Chapter 3

3

The father and son didn't return until late that evening.

Archer came running in, clutching a violin, but his face fell the moment he saw me. "Why are you standing there? You're such a buzzkill."

I didn't say a word. I just watched him quietly.

Archer rolled his eyes, his impatience clear. "What are you staring at? I'm going to my room."

The first Duchess was a refined, quiet woman.

When I first married Silas, he respected me, even though he mourned his late wife.

Archer was only three months old back then. He had no memory of his real mother.

In the beginning, he was so clingy and sweet to me.

But I don't know when things started to change.

The school bag I carefully sewed for him was replaced by one embroidered with a Silver Lily.

The violin I gifted him gathered dust, replaced by one in the corner with that same lily carving.

The word "Mama" that used to be always on his lips was replaced by "Sylvia."

I sighed as Silas walked into the room.

His hand was wrapped in a handkerchief with a Silver Lily in the corner.

A new scent sachet hung from his waist, also bearing that same lily.

I spoke up. "Silas, I noticed your old sachet was empty. I made you a new one to help you sleep."

Silas took it with a distant look and tossed it onto a table. "Fine. I'm taking Archer to the Springside Villa for a few days."

Springside Villa.

Sylvia Thorne―no, Sylvia Vance―the woman Archer mentioned this morning, was the heiress of that estate.

"Father!" Archer ran back out. "Can I bring some gifts for Sylvia when we go?"

"Of course. Sylvia has been so patient teaching you the violin. It's only right. Write a list and give it to the Duchess to prepare. Make sure they are expensive."

He spoke to me as if I were a nameless servant.

"You better put some effort into it," Archer snapped at me. "If you mess this up, I'll never forgive you!"

He ran off, excited and full of life.

I nodded slowly. "I will have the butler prepare everything you need."

"Good," Silas said, turning to leave.

"Silas," I called out. "There is one more thing."

He turned back, his brows furrowed with irritation. "What now?"

I held out the divorce papers and placed them on the table between us.

Silas froze. He stared at the document, then looked at me with sharp, suspicious eyes.

"You want a divorce? Just because I'm taking Archer to see Sylvia?"

"Lydia, have you finally lost your mind? I thought you were a dignified Duchess, but you're just a petty, jealous fool."

"Sylvia and I only talk about music. Don't pull our names into your filthy thoughts."

I looked him in the eye, my voice calm. "This has nothing to do with her."

"You don't love me, and I no longer love you. Why should we keep making each other miserable?"

Silas laughed as if I had told the world's funniest joke. "You don't love me? Then why did you beg to marry me seven years ago?"

I remained silent, watching his arrogance. "Are you refusing the separation?"

Silas grabbed the papers and tore them into a hundred pieces.

"Don't think you can use this to stop me from going to the villa. I've seen these pathetic tricks before."

"I won't divorce you, and you'll never leave. The law says a woman needs her fingers crushed to earn her freedom. Do you have the guts for that?"

I watched his back as he walked away. Quietly, I knelt and picked up the scraps of paper.

There was never any love between us.

When we married, people said a girl from a minor branch like me was lucky to catch a Duke.

For seven years, I tried to be a real wife to him.

But he never gave me an ounce of his heart.

Now he and Sylvia were in love. Even Archer preferred her.

I was trying to step aside gracefully, but he wouldn't let me.

Men are truly such pathetic, power-hungry creatures.