After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 213

“Yes, I understand that much. But did you also not know your cousin was a twin?”

“She wasn’t, Shateian.”

Balak answered with a cold smile, firmly.

“Father always said Aunt was punished for giving birth to a ‘mixed-blood girl.’”

Lockwood was a very closed-off nation. How much more so the seven noble houses that ruled it. Balak’s father, the previous head, could not tolerate a child with Belkram blood and ordered his retainer to end its life.

But strangling a newborn was tantamount to abandoning humanity. Even the most loyal would waver at such a horrific task.

“I knew they couldn’t bring themselves to kill her. But I never knew when or where she was abandoned. There was a subtle hint that she was entrusted to her blood relatives, but that was all.”

Balak clenched his teeth and snarled fiercely. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could almost see the pale face of his aunt, who petted her belly and smiled, asking for him to take care for the soon-to-be-born baby.

“Well, that was until my father was killed by my brother.”

Hearing the inside story of the Ashrent family by accident, Shateian sighed deeply.

“Yes, now that you mention it, your family has produced powerful illusionists for generations.”

Even Ludmil and Balak himself were illusionists, so explaining was pointless.

“Now it all fits perfectly.”

Shateian laughed bitterly. Balak had hurried back to the capital after hearing the news about Marquis Wheddon’s lost daughter. His family’s hereditary power and his claim that his cousin wasn’t a twin.

That meant only one thing.

Sebelia Inverness never really died.

What a remarkable woman—to fake her death and deceive the entire empire. A chill passed through Shateian’s red eyes.

* * *

Apart from the petition to the court, Silas had started a sort of black propaganda campaign. His goal was to reclaim Sebelia and simultaneously damage Duke Inverness’s reputation and disgrace the family name.

If the elders of Inverness hear the Duke is causing trouble in the capital, they won’t stand idly by.

Silas expected the Inverness council to move against Dehart. True to his nature, he avoided taking the front lines himself.

So Silas ordered rumors to be spread in crowded places:

‘The Duke of Inverness is keeping a woman identical to his deceased wife imprisoned.’

‘That woman is said to be the lost daughter of Marquis Wheddon.’

He vaguely hoped to stir people up and achieve his goal. The problem was, he’d picked the wrong opponent.

Dehart Inverness was already a man who admitted he had gone mad. To him, scandals were just annoying flies. And more than that…

“In that way, I strangely feel a strong connection to that person’s daughter.”

Knowing such rumors would spread, Sebelia deliberately instructed Dehart to make a noisy raid on the Wheddon mansion.

She sat at a cafe in the square, staring at Nelia, who watched her from afar in disbelief.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen that expression.”

Sent by Silas to subtly leak rumors about Sebelia and Dehart, Nelia was shocked to see Sebelia looking perfectly healthy. Watching her bite her lip and quickly turn away, Sebelia smiled knowingly.

Good thing I attached a spying illusion to Nelia.

Earlier that morning, after overhearing Nelia talking with servants, Sebelia had left the mansion early and headed to the square.

Sebelia smiled softly and quietly asked Dehart beside her.

“How do you think it’s going?”

“They’re all bloodshot from staring at you so much.”

“It’s probably you, not me.”

The afternoon sunlight gently settled on her hand. White clouds drifted lazily across the clear sky, and small laughter floated from the surrounding tables.

There, Sebelia openly showed that she wasn’t imprisoned by Dehart but stayed willingly by his side. When meaningful glances came her way, she mustered courage to smile back. She put all her effort into establishing the image of ‘Bella Appenz,’ not Cornelia Wheddon.

Sometimes, when someone fled in panic, she was a little surprised. Of course, she never fully realized the reason was Dehart’s murderous glare.

Her actions soon sparked quite a promising reaction.

[To Miss Bella Appenz.]

The lavishly gilded invitation made the sender’s identity unmistakably clear. Even the small jewel on the envelope seemed to plead for submission, and Dehart commented with a wry smile,

“An invitation to an imperial art exhibition.”

The First Queen, frustrated by Marquis Wheddon’s sluggishness, had finally begun to act herself.