Chapter 41
How to Abandon a Beautiful Misfortune

“What a sordid tale.”

The Dowager Duchess’s verdict on Mrs. Etman’s scandal, delivered over dinner, was cold and concise.

“That a woman of such a respected medical family would stoop to orchestrating theft and be hauled away… disgraceful.”

Her brows drew together as she sipped her wine, rinsing her lips of the vile story.

“It’s time we sever ties with Mrs. Etman.”

Elise von Herhardt added her agreement, her expression no different from the Duchess’s.

The day before, Linda Etman had been taken to the police station and held there overnight, only returning home past noon. Bill and Layla had personally gone to the station, declaring their wish to show leniency once they had recovered the stolen tuition money.

“It is unfortunate that Dr. Etman has been so humiliated by all this. He’s a good man. Should we change physicians?”

“There’s no need. The fault isn’t his. These sorts of scandals flare for a season and then fade.”

The Dowager Duchess’s tone was firm, showing her unshaken trust in the doctor.

“One only hopes Kyle won’t be too deeply scarred by it.”

When she spoke of Kyle Etman, there was even a trace of pity in her voice.

“In hindsight, it was a mistake to allow him to remain in Arvis.”

Near the end of the meal, Elise von Herhardt suddenly remarked:

“If not for Layla, none of this would have happened.”

She glanced at Claudine, as if to seek her support.

“Indeed,” Claudine said eagerly.

“Unintentionally perhaps, but Layla has ruined the Etmans.”

Emphasizing her words, Claudine flicked her gaze across the table. Matthias, quiet as always, seemed today even more so. Yet his face showed nothing unusual—still calm, still composed.

Dinner soon ended. And just as quickly, the scandal that had rocked Arvis slipped from conversation.

Matthias did not retreat to his study, but instead went directly to his room.

He had already ordered Hessen to send the man who had shadowed Linda Etman that day to the police station. As a supposed witness to the theft—timed to coincide with the postman’s arrival. Since that postman’s route included Arvis, the rumor spread swiftly. Just as planned. That the postman happened to speak first to Madam Mona, notorious gossip of the kitchen, had been especially fortuitous.

Predictable. Trite. Yet amusing enough.

Did Linda Etman weep?

As he turned on the lamp by the window, Matthias wondered idly.

She probably did. Like Layla.

The thought pleased him. The game grew more entertaining.

Now the marriage between Layla Llewellyn and Kyle Etman was beyond repair. Whatever their feelings, marriage was no longer possible. All the fortune that might have fallen into Layla’s lap had vanished.

On impulse, Matthias crossed to the cabinet and withdrew a bottle. He rarely drank—every bottle there was untouched. He poured amber liquid into a crystal glass.

Layla’s wings had been clipped.

Turning with the glass in hand, Matthias thought this with calm certainty.

She would remain within Arvis’s walls.

The relief of that knowledge outweighed his disgust at himself.

He gazed for a long while at the canary sleeping in its cozy cage. Then he looked back to the garden beyond the window, and finally down at the golden drink.

He remembered that late spring night when he had first learned Layla and the doctor’s son might marry. That night, for the first time in his life, he had wanted to kill someone. Compared to that horror, this ending did not seem so bad.

Better this than a death.

He set the untouched glass quietly back on the table.

He needed no liquor. He already knew how to rid himself of this wretchedness—how to abandon his beautiful misfortune.

To claim it as his own.

Thus the tuition theft scandal that had stirred all of Arvis came to its close, even at the height of summer. Bill Remmer had recovered the money. Through his plea for leniency, Mrs. Etman was spared punishment. Yet its shadow lingered, the aftermath impossible to erase.

“Kyle.”

Dr. Etman slowly opened his son’s door after repeated knocks went unanswered. Kyle sat stiffly at his desk, staring only out the window.

“Kyle.”

He called again, resting a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. Kyle flinched at the touch and turned. His face was gaunt, hollowed by grief.

Dr. Etman let his hand fall away and leaned against the desk.

“Your mother is recovering now.”

“…Yes.”

Kyle’s reply was flat.

The shock of the police station had felled Mrs. Etman. She had refused food, spent days burning with fever, and though it never grew truly dangerous, it had been close enough to frighten.

“I’ve found a house for you in Latz.”

Kyle’s eyes shifted vaguely at his father’s calm words.

“A house?”

“Yes. A place of your own. Furnished. Suitable for one person—”

“You mean I’m to go to university… alone?”

Kyle gave a bitter laugh.

“Without Layla? After wounding her so, after all this—you expect me to go on as if nothing’s happened?”

“I understand your heart. But Kyle, persisting now will only torment Layla further.”

“Father!”

“Your bond with her ends here. Accept it. That’s the only way forward—for both of you. You must live your own life.”

Even facing the emptiness in his son’s eyes, the doctor held firm. He had to. His duty now was to protect Kyle. If he left Karlsbar, if he distanced himself from Layla, if he was swallowed in the new world of university—perhaps then the wound would fade. That was the only hope Dr. Etman clung to.

“Your mother was wrong. But we cannot deny our share of blame. We cornered her. She could not accept Layla, and we did not see the depth of her despair. Perhaps it was we who drove her to it.”

“You mean because Layla is an orphan? Because she lacks pedigree? Because she could never satisfy Mother’s vanity? Those are the reasons?”

“Enough, Kyle. No matter what, I won’t allow you to speak of your mother that way.”

“I don’t even know anymore. Is she the same mother I loved? And why should I even go to university now?”

“You would throw away your life over a failed first love?”

“You think Layla… was only that to me?”

“If she was more, then all the more reason to be clearheaded. The more you act like a fool, the more she suffers.”

“I can’t leave her behind.”

“You and Layla are beyond repair.”

“No!”

Kyle’s cry was raw.

“There must be a way. If I beg, if I repent, if I can turn her heart—”

“Wake up, Kyle Etman! You already know it’s impossible.”

Dr. Etman’s voice rose as he shook his son’s shoulders.

Kyle wrenched free, shaking his head in denial again and again. Then he fled the room. His father, knowing all too well where he would run, could not bring himself to stop him.

Better to face the truth head-on, however painful.

Though the day was sweltering, Layla’s attire was unyieldingly neat.

A stiffly pressed blouse with its collar buttoned to the throat, a spotless skirt, stockings beneath. Even in the blazing sun, she remained immaculate. Her flushed cheeks and short breath betrayed the heat, but her posture did not falter, nor her brisk, steady steps.

Everywhere she went these days, Layla met with sympathy. People comforted her, cursed Mrs. Etman, clicked their tongues or wiped their eyes.

So it was again today. At Gillis Girls’ Academy, where Layla went to inquire about teaching work, the teacher first greeted her with sighs of pity.

‘Yes, Layla. You must face reality. It’s sad, but what else can be done?’

The woman squeezed Layla’s hand, repeating the words again and again. On the streets, too, familiar faces offered the same.

Her gratitude carried with it a sting of shame. So she bowed, smiled, played the part. She ignored the uncertain, strained smiles she saw in return. It was all she could do just to keep her own composure intact.

‘We’d like to help, but this is the best we can do.’

So the Gillis teacher sighed, after long words of comfort.

All the teaching posts in Karlsbar had already been filled. The best Layla could secure was a position in a small town, an hour away by train.

After long thought, she accepted. She would need to board near the school, but could return to Arvis on weekends. A year of that, and perhaps she might find her way back to Karlsbar.

At the grand gates of the estate, Layla paused to remove her hat and catch her breath.

Facing Uncle Bill was hardest of all. When she smiled, his eyes grew sad. But she could not cry before him either.

At least today, she would have good news to share.

With cautious hope, she walked on.

It hurt, knowing she would have to leave for a distant town, but it was not forever. She would still return.

So she quickened her pace, forcing a brighter smile, eager to tell Uncle Bill at once. She turned toward the garden instead of the cottage.

She met Kyle beneath the archway leading into the rose garden.

“…Kyle?”

Her eyes widened. He looked like a man pursued, frantic, as he seized her wrist.

“Come with me, Layla.”

“Where? Please, let go. We can talk—”

“Let’s run away. Together.”

His grip only tightened.