Please Forget Me - Chapter 339

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

‘How drunk does he have to be to forget the very reason he’s not supposed to sleep with me?’

As I recoiled, he flung me onto the bed. The moment my head hit the mattress and I tried to lift it, a thick hand seized my hair in a brutal grip.

‘W-why… why is he suddenly this angry?’

Shaking, I forced myself to look at him. He was glaring at me, teeth clenched.

“You slept with that bastard because he was your husband, so why do you refuse me? Is it because I’m a cripple and you don’t want me?”

“Ha….”

To think he believed I’d been horrified by his leg, not what was happening in front of me. The misunderstanding was so absurd I let out a hollow laugh, forgetting for a moment that he still had my hair in his fist.

Now that I thought about it, it wasn’t the drink clouding his mind, it was jealousy toward Killian, blinding him enough to forget why he must never sleep with me.

“You’re laughing? Am I funny to you?”

“—!”

I thought he was letting go, but instead he rolled me over. The instant I tried to escape, he grabbed me by the collar.

Rip.

The ornate dress tore in one savage motion from my neckline to my waist. As the mad beast reached to tear apart the corset beneath, I blurted out desperately,

“If my belly starts to swell… whose child do you think it’ll be?”

The hands prying at my corset froze.

“Whose child it is doesn’t matter. It would be the next Marquis, wouldn’t it?”

Whether it was his child or that man’s, no one would ever know for sure. Even if the baby looked like me, suspicion would linger; if it resembled him, suspicion would linger just the same. After all, he looks unpleasantly like that man.

Did he really want to live his whole life haunted by the doubt that his heir might actually be the son of the man he’d envied all his life? To lose the family line—his one point of pride—to a lifelong rival?

That was the very reason he could never mix his body with mine.

“Damn thieving bastard.”

Perhaps his senses finally returned. The Marquis shoved me away and fled the room as if he couldn’t bear to stay another second.

The moment he was gone, I ran on trembling legs and locked the door.

“Haa….”

Locking it wasn’t enough. Still shaking, I leaned my full weight against the door. My vision blurred, and tears spilled over.

“Why… why did you do that….”

I poured my resentment toward my past self into my tears. I hated the woman I used to be, the one who’d married a brute no better than the filthiest animal I knew.

“Why did you marry him… ugh….”

Seeing the dress, torn to rags down the front, made bile rise in my throat.

‘How was I supposed to endure this?’

I can’t.

If that man is the real one, I’ll run away.

If he’s the fake, then running away was inevitable anyway.

Either way, I’m getting out of here.

* * *

I was certain I’d shredded what little pride the Marquis had left that night.

‘Then maybe he’ll be the one to abandon me first?’

But four days passed without a single word from him. I’d secretly hoped he would end this marriage for me, and I was disappointed.

Grandmother was disappointed too. She tried to invite him again, but he refused every time, claiming to be busy. The old woman still had no idea why that night had failed.

‘He won’t see me again until he’s sure I’m not carrying that man’s child.’

That would take, roughly, three or four months. Which meant I’d gained three or four months to prepare my escape.

But patience has never been my strength. I decided to run—today.

“I need to go see the Marquis. Right now.”

“Dana, what a wonderful idea!”

I hadn’t been invited. I hadn’t even given notice. I was openly planning to barge into another man’s home unannounced, and yet the old woman didn’t stop me, she beamed and tried to come along.

“I have to go alone. I’m his wife, but you’re not. If you show up without an invitation, people will gossip about your lack of decorum.”

“Oh, right….”

The excuse sounded convincing enough. The old woman didn’t doubt me.

“When you see him, apologize properly and behave this time, understand? And don’t forget to come back with an heir.”

The woman who wouldn’t let me step outside alone now handed me a car, a driver, and an attendant without being asked. I climbed into the back seat without hesitation. She waved me off with a delighted smile.

“Have a good trip.”

Hah. I’m never coming back.

I would go to the Marquis’s residence in Dunley first and then I’d run.

There were ways to escape along the road, but before that, there was something I had to confirm at the Marquis’s house.

‘The Marquis’ handwriting….’

Just as the Marquis didn’t want to spend his life tormented by doubts over whose child I might bear, I didn’t want to live tormented by doubts over who my first love truly was.

For four days after that night, I’d tried to find a sample of his handwriting. I asked whether he’d sent any letters to our house, but apparently, for the past several years, they’d only communicated by telephone.