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Chapter 243
Iona couldn’t respond right away, too startled to speak.
She hadn’t expected that the very first thing he’d ask about would be her injuries.
Though she had become more accustomed to others’ affections while staying with Leroy, it was still unfamiliar to Iona to place herself at the center of someone’s concern.
Faced with a question she hadn’t prepared for, she froze up completely.
Perhaps the Duke interpreted her silence as a quiet affirmation.
Taking a careful step closer to Iona, he spoke in a low voice.
“So this all happened because she left a child in the hands of that... inhuman man. Haven’t you ever resented your mother for that? Weren’t all those years of suffering unbearably unfair?”
The Duke wore the same expression—lost and unsure—as Iona.
It seemed the barbed words he had hurled at her during their first encounter were now coming back to him, twisting his face with regret.
“I too... I should have known sooner. I should’ve gotten you out of your father’s grasp before it was too late…”
“That’s not true,” Iona cut him off in a hurry.
She had already suspected, from a previous conversation, that the Duke harbored a deep fondness for the daughter his sister left behind.
But now that those long-held emotions were directed so fully at her, Iona found herself wanting to run.
She stammered, trying to explain herself—something that didn’t suit her usual composed demeanor.
“I know I’ve claimed all this time to be the Princess’s daughter, and it feels strange to say this now, but… I can’t be certain that it’s the truth. My father was never someone reliable, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he couldn’t remember my birthday correctly. So all of this is just circumstantial... I don’t have any definitive proof...”
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her.
Before she could say another word, the Duke reached out with a firm arm and pulled her into an embrace.
His hand as it brushed down her back was hard, cold.
Though the man before her had journeyed through icy winds to get here, and carried no warmth, Iona felt a strange burn in her chest, as if her heart had been scorched.
She spoke, flustered.
“Your Grace, I mean, I…”
“I know what you’re trying to say,” he interrupted gently.
“…”
“But just for a moment. Just for this brief moment… let me believe my sister didn’t make her choice in vain.”
Though he said it like a plea, the Duke’s eyes revealed he had already made up his mind—he believed Iona was truly his niece.
As she felt the dampness of his tears soaking into her shoulder, Iona gave up on trying to push him away.
She glanced at Leroy, almost asking for help, but he only gave her a silent nod.
It seemed he had no intention of rescuing his wife from this situation.
With no other choice, Iona turned back and looked down at the man clinging to her, crying softly.
Her chest throbbed with an unfamiliar ache.
Iona had never once thought of the Duke as her family.
Even when he had told her about Hayden’s past and sparked her suspicions about her origins, even when those suspicions turned into near certainty, the Duke had always felt like a stranger.
In truth, to Iona, family wasn’t much different from strangers.
But maybe it was because it had been so long since someone last cried for her.
For the first time, she found herself wondering—perhaps the mother she never met had been this kind.
Perhaps, unlike her father, her mother had truly loved her.
It was such a foolish, childish hope, one she had discarded long ago—before she had even reached adolescence.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
Iona cleared her throat with a small, awkward cough.
Iona spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
“When I was very young… I used to imagine what kind of person my mother might have been. But after hearing the vile things my father said about her, I lost interest rather quickly.”
“…”
“But truly… I never resented her. I always believed there must’ve been a reason for what she did—for abandoning me. That maybe, just maybe, it was the better choice… or at least the only one she had.”
That was the closest thing to comfort Iona could offer the Duke.
The truth was, she had long let go of any longing for her mother—out of sheer necessity, having adapted early to her unfortunate reality. But she didn’t feel the need to share that detail with the Duke.
Princess Teresa, her mother, had spirited her daughter out of the palace to save her life.
Yes, it was true that Iona had ended up being raised by a despicable man as a result of that choice—but she was still alive because of it.
And now, she knew how to live meaningfully with the life her mother had given her.
That was enough.
Lifting her limp arms, Iona awkwardly returned the Duke’s embrace.
A choked sob slipped from the Duke’s mouth.
In a faint, trembling voice, he said,
“…Thank you for saying that.”
“…”
“Thank you for growing up well, despite the shameful adults who failed to care for you… You’ve grown so much—you’re already an adult now.”
With a few strong pats on her back, the Duke slowly let her go.
Even then, he looked at Iona with lingering eyes, as if fighting the urge to reach for her again. It seemed he had drawn back out of respect, thinking she might feel overwhelmed.
Sensing that even a moment’s hesitation might lead to another emotional hug, Iona quickly attempted to bring the situation back under control.
“I’ve simply lived my life by looking forward rather than back,” she said quietly. “As I mentioned, I still can’t be certain we’re truly related by blood.”
“‘Your Grace’ sounds far too distant,” the Duke murmured.
“What I mean is… we might still be strangers.”
“Would it be too awkward to call me Uncle right away? Still, everything feels strange at first—maybe it’s better to get used to it sooner.”
It seemed the Duke had little interest in the doubts Iona was trying to raise.
She got the impression that he wasn’t convinced by her claims so much as he simply wanted to believe in them.
While she appreciated being accepted so warmly, the fact that things were moving so smoothly left her uneasy.
If anyone was going to set clear boundaries, it would have to be her.
Raising both palms gently, as if calming a child, Iona spoke firmly.
“…If I reach a point where I can be certain of my birth, then I’ll gladly do that.”
“With everything we know so far, isn’t that enough to be certain?” the Duke said.
Leroy, who had been quietly watching their tearful reunion, chimed in naturally.
“It’s been over twenty years. It’s not like there’s much more physical evidence to uncover anyway.”
“There probably isn’t any left,” Iona replied. “Not unless there’s a living witness.”
“…That look on your face—you’re clearly plotting something dangerous again.”
Leroy narrowed his eyes as he looked at Iona.
He had reacted sharply to her mention of a “witness”—because he could guess exactly who she had in mind: the Crown Prince himself.
And if there was one thing he could say with absolute certainty, it was this—Richard would never willingly admit to sharing blood with Iona.
Iona knew that, too.
But instead of sitting around, waiting for someone who would likely never speak, she had chosen to uncover the truth herself.
Without giving her opponent a single second to prepare.
“In fact… I’ve already sent a letter to Her Majesty the Empress,” Iona said.
There’s a saying: if you want to bring down an angry bull, you grab it by the horns.
Iona’s existence may have been Teresa’s shame—but it was also the shame of those who had made her that way.
She understood clearly that, when the buried past was unearthed, she would not be the one with the most to lose.
If she exposed their true faces, there was a chance they would end up getting exactly what they deserved.
“…A letter? To Her Majesty?” the Duke echoed, his eyes widening—alongside Leroy’s.
Anticipating the barrage of questions to follow, Iona offered a brief explanation.
“Yes. I wrote that the long-lost child of the late Princess Teresa had been found—and that child is me.”
In short, she thought, there’s no rule that says they’re the only ones allowed to send threats.
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