Isabella stepped out of the door her servant opened, her gait lofty and dignified. A long, elegant white feather—imported from some distant land—was pinned to her refined hat.

‘How much did that frivolous luxury cost?’

Their eyes met.

Isabella flinched, startled. The more shaken she looked, the more Rosie’s gaze fixed on the hat, calmly assessing its price by sight alone.

Noticing it, Isabella jerked, gripping the hat tightly with her gloved hand as if to hide it.

Her expression twisted with displeasure, but Rosie approached her with composed steps.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mother. It seems you’ve been selling off the jewels you own.”

Cut off from the money supply, Isabella had resorted to selling her personal jewels. For someone as proud as her, it must have been unbearably humiliating and to be caught in the very act.

Isabella’s face flushed red with shame. Yet she lifted her chin and scoffed, folding her arms as if she held some secret advantage.

“You’ve been very busy, I hear. Word is you even went to that vulgar brothel district. The stench must still cling to you.”

Had she planted someone to follow her?

Rosie had been discreet, how had she heard so quickly?

Seeing Rosie’s brief hesitation, Isabella smirked triumphantly.

“What business did you have there? Were you there to secretly receive the heir’s seed or something?”

It was a familiar insult.

Jenny, standing beside Rosie, clenched her small fists in silence, her face saying every word she didn’t dare speak.

Rosie gently patted Jenny’s hand and replied with a serene smile.

“You must be quite relaxed these days, Mother. Enough leisure to send people tailing me. Do you have extra money I’m unaware of…?”

Rosie’s gaze drifted to the heavy purse held by Isabella’s servant. Her meaning was unmistakable—hand it over.

Isabella startled and quickly stepped forward to block her.

“…What do you think you’re doing?”

Her personal servant hesitated.

Caught between Isabella’s authority and Rosie’s quiet, chilling pressure, the servant’s wavering gaze eventually shifted—toward Rosie.

In the end, Isabella’s personal servant squeezed her eyes shut and silently held out the purse of money.

“I’ll keep this safe!”

Jenny snatched it up with barely contained excitement.

Isabella’s eyes flew wide, nearly rolling back in outrage.

She reached toward Rosie, raising her voice.

“What do you think you’re—!”

But noblewomen exiting the jewelry shop and those passing by had already stopped to watch, whispering among themselves.

Some even laughed.

Face flaming bright red, Isabella snatched her hand back. She had lost control for a moment, nearly striking Rosie the way she usually did, only to stop when she remembered the eyes watching.

Grinding her teeth, she spoke through the side of her mouth.

“There are too many onlookers. Let’s step into a tea house first.”

“Yes, Mother.”

With a perfectly obedient expression, Rosie followed behind her at an unhurried pace though a faint, icy smile lingered at the corner of her lips.

***

The tea house Isabella chose had private rooms—quiet, secluded spaces where the scent of fresh cedarwood drifted through warm steam from the teapot.

But between the two women, only a cold tension filled the air.

Rosie didn’t touch her tea. She spoke first.

“What I want to set right is simply the duchy’s honor. That’s all. So even if it’s inconvenient, please endure it.”

“And what exactly do you think you’re setting right?”

Isabella feigned innocence, but Rosie answered with a cool smile.

“Do you really think the Duke knows nothing?”

“You dare bring up Callios in front of me?”

In truth, it made sense.

No matter how much Callios avoided interfering in domestic affairs, he was not oblivious to the rumors and reports circulating through the duchy.

“I’ve known about the internal financial problems for a long time.”

He’d told her that himself.

He knew and chose to look the other way.

Callios, in his own way, had been considerate of Isabella and her son, Pante. He hadn’t oppressed them. He had simply hoped they would all live together as one family with Rosie.

Isabella spoke through gritted teeth.

“The duchy was mine to begin with.”

“It was.”

Rosie lightly traced the rim of her teacup, then looked straight into Isabella’s distorted eyes.

“And that’s why I’ve always adjusted to you. Every time.”

Until both her body and heart were worn threadbare.

That was why many of the household staff sided with Isabella and Pante. To them, the legitimate wife and legitimate son had been robbed of their estate by a bastard born of a concubine.

In a way, they weren’t wrong.

In the beginning, Rosie had even felt sorry for Isabella.

How furious must she have been to see the duchy handed not to her proper son, but to an illegitimate child like Callios?

Rosie had resolved to treat her well.

But now…

She let out a bitter breath.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have anything left to give you.”

Looking at her mother-in-law’s unrepentant face, Rosie was transported back to that fateful day.

It was the morning after Callios had become duke.

Following their passionate night together, he mounted his black horse at dawn and left immediately in response to the Emperor’s summons.

Before riding off, he gave her a brief but earnest message.

“If I’m not here, then you’re the one in charge.”

At that, Rosie made up her mind.

‘If Callios is gone, then I must protect his sister and mother in his place.’

Her mother, Asana Moavis, was a gentle woman who had always taught her to choose the right path.

Protecting someone meant safeguarding their heart as well as their person. Rosie had once imagined how devastated Isabella must have been, and thought.

‘I should comfort Mother…’

She had believed it was her duty to soothe Isabella’s wounded pride. That before celebrating Callios becoming Duke, she should first tend to those who had been pushed aside.

‘She says she’s fine, but she must be hurting on the inside…’

So Rosie had promised herself she would be her support.

It was right then that Isabella summoned her to the garden.

Back then, Isabella said nothing. Not until the tea had grown completely cold.

Rosie sat stiffly, anxiously rubbing her fingers together, watching her expression.

“Mother… are you all right?”
“……”
“If you have anything to say, please tell me. I’ll listen to everything.”
“……”
“Your tea’s gone cold, Mother.”

Just as Rosie stood up to pour some more hot water, Isabella poured the cold tea over Rosie’s head.

The cold tea crashed down on Rosie. Stunned and dripping, Rosie blinked, her eyes wide.

“M—Mother?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, my dear.”

Smiling with a venomous sweetness, Isabella seized Rosie’s drenched hand. Her sharp nails dug into the back of it, drawing blood.

“How long do you think Callios will keep returning home safely?”

The prediction chilled her more than the tea. Rosie froze, soaked, staring blankly.

“If he keeps draining his body on those campaigns, Callios will die one day. No matter how skilled he is, that place k*lls men over the smallest mistake. All of us think so.”

“…What?”

“Sure, he’ll return once or twice. But in the end, he’ll never come back. That’s the fate of men who live by the sword. So wouldn’t it be wise for you to keep me and my son pleased?”

Behind her, Isabella’s loyal attendants bowed in unison. They had chosen, in that moment, to close their eyes to everything that would follow.

Sensing that something was horribly wrong, Rosie stammered.

“W-what are you saying— Aah!”

There was no answer, only the pain of her hair being pulled.

Isabella dragged her into a dark, suffocating room by the roots of her hair.

“Please open the door, Mother. I can’t breathe— please!”

The small, sealed room was like a prison. Its stale air choked her.

“Rio isn’t going to die! He always comes back victorious!”

Rosie had insisted on that.

Callios was the kind of man who always kept his promises.

Locked away in the dark all night, trembling, she finally understood.

Something was very wrong.

Isabella was not someone who needed comforting. She merely needed someone to direct her anger at.

Proof of this came every time news of Callios’s victory reached the estate. Rosie was beaten out of frustration and dragged back into that wretched room.

When Isabella discovered she was pregnant, things got far worse.

***

In the quiet tea room of the present, Rosie stared pointedly at the cold tea.

Isabella flinched.

Rosie let out a faint, humorless laugh.

“Are you frightened? That I might pour this over your head?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t worry. I prefer hot things over cold.”

Isabella looked at her as though she were insane.

Rosie met that hostile gaze without blinking.

“I realized it far too late. No matter how hard I tried, Mother… you were never going to change.”

If Isabella had shown even the slightest shred of remorse and apologized wholeheartedly, she might have been willing to forgive her.

Thankfully, though, such foolishness was unnecessary. Isabella showed no trace of remorse. Only resentment and bitterness.

And for that, Rosie was grateful.

Just then, as if sensing that something was amiss, a faint crack appeared in Isabella’s icy hostility. Suspicion crept across her face.

“Callios said he wanted to speak with me separately. What did you tell him?”

‘Callios? Calling for Isabella?’

Rosie’s brows tightened. What exactly was he planning to say?

Isabella’s lips trembled as she pressed again, as though seeking reassurance.

“Surely… surely my good daughter-in-law wouldn’t do such a thing. You’ve behaved so well until now, haven’t you?”

A good daughter-in-law would never speak as she did, pouring cold tea over her head.

Rosie, who had been sitting with her back straight and her face expressionless, delivered her verdict in a tone as cold as ice.

“If you hand over everything you’ve been hiding, then I’ll pretend there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Y-you insolent—!”

“That’s the last courtesy I’m offering. It’s better than having your belongings seized by force in front of the servants. Isn’t that the more refined option?”

Leaning forward slightly, close enough for Isabella to feel her breath, Rosie whispered quietly and severely.

“You do love being refined, after all.”