After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 228

The morning drizzle had turned into a heavy downpour by noon, drenching the capital. Umbrellas were useless against the wind-driven rain. But Balak didn’t care.

He had other priorities.

“…She really takes after Aunt.”

The Inverness estate loomed faintly through the mist. A few blocks away, Balak stared blankly at a curtained window in the alley.

Inside was his cousin. The child, with piercing blue eyes, seemed completely unharmed. Relief mingled with sorrow, and Balak swallowed his anguish in silence.

The child, abandoned at birth, resembled her mother perfectly—even though she had never met her alive.

[Is it a boy in Aunt’s womb?]

[Well, you’ll have to wait until they’re born. I can’t tell you yet.]

[I hope it’s a boy. Then I could play with him.]

At the time, he didn’t even know the child was a girl. Balak wiped the rain from his face and chuckled quietly before returning to his usual stern expression.

Even reminiscing like this felt like a luxury. Unlike him, his aunt had never even known whether her child would be a boy or a girl. She had lost consciousness before hearing the baby’s first cry, and had yet to awaken fully.

“Ha…”

The most precious treasure in the world. The child I would give anything for. Balak bit his lip, recalling whispers from his sleep during his childhood.

He controlled his swelling emotions, scanning the heavily guarded gates and the knights stationed around the estate. Breaching such an ironclad perimeter alone seemed impossible.

Maybe I should wait for tomorrow.

After confirming Sebelia was alive, Balak had tried multiple ways to meet her, with the help of Shateian, only to be thwarted by Duke Inverness’s ironclad opposition.

The only path left was the art exhibition scheduled for the next day. But that exhibition was practically a trap set by the First Queen.

Balak wanted to see her before that if possible. He wanted to rescue her from this chaos and take her back to Lockwood.

The plan had been foiled…yet Balak did not give up.

I’ll make sure you get home.

He turned slowly, considering how he would reveal his identity to her.

Surely it would be more moving if she realized the person who saved her life was actually her cousin, rather than some stranger suddenly claiming that title.

To ensure perfect timing, he knew he couldn’t take his eyes off Sebelia.

If possible, I’ll stay by her side the entire time.

No matter how hard Duke Inverness glared, he wouldn’t budge. Balak entered the estate Shateian had secretly arranged for him, making a silent vow. Yet the thought irritated him slightly.

“What’s that fool doing clinging to her side?”

He didn’t know what the mad Duke was thinking, but after she feigned her death to escape, he had no right to be near his cousin.

As Balak muttered a low curse, the rain ceased. Peeking through a break in the clouds, the sun appeared, and he made his decision.

No matter what, he would get Sebelia out of this filthy, corrupt Belkram, and take her to Lockwood, where her ‘real family’ waited.

* * *

On the day of the exhibition, the skies cleared and the crowd was relieved. A faint mist lingered in the streets, but there was no sign of more rain.

The first to enter the exhibition hall was, naturally, the First Queen herself. She glanced at the crowded exhibition with pride, exchanged a few words with her entourage of Eastern nobles, and left without lingering.

“Today is for the rising artists. I’ll take my leave.”

This surprised Sebelia greatly. Dehart seemed equally stiff, his small whispered comments tight with tension.

“I thought she’d call you aside.”

“Indeed. She doesn’t move as easily as expected.”

The most obvious scenario would have been to summon Sebelia privately, giving the First Queen an opportunity to administer a d**g without interference.

But instead, she chose to leave. Sebelia fiddled with the antidote pills sewn into her sleeve, sighing in disappointment.

She won’t resort to cheap tricks.

This made it impossible to catch Nathan and the First Queen in one move. Typical of the First Queen—or simply her careful attempt to avoid leaving traces.