Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 180

“You said Duke Krygen and Macy are nothing more than a one-night affair? How could you lie to me like that…?”

“They are nothing more than a casual acquaintance. The Duke and Macy have no connection—”

“If that were true, would Duke Krygen take revenge on me like this?”

At the sound of a half-sobbing scream, Isabella stiffened.

“Revenge? Did the Duke do this?”

“Yes! It was definitely the Duke! At the gathering, I called over some low-class noble and told them to use that painter girl however they wanted, and then he had some street thug do this to me! It was him, no one else!”

She couldn’t believe it, even as her ears heard the words.

Duke Krygen had done such a vicious thing. For a mere painter girl, he had carried out such a vile act.

“If you understand, don’t ever set foot in the Marquis’s estate again. I am no longer associated with Lady Werfel!”

The door slammed shut again. At that moment, Isabella recalled her conversation with Rubens in the carriage.

“Then don’t let Lady get yourself involved with those imbeciles, even as a joke. If you don’t want to end up more pathetic than those lowly creatures.”

“…”

“It’s a warning. Don’t dare speak ill of Macy in front of me again.”

Duke Krygen was serious about that painter. More so than she had anticipated. Even if it tarnished his reputation and honor, he wasn’t going to let anyone harm her.

The warning had been real.

‘Ha. What do I do now?’

He would surely know that Isabella was close to Marchioness Lingston. He would likely question her about it.

No. Given that he hadn’t said anything yet, it was possible he thought it was simply the Marchioness’s own doing. If he had thought Isabella was involved, he would have come right away.

Or not? Was he turning a blind eye to it, knowing what had happened?

Why? Why was he turning a blind eye? If he was truly turning a blind eye because she was going to become the Duchess, it didn’t align with what Rubens had said.

He had clearly said that if Isabella got involved, he would punish her without hesitation.

Isabella’s complexion fluctuated between pale and flushed. She was so confused as though she might lose her sanity.

“Miss, it might be better to return for now.”

“Ah…”

Her legs gave way, and she was supported by the butler as she made her way back to the carriage.

The silence felt far more frightening than the punishment Marchioness Lingston had received.

Yes, it was ominous. Thick black clouds were silently gathering.

* * *

Grumble.

The sound of her stomach growling interrupted her concentration as she painted. Her brush froze mid-air.

Macy rubbed her stomach with her other hand and looked around. A plate with scrambled eggs, milk, and bread was left on a small table beside her.

“It’s all cold now.”

The food had been left for her by Dia, as Macy had skipped dinner to dive into her work. Looking at the desk clock, she realized it was already past midnight.

The reason she had pushed herself to paint so relentlessly was because of something Eren had said recently.

“So don’t even think about anything stupid. After driving me to madness like this, if you try to escape…”

“That’s when you’ll truly see just how ruthless I can be.”

Macy shivered at those words.

That day, Eren had stayed with her as usual—made love, slept together and had breakfast. He visited the cabin three or four times a week, and aside from the rough s-x that day, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I probably just misunderstood…’

He was always rough in bed anyway. Even if she became the court artist, Macy would never leave his side. It was likely just a misunderstanding.

It wasn’t that he had found out about Prince Benedict’s offer, but rather that he had sensed Macy was hiding something, prompting him to speak in such a way.

Still, that feeling—being tied to him by name and not being able to escape—made his words feel a little unsettling…

‘Did he just say that out of anger?’

Macy figured she should at least eat something, so she picked up a fork. She took a bite of the eggs and bread, chewing them as she murmured to herself. Even though the food was cold, it wasn’t as bad as she had expected.

What really mattered was that since that day, Macy had been filled with fear. Just the thought of hiding something from Eren had placed a heavy strain on her heart.

But now, the idea of giving up the position of court artist seemed impossible. It was a golden opportunity—one that might be the last chance in Macy’s career as a painter.