“It seems the Duke of Fraser was quite curious about what I might have to say.”

The Count turned up the corner of his mouth. The finely tailored suit he had once worn had been replaced by a prisoner’s uniform. Yet he held his head high, his posture rigid — a stark contrast to his circumstances. He carried himself as though he bore no guilt at all.

“You wouldn’t move an inch from the capital when Amelia called, yet you’ve come all the way to this shabby detention center just to see me. Should I consider that an honor?”

Logan did not respond to the sneer.

He regarded the Count across the table with an indifferent gaze.

“Is that all you have to say?”

The man had denied all charges, yet he had requested this meeting. Logan watched him closely as he sat down with ease.

“If you’re referring to the funds hidden in your private bank account, Vincent has already located them. They’re nowhere near enough to repay what you borrowed.”

At that, the Count let out a short, scornful laugh.

“Money? I’m past caring about money. I raised a son, only for him to betray me and rummage through the family documents. What meaning does any of it have now?”

He leaned back in his chair. The handcuffs at his wrists clinked sharply against the metal.

“Have you ever wondered why your father funded me?”

For a moment, Logan’s eyes hardened.

It was a fleeting moment, but the Count did not miss it.

Logan Fraser knew that money had changed hands.

He knew nothing more.

This amused the Count.

“Surely you don’t believe your father lent money out of friendship.”

Logan pressed his lips into a thin line.

His father, James Fraser, had been a calculating man. To him, honor and money were both forms of power. People were nothing more than chess pieces to him, to be maneuvered in defense of that power.

If such a man had lent vast sums repeatedly, there must have been a transaction behind it.

Either the count had given James something he wanted, or James had been buying silence to hide a secret that could never be revealed.

“Doesn’t it make you curious? The truth your father was willing to pay so dearly to conceal.”

“Speak.”

“I can’t speak for nothing.”

A base smile crept across the count’s lips.

He had been waiting for this.

“Let me propose a bargain.”

Slowly, he leaned forward.

Through the bars, he met Logan’s eyes directly.

“Release Amelia and me. And tell Vincent to come to his senses—return to Rosedale and accept his title.”

His fingers moved lazily atop the table, as though sealing a negotiation.

“Do that, and I’ll tell you what truth your father found so precious that he reached out to a man like me to bury it.”

“I refuse.”

Logan did not hesitate for a moment. His answer was clear and final, leaving no room for negotiation.

The Count, who had maintained an air of composure until then, fell silent. He had clearly expected Logan to accept the bargain. After all, Logan cared about his family’s reputation as much as his father did. A nobleman who valued appearances would act accordingly.

“So you summoned me for nothing more than that feeble threat?”

Logan was indifferent to matters that no longer concerned him. The reason why his father had lent money to the Count was now irrelevant to him.

“If I leak this to the press, will you still say the same?”

As Logan stood up, the Count spoke urgently, the smugness having disappeared from his face. A trace of anxiety surfaced.

“While I’m at it, perhaps I should confess your crimes along with mine.”

Even at this threat, Logan did not so much as blink.

Whatever truth the Count claimed to possess was no longer of interest to him. The moment he realized it concerned his late father, he lost all desire to hear it.

His father’s past actions were irrelevant to Logan now.

So that was all.

Without a shred of regret, he turned away. He had never intended to negotiate from the outset. The advantage lay entirely with him.

“Would Scarlet react the same way?”

The count shouted after his retreating back.

At the mention of his mother, Logan’s steps paused for a fraction of a second. But he did not turn around.

He left the visitation room without looking back.

“Your Grace—you must return to the estate at once.”

Jeremy, who had been waiting outside, hurried toward him, urgency etched across his face.

“We’ve received word that Miss Bella’s condition has worsened.”

***

The day Maria left was also the day guests arrived at the estate.

“A guest is coming. You must not leave this room. Do you understand?”

Upon receiving word of the visit, Isabella’s father gripped her shoulders firmly and left.

The master and mistress of the house thought it might inconvenience their guests to have a child present. Whenever visitors arrived, therefore, Isabella was left alone in a narrow room.

She lay facedown on the carpet and opened her book. As always, she intended to pass the time by reading.

But, for some reason, she could not focus. The words entered her eyes, but the story refused to settle in her mind. She found herself repeatedly rereading the same passage without realizing how many times she had done so.

On most days, the young master would slip away midway through the reception, complaining that entertaining guests was unbearably dull.

Today, however, he did not come at all.

“I’m bored.”

Muttering to herself, Isabella closed the book.

She couldn’t go outside and reading had lost its charm, too. Rolling back and forth on the floor, she stared at the curtains, which fluttered every time the wind blew. The faint brushing of the fabric against the window frame was grating on her nerves.

She rose to close the window.

By chance, she spotted Logan outside.

A spark of delight flickered through her boredom at the sight of him. She hurried to open the window wide and call out to him.

“Logan!”

A girl’s voice rang out from somewhere beyond the trees.

Hearing it, Logan stopped and turned around. A young girl was running towards him.

She looked slightly younger than Isabella.

She wore a pink dress with a ribbon, and her neatly tied-back hair was adorned with a matching one.

Isabella, who had been about to call his name, pressed herself instinctively against the wall instead. Slipping behind the curtain, she watched them in secret.

Logan, walking ahead, did not slow his steps. He seemed annoyed.

The girl hurried after him persistently.

The sight stirred something uncomfortably familiar in Isabella.

‘Who is she?’

She had never seen this young guest before.

Then, in a motion that felt too natural, the girl reached out and grabbed Logan’s hand.

“Got you!”

Logan turned sharply at her touch.

For a moment, it seemed as though he met her gaze at the window.

But he looked away just as quickly.

His expression tightened with irritation, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Still holding onto her, he turned and walked back the way he had come.

Watching them, Isabella felt a strange, sharp ache in her chest.

The young master had always been alone with her.

Seeing him walk beside another child felt unfamiliar — somehow wrong.

Without realizing it, Isabella gripped the curtain tightly in her small fist.

She was too young to understand the word ‘jealousy’, so she did not recognize the feeling swelling inside her.

Laughter drifted in from outside.

It was the other girl’s laughter.

Unable to bear the sound, Isabella slammed the window shut.

The place beside the young master is mine.

A heavy weight settled in her heart, as though something precious had been quietly taken away.

“Fine. If this is how it’s going to be, why did you make me stay at the estate?”

Sulking, Isabella slid down the wall and buried her face in her knees.

If she had known she would spend the entire day alone in this room, she would have gone to the countryside with her mother.

She already missed her.

Even though her mother had only left that morning.

***

“Isabella. You’re not asleep already, are you?”

It was long after sunset when Logan found Isabella, who had been withdrawn all day. The adults’ banquet was still in progress. Her father had briefly stopped by to set out her dinner before leaving again, and she had just finished getting ready for bed.

“What is it?”

At the sound of the knock, Isabella cracked the door open and peeked out. The moment she saw the young master, she was reminded of the scene from earlier that day. She opened the door only halfway.

“I know Henry’s coming in late tonight. Come to my room.”

Acting as though nothing had happened, Logan led her naturally out into the hallway. Her nightgown brushed the floor as she went. Although she remembered her father’s warning not to leave the room until the guests had departed, she could not refuse the young master.

In truth, she was glad he had come looking for her.

They muffled their footsteps as they made their way to his room. Food had been laid out on the table. It didn’t look particularly elegant — it was probably smuggled in his pockets — but the delicious scent filled the air.

Isabella turned to him, her eyes wide.

“You were stuck in your room all day. I thought you might be hungry.”

Logan shrugged, as though it were no big deal.

In truth, he had seen Amelia standing by the window earlier that afternoon.

He had meant to shake off Amelia, who had been clinging to him all day, and go to Isabella instead. But no matter what he did, Amelia followed close behind.

By the time dinner arrived, he was still stuck sitting next to her. If anyone found out that he had left Amelia to go and see Isabella, his father would certainly reprimand him.

When he turned back towards the garden, he caught sight of Isabella watching him from behind the curtain.

He could not forget the look in her eyes.

That was why he had come to her.

“Eat quickly. It’s gone cold.”

Logan pushed the food towards her, claiming that he wasn’t hungry. With Maria gone, he was certain that she hadn’t eaten enough at lunch.

The memory of that afternoon returned, and Isabella’s expression dimmed for a moment. But she was still just a child. When faced with food, she couldn’t sulk for long.

In one corner of the table sat something she rarely saw: Fresh cream cake.

“I want cake.”

Although she had already eaten dinner, there was always room for dessert.

She filled herself with jelly, biscuits, and cake until she nearly burst.

Afterwards, she lingered in his room.

The young master was as gentle as ever, and that alone eased her earlier resentment.

They passed the time playing with a globe that had been given to him as a gift by one of the guests.

At some point, she fell asleep on his bed.

“Mm…”

When she stirred again, it was because she needed to use the toilet.

The banquet had ended.

It was late at night.