rosedale, he had hidden behind the excuse of a busy schedule, only appearing at mealtimes. He had declined every attempt Amelia made to visit him.

As her fiancé, he did not even grant her the courtesy of a proper outing. Instead, he spent his days inspecting land, treating business as his sole purpose for being there.

At first, the estate had been filled with anticipation.

Gradually, however, even the servants began to question the duke’s intentions.

Had he truly come for Amelia?

Or was he merely there for business?

Without a word, Logan closed the file in his hands.

As he rose from the sofa, Vincent’s eyes lifted to follow him.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Logan stopped in his tracks at this unexpected response. He slowly turned his head.

“… You?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Vincent avoided cigarette smoke at all costs; his grandfather had died of a lung disease.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“It’s only once in a while.”

“Suit yourself.”

With that, Logan turned his back once more, giving a small shrug as he resumed walking.