Andrew returned to the estate and handed his gloves to the servant waiting at the entrance.

As he unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie, he moved forward calmly and purposefully.

Just as he was about to pass through the doorway, his gaze brushed over a maid descending the stairs, and he stopped in his tracks.

The halt was so sudden that even Padleton, who was following close behind, was caught off guard.

The head maid, Susan, stepped forward and bowed before him.

The other maids behind her froze and quickly stepped aside to clear his path.

“What are you doing?”

Holding a small jewelry box in her arms, Susan bowed slightly at his quiet voice.

“By the madam’s order, we were clearing out the young lady’s bedroom, Your Grace.”

Andrew’s gaze fell to the box in her hands.

In the silence, the sound of someone swallowing nervously seemed unnaturally loud.

“Open it.”

Susan nodded and lifted the lid at his command.

Inside were expensive accessories and rare jewels, all arranged neatly.

Rive Blackwood had never been a woman who knew how to enjoy luxury.

Perhaps that was why she had once irritated him with her plain, unadorned appearance.

At one point, he had even instructed Padleton to deliver jewels to her.

And yet—

Those very pieces remained exactly as they were.

Not a single one was missing.

Not a single one had been added.

“Where is my mother?”

Padleton drew in a breath.

Susan’s hands trembled as she closed the lid of the box, her shoulders flinching.

“She is in the young lady’s bedroom, Your Grace.”

His footsteps echoed as he moved forward, each one swallowing the fragile silence that filled the space.

When he disappeared from view, Susan pressed a trembling hand to her chest, traced a quiet sign of prayer, and brought the ring on her finger to her lips.

Then she hurried down the stairs.

The maids following behind her wore strained expressions, as though they might burst into tears at any moment.

***

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Elizabeth Blackwood frowned as she saw Andrew standing at the doorway.

After surveying the room, now nearly cleared out, she crossed her arms and stepped toward her son.

“Wouldn’t it be ridiculous to leave it as it is?”

“….”

“So I had it cleared out while we’re at it.”

Andrew’s gaze drifted over the room—now emptied of any trace of warmth.

Then, quietly, he let out a short laugh.

Elizabeth’s brows lifted, caught off guard by the reaction.

“…Yes. This is just like you, Mother.”

“What?”

“So—what will you do now? Now that I’ve lost my wife, will you put me back on the marriage market?”

The Duke of Blackwood was the talk of the town, both in the papers and among high society.

She could not allow her son’s dignity to be dragged through the mud like this.

All those years spent hoping for an heir had been in vain, but Rive Blackwood was dead.

There was nothing more to it.

Now it was time to restore what had been lost.

“Andrew.”

“Go back.”

“Andrew!”

As he turned to leave, Elizabeth grabbed his collar, her face flushed red.

“I will not tolerate such a stain on the House of Blackwood.”

“….”

“I will not allow my only son to suffer such humiliation.”

Her grip tightened, her fingers paling against the fabric.

His pale eyes—cold as winter—looked down at her without emotion.

“I believe I’ve already given you everything you wanted.”

His lips curved faintly, but his voice was flat—cutting her off without hesitation.

“You wanted me to form a connection with Bricklin—your dear friend’s family—and I did. I’m sure you’re well aware of how that turned out.”

“….”

“And then, to bury the scandal, you searched for a convenient sacrifice.”

“Yes—you chose a pitiful prey. A woman you could discard at any time without consequence.”

“You know how the Grandlys are—money is all they care about.”

“….”

“And now that even that woman is dead and gone…”

his gaze sharpened, steady and unyielding—

“Do you need another sacrifice?”

“Andy, that’s—!”

A quiet ripple stirred in the depths of his gaze; the kind of stillness that precedes a storm.

Its oppressive weight silenced Elizabeth on the spot.

“How far must Blackwood fall before you finally give up?”

“How could you say such a thing—”

Andrew brushed her hand aside.

Without saying another word, he turned and walked down the corridor.

The sound of his heavy, steady, unyielding footsteps filled the space.

He had always been a compliant son.

But since her husband’s sudden death from a heart attack, Elizabeth had become increasingly attached to Andrew.

In her youth, Elizabeth had taken immense pride in her status as a princess of the imperial family.

Even becoming a duchess had not been enough to satisfy her.

It was her son who had fulfilled that lingering ambition.

He was a perfect being, born of imperial blood and high nobility.

To mold him into that ideal, Elizabeth devoted herself entirely to him.

The House of Blackwood had to remain great — always.

She would never allow anything to tarnish her noble name and standing.

Turning to the servants, who stood frozen like statues, Elizabeth had already regained her composure.

“What are you standing around for? Throw out everything that’s left—tear down the curtains too. Now.”

***

“You’re telling me you don’t know anything?”

Paul stared blankly at Marsili.

“Grandfather, she’s pregnant.”

“She has a name. It’s Lizzie.”

Paul dropped heavily into the chair across from him, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything.

Unlike Paul, who was still overwhelmed, Marsili remained calm.

“Her family will come looking for her. We don’t even know why she came all the way here. We could end up being accused of kidnapping.”

“Paul.”

“…Yes, Grandfather.”

“I’ve already promised not to ask her anything. And turning away someone with nowhere to go… isn’t that a bit too cruel?”

“But…”

Paul trailed off, letting out a long, weary sigh.

After a year and three months away, he had finally returned home to find that things had changed.

The house he had once shared with his grandfather now had a stranger in it.

A woman — and not alone.

Had she run away from somewhere? Or had she been cast out?

Her situation might have been pitiful, but this was not something to be taken lightly.

“Look.”

“…What?”

“She was so guarded at first. And now—she smiles like that.”

“….”

“She looks just like your grandmother when she was young.”

Upon hearing these words, Paul turned towards the window.

The afternoon sun was warm.

The woman, who had just finished hanging out the washing, stood there wiping her forehead — her figure resembling a painting.

A breeze caught the hem of her dress.

There, unmistakably, her slightly rounded belly stood out against her slender frame.

“…She doesn’t really look like Grandmother, though.”

“What?”

“She’s much prettier.”

“…You brat.”

Paul casually gestured toward the window with his thumb, and Marsili clicked his tongue.

Paul let out a helpless laugh.

“You’ve really gotten old, Grandfather. You’ve always been kind, sure—but I’ve never seen you go this far for someone.”

“She looked… like her soul had already withered.”

“…What?”

“She seemed so lonely. So utterly alone. Before I knew it… I had already reached out.”

“….”

“Well… it didn’t help that she was so beautiful it was hard to look away. Just like you’re doing now.”

“Grandfather!”

“It feels like I’ve gained another granddaughter. That alone makes me happy.”

Marsili let out a hearty laugh.

Paul’s face flushed bright red, and Marsili watched his grandson with a gentle, knowing gaze.

“If you’re alright with it, Paul… I’d like to welcome Lizzie as part of our family.”

“….”

“Would that be alright?”

Paul tilted his head and thought for a moment.

After a brief silence, he made his decision.

He rose to his feet.

A soft warmth, like the lazy glow of the afternoon sun, spread across his face.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you? Why even ask me?”

“….”

“It’s your choice, Grandfather. I’ll respect it.”

Marsili opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of the door opening suddenly cut him off.

Rive stepped inside, holding a basket of freshly washed laundry and wearing a broad smile.

Bathed in sunlight, she seemed almost radiant.

For a moment, both men simply looked at her.

“Grandfather! The weather’s so nice today. The laundry dried in no time—”

Rive faltered mid-sentence when her gaze met Paul’s.

Her fingers tightened around the basket and she trembled slightly.

The sudden heaviness in the room made her uneasy.

Had something gone wrong between them?

So many thoughts were racing through her mind that she didn’t even notice Paul walking towards her.

“Lizzie.”

At the unfamiliar name—the one she had given Marsili in place of her real one—Rive flinched.

“Welcome to the Burnett family.”

Her gaze shifted to Marsili.

He returned her gaze with a gentle smile and gave her a small, reassuring nod.

Something tightened in her chest.

She was afraid.

From the moment she escaped from Blackwood until she discovered the child growing inside her, she had felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff.

She had lost everything.

There was nowhere left for her to go.

And yet Marsili had reached out to her.

Warmly.

Without hesitation.

Although she felt she didn’t deserve it, she took his hand.

In the overwhelming darkness ahead of her, his hand was the only light she had.

As her belly slowly began to grow and the presence of the child within her became more real.

A quiet, selfish desire took root within her: She wanted to live.

Even in this harsh, unforgiving reality.

“…Thank you.”

She kept her head bowed, her shoulders trembling.

Paul glanced at Marsili, unsure what to do.

Marsili gave him a small, encouraging nod.

Hesitantly, Paul placed a hand on her shoulder.

Then, gently, he began to pat her on the back.

At last, Rive broke down.

The tears she had been holding back spilled over, and she began to cry openly and without restraint.