After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 273

Inside the doorway, Rosalyn stood with her jet-black hair neatly braided down her back. Silver and diamonds were woven into her braid, so that with every subtle movement, light scattered all around her like a halo.

“Don’t worry,”

A low voice brushed Sebelia’s ear. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. She let herself be comforted by the man’s warmth and gentle words.

“You’re the one who should be worried.”

If Rosalyn turns out to be an imposter, Claude will be crushed. Even Dehart might be disappointed, whether he admits it or not.

But when Sebelia glanced up at him, he looked completely unbothered. Was it just an act, or was he trying to hide his anxiety so she wouldn’t worry? As if sensing her thoughts, he spoke again in a light and steady voice.

“It may be too late to say this now, but I prepared myself for the worst the moment she demanded the inheritance. I never expected this would resolve peacefully.”

“….”

“And if she is real, I’ll accept whatever anger she throws at me—as the foolish brother who never looked for her or even missed her. Even if it takes decades to make amends.”

And then, almost under his breath: But I still won’t give up the title of Duke.

There was such quiet determination in his voice that Sebelia nearly laughed, forgetting the tension for a moment.

Just then, she felt a sharp gaze on her. Composing herself, Sebelia straightened and looked ahead.

Across the crowded hall, Rosalyn shone like a star—her eyes fixed right on Sebelia.

* * *

That evening, the Empire’s celebrated prima donna delivered yet another flawless, mesmerizing performance.

“She’s standing up from her seat.”

Claude whispered as the lights came on at the end of Act I, and Rosalyn in the box seat opposite theirs came clearly into view. Rosalyn leaned over to say something to the young lady beside her, flashed a radiant smile, and disappeared from sight.

This was the moment they’d been waiting for. The women’s lounge on the west side was under construction, so she would almost certainly head to the east wing instead.

Sebelia gripped the small box in her hand tightly. There was no time to hesitate.

“You’ll do great, Bella.”

“I’ve stationed plainclothes guards among the audience. If anything seems dangerous, just call for them.”

Claude and Dehart reassured her. Sebelia let out a shaky little laugh at their concern.

“I’ll be back—with good news, I hope.”

Whether Rosalyn was real or fake, whatever the outcome, it would be both good and painful news. But she forced herself to sound optimistic as she left.

Claude managed a faint smile as she walked away.

* * *

Sebelia arrived early and took up her post in front of the lounge, waiting for Rosalyn to appear. But as the intermission wore on, there was still no sign of her.

As the crowd around her thinned, Sebelia felt a growing sense that something was wrong.

If she’d gone elsewhere or returned to her seat, the guards would have notified me by now.

But no one came. Which meant Rosalyn had somehow vanished into a place not even the guards could see.

She didn’t bother wondering how—her instincts told her immediately that something had happened to Rosalyn. Maybe she’d fallen into a trap. Just like Sebelia herself once had.

It was a gut feeling..

“Etira.”

The blue bird slipped from beneath her sleeve. Making the creature invisible, Sebelia sent it out into the air. Luckily, the corridor was empty—no one saw her.

[Find Rosalyn Inverness and let me know where she is.]

With a soft chirp, Etira flapped away toward the west side of the building. Sebelia bit her lip and dashed down the stairs.

Dehart stationed the guards around where the nobles gather. That rules out the lounge, courtyard, and cafeteria. If she didn’t pass through anywhere crowded, that leaves…

Suddenly, her chest gave a violent thud. A sensation she’d never felt before made her gasp and cling to the railing.

Etira…

Through the soul-bond with her familiar, a flood of anxiety, fear, and rage washed over her. She felt Etira struggling to send her the image of a white lightning flash—Rosalyn had been found.

Sebelia steadied her breath, then opened her eyes.

Etira. Where are you? Show me.

A chilling impression, sharp as a knife, formed in her mind—a vision, clear as a painting.

A few hours ago, a pale-colored door had been marked as ‘temporarily closed for maintenance’.

That door was the women’s lounge on the first floor.