Chapter 60
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For the first time in a long while, I dreamed of my mother and father.
Both the parents from my past life and my parents from this life appeared. To me, both sets of parents were now figures that existed only in dreams.
The memory of the day the Sinclair couple—my mother and father in this life—passed away was vivid. It was because that was the day I had thrown the worst tantrum of my life.
“You can just buy a title! I want to be a noble! A real noble!”
“Cherry, even if we buy a title, you won’t become a real noble.”
My father spoke to me in a soothing tone. I must have been about sixteen at the time. I was at an age where I lacked any semblance of maturity.
“Why aren’t you and Mom nobles? I wish I’d been born to noble parents!”
It was a day when I heartlessly drove a spike into my parents’ chests with such thoughtless words. It just so happened to be the day I had attended a social party and been utterly snubbed by the young ladies there, who mocked me for attending when I wasn’t even a noble.
After throwing a fit for a long time, I lay exhausted on my bed. My mother came to my room and sat by my bedside, whispering softly.
“My daughter, I’m sorry. But please know that my desire to raise you as the best is no less than that of any noble. To me, you are the most noble and beautiful daughter in the world.”
To be honest, even though my eyes welled up at her words back then, they didn’t quite reach my heart. To my younger self, the humilitation I had suffered from the noble girls my age felt far too heavy.
That was the day my mother and father were going to meet a new friend. They hadn’t told me who that friend was. I wasn’t particularly curious, either. I wasn’t even truly angry at my parents, but in my fit of pique, I didn’t even look at their faces as they left.
That was the day. The day my parents died in a car accident.
My last memory of my parents was my immature, thorn-filled words—that I wished I had been born to noble parents instead of them.
I remember clutching their tombstones and sobbing uncontrollably when they were erected at the cemetery after the funeral, because the reality still hadn’t sunk in.
“I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Don’t go. Don’t abandon me. I was wrong. I don’t want to be a noble. So please, come back. I’m still young. I need you, Mom and Dad.”
No miracle occurred to bring my parents back, however.
What my father left behind for me was a title. He had truly bought a noble title in just a single day. It was as if he had been preparing it for a moment like this all along.
The person who delivered that news to me was, of course, the lawyer, Harrison. But he added that since the Sinclair family was already so famous, a noble title would be meaningless.
“What shall we do with the title, My Lady?”
I remember Harrison asking me that.
Ironically, back then, I replied that I no longer had any need for such a thing.
One can hold the nobles in the palm of their hand without being one. If you are a Sinclair, you can do that. My father’s words—that a Sinclair has no need for a title—must have meant exactly that.
And so, I became the star of high society—the one whom all the noble young ladies envied, yet secretly admired.
