Previously
The Duke and Duchess of Vandermeer arrive in the capital with their eldest son Oscar, plotting to stop Damian's marriage to Aracella Hugo through bribery or threats.
Because there was no real communication, they stood no chance of winning. Throughout the dinner with the ducal family, Aracella had interpreted everything entirely as she pleased or shut them down with scathing retorts to seize every argument.
She had primarily relied on two tactics:
That was how she responded whenever they hinted, directly or indirectly, at their objection to the union.
She threw that back whenever they lobbed criticisms at her, leaving them thoroughly crestfallen.
In the end, having failed completely to sway Aracella, the ducal family stormed out of the dining hall with grim expressions.
Aracella asked whether she had been of help, her eyes sparkling as she saw Damian off.
In truth, before entering the dining hall, she had eavesdropped through a crack in the door on the ducal family’s conversation. Hearing their proposal to marry Iris off to Oscar had sent a chill of fury down her spine.
Because of that, she had dealt with them far more vigorously than she initially intended.
Damian praised her in earnest.
Never before had he seen his family rendered so speechless. He had weathered their absurdities alone since childhood, but having even one person on his side changed everything completely.
Perhaps this was what security felt like. Having the extraordinary Aracella Hugo beside him had made the task far easier than expected.
Watching Aracella's overly eager expression as she pretended not to bask in his praise, Damian reflected quietly.
He still preferred solitude, but sharing a space with one other person might not be entirely terrible.
As the carriage pulled up, Damian courteously opened the door. Aracella climbed inside and pulled the door shut with a sharp thud; Damian watched the carriage depart, the pennant bearing the Hugo crest fluttering as it drove away.
When he stepped onto the marble staircase, he froze as a figure emerged at the top.
The Duchess looked down at her stepson with chilling eyes. Damian offered a cold smirk.
Damian ascended the stairs unhurriedly until he stood directly before her.
The Duchess’s face flushed red with rage.
The previous duchess had been her dearest friend, yet she had betrayed her, stolen her husband, borne a child, and claimed her place after she died.
The Duchess had no doubt Damian had aimed that barb straight at her. She glared at him, seething with humiliation.
Her beloved son had not inherited the traits of the man she loved, while Damian—whom she utterly despised—was the Duke’s spitting image.
To make matters worse, his eyes were identical to the late duchess’s, which only stoked her fury higher.
Damian gave a slight nod and walked past her up the stairs. The Duchess glared at his retreating back, her fists clenching tight.
‘I will never let you two marry. I will do whatever it takes.’
A tremor ran through her tightly clenched fists as she gritted her teeth with all her might.
The Vandermeer Duchy did everything in its power to sway the Hugo marquisate, exhausting every available means.
They offered money and treasures, proposed lucrative business ventures, and laid out enticing incentives, promising to grant any request.
Even so, the Hugo marquisate stood firm and refused to yield.
On the contrary, they reported the marriage to the Emperor at Aracella’s behest.
When the Emperor received word of the marriage from Marquis Hugo, he was thoroughly delighted and summoned the heads of both houses to audience.
The Emperor offered a broad, satisfied smile, stroking his white beard.
He had shared a close bond with the late Duke Vandermeer, which made it impossible for the current Duke to break this political engagement. The Emperor was merely fulfilling the will of his predecessor.
With that, Damian and Aracella’s marriage was officially confirmed, and preparations had to begin without delay.
On his way out after receiving the Emperor’s blessing, Duke Vandermeer grabbed Marquis Hugo by the arm.
The Duke pressed him in an urgent, flustered tone, but the Marquis gently brushed the Duke’s hand away and shook his head.
From sharing a single meal with Damian, the Marquis had realized that the only person whose values aligned with Aracella’s was Damian.
The Duke shouted angrily at the Marquis, who seemed utterly unfazed by his words.
Damian was never supposed to marry, so he had to achieve his aims through Marquis Hugo, yet he met only stubborn refusal from both his son and the Marquis.
The Marquis smiled proudly with a radiant beam—a rarity among the nobility, having married for love.
His smile bore such an uncanny resemblance to his daughter’s that it sent the Duke’s blood pressure soaring.
The Marquis rested a hand on the Duke’s shoulder with a serious face.
The Marquis chuckled heartily and patted the Duke’s shoulder with gentle ease.
The Duke swallowed his burning resentment as he watched the smiling Marquis depart.
In the end, having failed to persuade the Marquis, he was left with only one choice: find a way to make Aracella Hugo abandon this marriage herself.
The wedding date for Aracella Hugo and Damian Vandermeer was set with astonishing speed.
The primary reason was to preempt any meddling from the ducal family, while the second was their shared desire to marry quickly and divorce as soon as possible.
Iris, seated on the edge of the bed as she prepared to go out, asked with unmistakable worry in her voice.
There was no real reason to delay. The venue was secured thanks to the Emperor, and everything else could be settled with money. Fortunately, both sides had more than enough funds to rush the wedding along.
Though she understood her sister’s sorrow at seeing her leave so soon, Aracella did not waver. This was the only way to save Iris, which only hardened her resolve.
Straightening her slightly tilted bonnet, Iris took her sister’s hand and urged her to be careful.
It was counsel from Iris, who had heard from their parents about the ducal family’s opposition. Though her heart ached at the thought of her sister marrying so quickly, she wanted to help since this was what Aracella desired.
After a brief hug with Iris, Aracella made her way to a quiet café where she was scheduled to meet the Duchess to discuss the wedding arrangements.
She arrived on time and took a seat upon seeing the empty chairs.
She waited, and thirty minutes past the appointed time, the Duchess finally appeared.
The Duchess settled into the seat across from her without offering the slightest apology. Aracella recalled her sister's advice and let the slight pass.
The Duchess gestured to a maid, who brought forth a thick bundle of papers. Aracella took the stack in silence.
The bundle felt heavy in her hands, its weight attesting to the sheer number of sheets.
The papers the Duchess had handed Aracella detailed the dowry and wedding gifts.
They listed every conceivable jewel, outrageously expensive gowns, and even a brand-new townhouse in the capital…
Aracella was stunned by the staggering scale and nature of these sums, rendered momentarily speechless.