Kieron wondered if he had misheard.

What had she just said?

Until a moment ago, she had been deep in thought, and the subject she had suddenly brought up was completely unrelated to anything they had been discussing.

Could something really be this completely out of the blue?

And at such a bewildering moment, too?

He thought back to the warm atmosphere they had shared just moments earlier and questioned whether now was the right time to suggest they share a bed.

At the same time, he realized just how flustered he was, far more than the situation warranted.

“Sh-sharing a bed? Why?”

He was so startled he even stuttered—without realizing it.

Ariadne, lost in her own thoughts, seemed oblivious.

“Well, I was wondering if your suggestion back then was because you were worried about my reputation in society. If that’s the case, then…”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to go to such lengths for her. She looked at him with gratitude, as though he had shown her extraordinary kindness.

Seeing that look almost made him feel guilty for no reason.

Kieron felt cold sweat forming as he watched her misinterpret his simple attempt to improve their relationship as an act of great nobility and consideration.

“That… wasn’t really the reason.”

“Then I’m relieved.”

“I was worried you might force yourself to hold someone you don’t even care for out of obligation, Your Excellency.”

Ariadne let out a visible sigh of relief.

Hearing those words, Kieron felt a sharp prick of irritation.

She had seemed more mature lately, yet here she was again, saying something utterly childish.

What did she mean by ‘not to hold someone you don’t care for’?

Was she implying that if he cared for someone — anyone — he should hold on to them, even if they weren’t his wife?

What kind of ridiculous reasoning was that?

Kieron frowned slightly, wondering what on earth went through her mind.

“That sounds as if you’re saying it’s fine to hold anyone as long as I have feelings for them.”

He was certain that he had told her many times that he had no intention of divorcing or leaving her. And yet she kept acting as if none of that mattered.

This implied that his feelings for her were irrelevant.

It suggested that Ariadne Ambrose — or rather, Ariadne Peyton — was not the only person who should stand by his side.

‘How could she not understand something so obvious?’

With a deeper frown, Kieron firmly repeated himself.

“I have no intention of keeping anyone beside me who isn’t my wife.”

Just in case she forgot again.

Hearing those words, Ariadne faltered, suddenly unable to respond. In truth, she had completely ignored what he had said earlier, and now she couldn’t deny it.

Kieron spoke again, his tone firm.

“Don’t call it consideration, whether it’s sharing a bed or anything else. Just tell me. I’m not going to disguise what happens between a husband and wife as ‘kindness’.”

For a married couple, these things were natural.

Sharing a bed — and everything that came with it — was not something he intended to avoid or pretend didn’t exist.

Calling such an ordinary duty ‘consideration’ or ‘gratitude’ was needless embellishment. To him, these were obligations that both spouses naturally owed each other.

So he finished with even more resolve: He would neither dress it up nor run from it.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready. Don’t worry about anything—just tell me when you are.”

Upon hearing his words, Ariadne parted her lips and lowered her head.

For a moment, he wondered if she was crying, but he could hear no sobbing. Instead, he saw her hands rise to cover her face.

Whatever she was thinking, he did not mind. He had said everything he needed to say — now the decision was hers.

A long silence passed.

“…If I’m ready, I can just tell you?”

She asked in a whisper.

Her lowered gaze was faintly red, and her face flushed.

Kieron found himself wearing the faintest, almost imperceptible smile as he nodded.

***

That evening, Sylvia let out a long sigh as she looked at her increasingly unreasonable fiancé. She could not fathom why he was so fixated on his sister’s divorce and remarriage.

The Marquis of Peyton, the person who should have been most distressed, was shockingly calm.

Even the two brothers-in-law, who seemed poised to storm the Ambrose estate at any moment, were standing still.

So why was he the one making such a fuss?

“Heidel, really—what’s wrong with you? Even if you think it’s the better choice, it’s meaningless if she doesn’t want it.”

“You don’t understand, Sylvia. She’s such a fragile, delicate girl. No matter how hard she tries, she’ll only get hurt staying at the Duke of Ambrose’s side.”

“Right, but why do you get to decide that?”

Heidel remained stubborn.

She had heard that Jade, too, had tried to talk sense into him and failed. Thinking Heidel would listen to her had been nothing but arrogance on her part.

Sylvia pressed her fingers against her forehead and let out another deep sigh.

“No matter what you say, it’s the duchess’s life. I know you love your sister and want what’s best for her, but the choice is still hers.”

“That’s why I’m trying to help her make the right choice. Isn’t it obvious she’s walking straight toward a cliff? How can everyone just sit and watch?”

“Gods above… Heidel. This really isn’t like you. You know that, right?”

Sylvia was initially drawn to Heidel Peyton because of his cold logic and clarity. He was a man who could strip away emotion and get straight to the heart of a problem, seeking rational solutions.

He also cared about the people affected by those problems, in his own way. That was why she had liked him. But the man before her now was nothing like that.

“Are you saying it’s wrong for me to care about my sister?”

“…No. I’m saying your method is wrong. If you were truly right, the Marquis of Peyton would have acted long before you did.”

Their family adored their daughter.

Above all, the heart of the father who had raised her himself would be several times more desperate than that of an overbearing older brother.

If Ariadne were truly in danger and walking a disastrous path, the Marquis would have acted long before Heidel threw this tantrum.

Sylvia was certain of it.

“Right now you are the only one making a scene. No one is telling you you’re doing the right thing—no one is praising your choices. So why keep forcing everyone into this awful, uncomfortable situation?”

“I know it’s difficult, Sylvia. That’s why I keep apologizing.”

“Apologizing isn’t the point!”

She could only endure so much of this nonsense in person.

She had been meeting Ariadne almost three times a week lately and had repeatedly heard Heidel talk about divorce and remarriage.

Yet it was clear to anyone that Ariadne had absolutely no intention of getting divorced.

In fact, she had recently said that her marriage was improving, and she had grown visibly bashful whenever she spoke about Kieron Ambrose.

Why would she want to take the husband of someone who smiled like that because of him?

It was completely absurd. It was both unrealistic and illogical. And yet the only person obsessed with this ridiculous idea was Heidel Peyton himself.

No one in his family supported him.

Even his fiancee was beginning to turn away from him.

She truly disliked this version of him.

He wasn’t the man she had once loved, nor was he the man she loved now.

What stood before her was nothing more than a hollow shell, driven by stubborn obsession and a twisted fixation on his younger sister.

For the first time since they had met, Sylvia felt deeply and achingly disappointed.

“You’ve been so disappointing lately. Do you even realize that?”

“What?”

He was a disappointment. If he was this stubborn and unwilling to listen, how could she trust anything about their future?

She felt as though she might accidentally blurt out that she was breaking off the engagement. Sylvia stepped back, raising both hands.

“Enough. I can’t help you anymore. I already have mountains of work to do for the wedding. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Sylvia—”

Heidel whispered her name almost pleadingly, but she shook her head, firm.

“No. This is my wedding. Not the duchess’s.”

She already had countless other things to prepare for. She wasn’t going to worry about other people’s problems. Not anymore.

Today of all days, Kieron had gone to the Derayan estate himself.

Sylvia remembered the harsh expression on the Duke of Ambrose’s face when she saw him there.

It said that he wouldn’t tolerate anyone touching or bothering his wife.

Compared to that, Ariadne’s married life seemed far smoother — and safer — than Sylvia had thought.

“Please wake up, Heidel. What you need to focus on right now isn’t that.”

Sylvia shook her head one last time.

If talking wasn’t getting her anywhere, she either needed to walk away or the people he kept interfering with needed to tell him the truth.

Sylvia chose to walk away.

“I’m going now. If you can’t take your eyes off the duchess, there’s no reason for me to continue this pointless conversation.”

“Sylvia, how is this an unnecessary conversation?”

“Then tell me, do you really think this is a necessary conversation? For our wedding?”

‘Necessary for their wedding.’

At her sharp retort—Don’t say something so absurd—Heidel found himself unable to answer at all.