After her brief meeting with the Duke, Amelia left the estate, her steps feeling almost buoyant.

However, the expression she had carefully maintained shattered the moment the door closed behind her.

She wiped away the tears she had forced herself to shed during their conversation, pressing a handkerchief to her eyes. When she had finished, she tossed the still-faintly-damp cloth into a nearby waste bin without a second thought.

“Take her as a mistress? As if.”

Her voice, stripped of all pretense, rang sharp and cold with irritation.

The duke had always been hers. From the very beginning. And he would remain hers — hers alone.

Amelia had always been fiercely possessive of anything she considered hers. Even the slightest touch of an object without her permission was intolerable. The thought of sharing the man she believed she loved was completely unacceptable.

And with a filthy maid, of all people!

Her skin was so pale that the veins beneath were visible. Her hair was dull and lifeless, like a worn broom. Her eyes were perpetually shadowed, as if shrouded in gloom.

The mere thought made her stomach churn.

What could anyone possibly find attractive about such a face?

Amelia thought of the maid, who always seemed oblivious and played the helpless victim in every situation.

She wished the girl would simply disappear.

As she considered how to remove her from the duke’s sight once and for all, one name came to mind: Jack Hunter.

He was the man introduced to the maid by her grandmother, only to be imprisoned later on charges of *ssault and various corrupt dealings. Amelia had read about his case in the newspapers and remembered him immediately.

Yes, him.

He had already lost everything: his wealth, his reputation, and his future.

Above all, he would be the one who harbored the deepest resentment towards the maid.

“Filth belongs with filth.”

If only she had known her place and married Jack Hunter obediently instead of daring to reach beyond her station, none of this would have become so complicated.

“It’s all her fault that I’ve been pushed this far.”

The words slipped through her clenched teeth, heavy with bitterness and hatred.

***

Amelia descended into the dark, damp underground prison.

She had concealed her identity beneath a large, hooded robe, pulling it low over her face. Nevertheless, her noble bearing could not be entirely disguised.

As she walked along the stone corridor, her footsteps echoed and the prisoners clinging to the iron bars directed crude jokes and vulgar comments at her.

‘Disgusting.’

The air felt humid and foul, sending chills crawling over her skin. Every part of the subterranean cell repulsed her.

But now was not the time to dwell on her discomfort.

“Here.”

“Good work.”

When Amelia reached the cell at the end of the prison corridor, she stopped and gave the guard a pouch of gold coins. After confirming its weight, the guard handed her the key and withdrew quietly.

Left alone, Amelia whispered.

“Do you want revenge on the man who put you in here?”

It was a tempting question.

She was sure that the man beyond the darkness would want it. She was convinced that they were both aiming for the same outcome.

As if to prove her theory right, the sound of dragging chains echoed slowly from within the shadows. A faint shaft of light revealed Jack Hunter’s figure.

“And who are you supposed to be?”

Jack Hunter looked down at the small woman, who barely reached his chest, openly dismissing her.

Her stomach churned at the insolent tone of a commoner addressing her without courtesy, but she forced herself to endure it.

She needed something from him.

“I’m someone who can get you out of here.”

Amelia held up the prison key, letting it catch the light.

The moment Jack spotted it, he lunged towards the bars and thr*st out his arm in an attempt to grab it. But his fingers fell short.

“You shouldn’t be so rude.”

Even in the face of his aggression, Amelia met his gaze without flinching.

“I have a proposal. Do you remember the Everetts’ maid that you met once? I’ll get you out of here. In return, I just ask that you ensure she never approaches the Duke of Fraser again. You can kill her or keep her; do as you please. I don’t care.”

She finally revealed the purpose that had brought her there.

Whatever he chose to do with the maid was none of her concern. All she wanted was for the girl to disappear from the duke’s view.

“Judging by the look of you… you must be the noble fiancée of the great Duke of Fraser.”

“I’ll provide whatever information or tools you need. Are you in—or not?”

Amelia did not answer his taunt.

Jack Hunter straightened with a crooked, contemptuous smile.

“And why should I trust you?”

Firstly, you would gain your freedom. The duke would never release you of his own accord. Wouldn’t it be wiser to accept my offer? Otherwise, you’ll rot here for the rest of your life.”

She raised the key again, letting it sway deliberately in front of him. The clear clink of metal against metal sounded like an invitation.

“…Fine. I accept the deal. Hand that over.”

His voice dripped with malice.

Unable to bear even the slightest touch from him, Amelia threw the key through the bars of the cell instead of handing it to him.

From the darkness of the cell, a low, sickening laugh slithered outwards. Amelia turned her back at once, unwilling to remain in the prison for another second.

As she walked away, the laughter followed her down the corridor, echoing off the cold stone walls.

In that moment, she knew there was no turning back.

For a brief moment, she had a thought: an unhinged man might harm the duke, too.

But she did not care.

If she could not have him, then no one else would.

***

Even after the marriage announcement, no correction was issued.

As new controversies arose, public interest in Bella gradually began to fade.

‘Was that what he meant?’

Bella remembered the Duke’s words: “No matter what they say, don’t believe it.”

She trusted him far more than any unproven article. However, as the days passed without a word from him, she no longer knew what to believe.

It was around that time that a letter arrived from Netherwell.

The moment she saw the dowager lady’s seal pressed into the wax, her heart sank.

After everything that had been written in the papers, what could she possibly have to say?

A tightness settled in Bella’s chest as she carefully broke the seal. But the letter was not from the dowager lady.

It was from the head butler of the Netherwell estate.

Its contents were worse than she had feared.

The Dowager Lady’s illness had returned. She was confined to her bed and wanted to see Bella one last time.

The sentences were short. Plain. Yet their meaning was devastatingly clear.

There was not much time left.

Bella drew in a slow, trembling breath.

Something inside her quietly gave way.

‘Is she ill because of me?’

Her hand fell limply to her side.

Was it all the result of her own greed?

Had she confessed her true feelings to the duke?

Or because she had dared to hope for happiness with him?

It felt as though her misguided choice had brought about this consequence.

Joshua told her to wait while he confirmed the situation with his grandfather. But Bella had already made up her mind.

“I want to go to Netherwell.”

Without a telephone line in Netherwell, confirming the truth would take a long time.

By the time confirmation arrived, it might be too late.

The urgency to leave as soon as possible tightened painfully around her chest.

She sent the same request to the duke.

He was too busy to take her call himself and firmly refused through his secretary. Although public opinion had begun to settle, he said it was still dangerous. He urged her to stay in the capital a little longer.

But Bella did not hesitate.

“I’ll assign someone to accompany you. Contact me the moment you arrive in Netherwell.”

He could not approve of her travelling there alone under such circumstances. Yet he could not change her mind.

He knew how deeply she cared for the Dowager Lady.

Ultimately, he had no choice but to let her go.