In the quiet calm of the early evening, after the sun had set, the gentle fragrance of tea lingered in the greenhouse garden.

Adorned with rare winter-blooming plants and flowers, the space exuded a quiet comfort that usually provided heartfelt solace simply by being there.

Elizabeth took a slow sip of warm chamomile tea, her gaze drifting towards Heather Bricklin, who was sitting across from her looking distinctly displeased.

Not a single corner of the garden that she had once loved could hold her attention.

“So in the end, I’m the only one who looks like a fool—for trying to persuade Andrew based solely on your promise to produce an heir. What am I supposed to do now?”

Elizabeth’s sharp voice lifted Heather’s gaze from the edge of the table.

Her expression showed no sign of being shaken.

If anything, her green eyes—once dull—now seemed bright and composed.

“Isn’t it still too early to draw conclusions, Madam?”

“Too early…? So you’re saying you’re confident.”

“As you know, Madam, the Duke and I were once close enough for talk of an engagement. Though it was brief, we did share genuine affection.”

“……”

“He likely needed time. And I’ve waited accordingly. Now… there’s nothing more he can do.”

Elizabeth let out a scoff, setting her teacup down onto the saucer as she watched Heather speak so calmly.

Between them, an ornate centerpiece of flowers and intricate decorations shimmered under the amber glow of the lights.

“You think something like that will sway Andrew’s heart?”

“If his heart doesn’t return, then I’ll simply consider another method. After all, the Duke has no intention of forming ties with any other women. That leaves me as the only one who can bear the Blackwood heir.”

“I see. And what exactly is this ‘other method’ you’re thinking of?”

It was absurd.

And yet Elizabeth could not let go of hope, clinging to the belief that Heather Bricklyn might somehow make it possible.

Andrew had already put them under surveillance.

As if he had anticipated her plan to publicize the marriage, he had banned all outsiders from entering the estate.

Even now, Derek, his attendant, was probably listening just beyond the door.

Fortunately, the greenhouse was well soundproofed.

Andrew’s words that the Blackwood line would end with him had not been a lie.

Elizabeth’s patience was wearing thin.

Her obsession with preserving the Blackwood bloodline was beginning to cloud her judgement.

Heather, from the Bricklin family, would have been a fitting match for Andrew.

That had never changed, in the past or now.

If anything, it was the Grandly family who had always been unworthy.

“If I become pregnant, he’ll have no choice but to marry me.”

“…What?”

“I’ll have a child first.”

Her voice was bold and confident.

Elizabeth stared at Heather in disbelief. Then, as Heather smiled sweetly and her eyes curved into crescents, Elizabeth scoffed. She was no ordinary girl, as she had been before.

“So please—continue to trust me and help me. You’re the only one who can.”

Watching Heather tilt her teacup with graceful composure, Elizabeth finally burst into laughter.

For someone who had spent five years alone, she was remarkably daring.

Elizabeth found herself rather taken with Heather’s shameless ambition.

‘Very well.’
‘Use whatever means you like. Let’s see how far you can go.’

Whether she would succeed, that remained to be seen.

***

“Hey—don’t tell me you spent the entire night out here in this cold?”

A guard was awoken at dawn by his parched throat. Spotting a dark figure outside the window, he hurried out, hastily throwing on his coat and hat.

The man, who was leaning against the wall and holding a wilted bouquet, slowly moved his unfocused gaze.

Fearing that he might be dead, the guard rushed over and shook him.

“Hey, young man! Pull yourself together!”

After being shaken for a while, a faint focus gradually returned to his brown eyes.

Relieved that the young man hadn’t frozen to death, the guard clicked his tongue.

“Why didn’t you go somewhere warm? What kind of foolishness is this?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Paul struggled to his feet and bowed his head.

Seeing his broad shoulders slump, the guard hesitated before glancing around uneasily.

“Well… I wasn’t supposed to say anything—strict orders to keep quiet—but…”

“……”

“There was an incident here yesterday.”

“…What?”

His fingertips were numb, each joint dulled by the cold.

His nose and ears felt so stiff he could barely tell if they were still intact.

Despite his miserable state, Paul snapped to attention at the guard’s words.

“Thinking back on the description you gave yesterday… I’m pretty sure it was that woman.”

“Sir—what do you mean by that?”

“A high-ranking gentleman carried off a woman who had collapsed. I saw him head toward the Versailles Hotel just up ahead.”

“…Are you sure?”

“I’m telling you, it’s true. But don’t go telling anyone you heard it from me—understood? Go check the hotel! The woman he was carrying had hair that shone like gold.”

Before the guard had even finished speaking, Paul had already rushed past him.

“Sir—thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Hey! Careful—you’ll fall!”

His pulse thundered in his ears.

Although it was still too early for dawn on this long winter night, the dark blue sky had begun to emit a faint, dim light.

The bouquet of lilies he was holding swayed with each frantic step.

The wind scattered the withered petals, which drifted through the air before settling softly on the thawing ground.

‘What if she’s not there?’

The thought quickly dissolved—replaced by rising fear.

‘Please… let her be safe. Let nothing have happened. Please… please, Liz.’

His heart felt as though it might burst. His breath caught in his throat with every step, burning as he took it.

The doorman standing at the entrance to the Hôtel de la Porte Dorée rubbed his sleepy eyes.

Spotting a dark figure rushing towards him, he widened his eyes in shock.

Before he could react, the man stormed past him into the lobby.

Startled, the doorman hurried after him.

“Paul!”

The female receptionist had just lifted her head in confusion when Paul stopped abruptly.

Turning towards the sound, he saw Liz running towards him; her face was pale and drawn.

Time seemed to slow down.

It felt unreal, like a dream.

Her golden hair swayed softly with each step.

As she lowered her swollen, reddened eyelids, tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

Paul opened his arms.

Liz ran straight into them.

The bouquet of lilies in his hand fell onto the marble floor.

Holding her tightly, Paul buried his face in the curve of her neck and exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“Liz… are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Let’s go. Please… let’s go home.”

“Liz.”

“I want to go home, Paul.”

Burying her face in his chest, Rive murmured, sounding as if she were crying.

Paul gently took hold of her arms, pulling her back and lowering himself to look at her face.

As she slowly lifted her bowed head, which looked as if it might collapse to the ground at any moment, her fragile state became clear — she looked as though she might fall at any moment.

Pressing his lips together, Paul took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Alright… let’s go.”

There was so much he wanted to ask her, but not now.

He was worried that he might go mad if he didn’t find out what had happened, yet he couldn’t bring himself to press Rive for answers.

Taking Rive’s hand, Paul led her towards the hotel entrance.

The doorman, who had followed them, stepped awkwardly aside to clear their path.

A sharp gust of cold wind brushed against their faces.

“Let’s go back to the lodging, pack our things, and head straight to the station.”

“…Okay.”

Having been awake all night, Rive suddenly became aware of the silence beyond the door.

Realizing that the corridor was empty, she ran.

She hadn’t even thought to grab her hat or coat.

All she wanted was to escape as quickly as possible.

She couldn’t tell Paul anything — not yet, at least.

But once they returned to Southfirth, she would tell him everything.

The thought of how he must have searched for her all night made her throat tighten.

Her cold hand clung to his, refusing to let go.

His presence slowly began to clear the chaos in her mind, giving her a sense of safety.

Together, they hurried away from the Versailles Hotel.

From the lounge in the lobby, a man watched the entire scene unfold with quiet interest.

Only when they turned the corner and disappeared from view did he finally look away.

Rising from his seat, he walked towards the front desk with long, unhurried strides.

In the center of the lobby, he saw the fallen bouquet of lilies.

With one hand in his pocket, Andrew stopped in front of it.

Without hesitation, he crushed the flowers beneath his shoe.

“My husband.”

He knew.

“He must have realized I’m gone. He’ll be searching for me desperately.”

He knew those words were a ridiculous lie.

The crushed lilies clung stubbornly to the sole of his shoe.

He knew exactly how to suppress this wretched feeling.

‘Run as far as you can, Rive. In the end… the place you wish to return to will soon cease to exist.’