Chapter 192

Amaia’s promise to help Carmen was truly genuine.

She even suggested a shocking solution that Carmen would never have dared to imagine.

“Kill Viscount Ida and his son, then take over his lordship.”

“...”

“If you do that, in a few years, you might even be able to marry Peter officially.”

Carmen, who had assumed Amaia’s help would only go as far as turning a blind eye to her relationship with Peter, was stunned.

“Why would you go to such lengths to help me?”

“My superior has certain... interests that they’ve entrusted to Viscount Ida. I was sent here to ensure things were progressing smoothly.”

“Then shouldn’t you be dealing with me instead of Ida?”

“The focus isn’t on the person, but on the land. Anyone can take the manager’s place,” Amaia explained, her tone patient despite Carmen’s anxious interruptions.

As she watched Carmen’s uneasy expression, Amaia tried to reassure her.

“Just continue the work Ida was handling, and my superiors won’t dig too deeply into this matter.”

“...And who exactly are these superiors?”

“If the plan succeeds, you’ll find out, madam.”

“So you’re telling me I’ll become the lord and serve someone I don’t even know?”

“I’m not doing this out of charity,” Amaia replied sharply, leaving Carmen unable to argue.

It was a plot to kill a lord and his child and seize power.

If Amaia wanted something in return, Carmen had no choice but to comply.

Carmen swallowed slowly and nodded.

After their secret pact, Amaia gave Carmen her first instruction.

“From now on, become the most respectable lady anyone could imagine, so no one will suspect you, no matter what happens.”

Following her advice, Carmen became the most obedient wife anyone had ever seen.

She pretended to struggle with her distant relationship with her stepson and made a show of frugality, as if she had no interest in the viscount’s wealth.

Wearing drab, unremarkable clothes that didn’t suit her, she went about her days, allowing people to see her as nothing more than a woman of no consequence.

A quiet woman, unable to draw attention — especially a married one — was the last person people would notice.

And so, Carmen faded from everyone’s sight, biding her time as she waited for the day of reckoning.

Viscount Ida thought of her as a dim-witted woman, and his son Dieter regarded her warily, even as he willingly smoked the drugs Peter provided him.

Up until now, nothing had raised any suspicion.

Or so she thought…

Carmen frowned as she looked down at the paper in her hand.

Someone had slipped it secretly between her vanity mirror.

It was a note with no sender, containing a single message: “I’ll come soon, so wait without acting recklessly.”

There was also a warning to erase any issues before that time.

Carmen quickly burned the note over a candle flame, mentally going over anyone who might dare speak to her so disrespectfully.

There weren’t too many suspects that came to mind.

“Viscount Ida, Count Setabara or his close associates, or perhaps Amaia’s superiors whose identities remain unknown?”

Carmen quickly ruled out Viscount Ida and Amaia’s superiors.

There was no reason for Viscount Ida to leave a warning about visiting her, and Amaia’s superiors wouldn’t need to approach her in such an inefficient way. If they had any requests, they could simply convey them through Amaia, as they had done up to now.

“So, they finally found out,” Carmen concluded, sighing with a mixture of resignation and exhaustion, settling on Count Setabara as the culprit.

After all, it had already been a few years since she and Peter started associating with each other.

It seemed only a matter of time before Count Setabara would discover their relationship.

And recently, hadn’t the Duke and Duchess also caught wind of her infidelity?

“Too many secrets have leaked out.”

Peter, who had called her out a while ago, had recounted his ordeal with a pale face, explaining how he had been summoned in secret by the Duke and Duchess.

He confessed that, since they seemed to know everything, he had no choice but to tell the truth.

“They claimed to need an insider’s help and offered to keep quiet in exchange for compliance with their requests.”

The Duke and Duchess likely wanted an advantageous position in their new dealings with the viscounty.

If not that, they might have hoped to extract inside information from the viscount’s household.

Whatever task they planned to assign her, Carmen could readily comply as long as she only had to keep silent.

The one fortunate thing was that the Duke’s relationship with Viscount Ida wasn’t particularly friendly.

No, considering past events, it would be fairer to say they were practically enemies.

Carmen recalled how the Duke had always treated Viscount Ida with cold disdain.

If she took into account the resentment the Duke might harbor toward Ida, it almost felt like she could consider the Duke’s family as potential allies.

After all, Carmen was planning to kill Viscount Ida — a man the Duke loathed so much — soon enough.

That could only benefit the Duke’s household. It had to.

Now, it was too late to turn back; Carmen had already come too far down this path.

Quietly, she rose from her seat and walked over to the bed.

She grasped the silk cord hanging from her bedside table and gave it a slight tug, letting the distant chime of a bell resonate softly in the air.

Sitting motionless on the bed, Carmen gazed at the wall.

Soon, she heard footsteps approaching from beyond the hallway.

The door opened, and Amaia stepped inside.

“You called for me.”

The arrival of the very person she’d wanted to summon saved her the trouble of repeating herself.

Carmen slowly closed her eyes, then softly called Amaia’s name.

“Amaia.”

Had she caught a whiff of the lingering scent of burning paper in the air?

Amaia, who had been staring intently at the lamp on the vanity, belatedly lowered her head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Count Setabara has discovered my situation. It seems we’ll need to accelerate the plan.”

At that, a slight, unreadable expression crossed Amaia’s face.

According to their original plan, the execution was set for this winter.

During the heavy snowfall, when the ground would freeze and make movement difficult, it would also keep Setabara pinned down, allowing them to handle any aftermath to their advantage.

But if Count Setabara truly intended to visit Ida’s territory as he warned, that chance could vanish altogether.

Most likely, instead of supporting Carmen’s claim to kill Viscount Ida and take his place as lord, Count Setabara would kill Peter first—it was the simpler solution.

And as for Amaia?

Carmen understood that their plan wasn’t progressing as smoothly as it once had.

If Amaia decided to withdraw her support, Carmen didn’t have any way to stop her.

In fact, Amaia seemed hesitant, as though the mounting problems had given her reason to pause.

“When are the Duke and Duchess scheduled to visit next?”

Rather than begging for Amaia’s help, Carmen asked as though she fully expected her compliance, confident that she’d act in line with Carmen’s will—as if, by acting certain, she could make it a reality, just as someone once told her.

“Five days from now.”

After a long silence, Amaia finally responded, her tone respectful.

Carmen quietly exhaled a breath of relief, letting her eyes close.

“That morning would be best.”

With that declaration, Carmen absently brushed a lace glove over her hand, a familiar gesture. She longed to be free, truly free, at last.

***

“You’ll be late again today, I suppose.”

“Well, I never did it in my life before. I think I’m allowed to indulge a bit now, early in our marriage.”

“That may be true, but…”

“We didn’t even have a proper honeymoon, so I think I’m entitled to a little laziness.”

Convinced by his rational reasoning, Iona let go of Leroy, whom she had been trying to push away.

In response, Leroy climbed over her once more, as if he’d only been waiting for her surrender.

Against the backlight shining behind his head, Iona found herself squinting slightly.

Despite having always risen before dawn for her morning exercises, she’d recently been lingering in bed well into the morning.

‘Not that I’m skipping exercise entirely…’

The problem, if there was one, was that her “exercises” now took a slightly different form than before.

--- End Of The Chapter ----

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