Chapter 19

“I miss you, Mother. Father said that if I study hard, he will forgive you. I will do my best to save you. If we can meet again, I will not be afraid of anything.”

As Agnes read the letter, her face twisted with longing and sorrow, yet there was warmth in her expression, a bittersweet joy.

The letter from Noah spoke of how much he missed her and how hard he was trying. He wrote that his efforts would soon bear fruit so that they could live together again under one roof.

“Let us live together in a new home where you will never have to be afraid of anything, and where you can smile every day.”

That was the final line of the letter.

Still too young, Noah had not understood the hidden meaning in those words. He believed that if he succeeded in persuading his father, Agnes would be able to come home.

Perhaps he had interpreted Agnes’s mention of “effort” as her asking him to plead with Rickman.

It made sense. The world Noah had seen inside the Overhen mansion had always been that way.

“Noah… I am sorry. I am so, so sorry…”

Her chest ached at the thought of her son, who feared his father deeply, daring to approach him on her behalf. Yet she was also proud of his courage and deeply ashamed that her choices had made him face such a thing.

Holding the letter to her chest, Agnes let out a shaky breath. Tears welled up again, but she bit down hard on her lip to keep them from falling.

She would not cry.

She would no longer live as a helpless woman.

She would become someone strong enough to protect the ones she loved.

The golden hue of her eyes shimmered with renewed determination.

* * *

Among the noble class, cases of divorced women reclaiming custody of their children were rare, but not unheard of.

If the woman held a title, she often had the upper hand in custody disputes, especially if she possessed her own lands or wealth.

But none of that applied to Agnes.

Without title or fortune, her only remaining advantage would be “the absolute support of her birth family.”

That meant she would need to prove that the child could live a stable life by inheriting her family’s title.

That, too, was impossible. The Everchen title would belong to her half-brother, Haver.

Which left only one path.

She had to prove that Rickman Overhen was an unfit parent, incapable of raising a child properly.

Mere physical abuse would not be enough. Among nobles, an ungrown child was considered the father’s property.

So what made someone an “unfit parent”?

A parent whose honor had been tainted.

In this twisted society, a father could beat his child and still be considered respectable, but a father who lost his honor was deemed unworthy of raising one.

Agnes could never accept that logic, yet those were the rules of this world.

‘Rickman is a meticulous perfectionist, but he is not a moral man.’

To outsiders, Rickman acted the part of a courteous gentleman. Yet toward those he believed were under his control, he revealed his true nature, since he saw no reason to hide it.

His wife had been one of those people.

At times, Agnes had sensed something off about him, especially when he was alone in his office.

He would be there by himself, reviewing reports and investment documents, with no one entering or leaving, yet his expression would twist with agitation and fury.

Whenever that happened, Agnes would bring him tea to soothe him. But on some of those occasions, she had caught the faint, unpleasant scent of dampness and dust that clung to basements.

Rickman despised anyone entering his office unannounced. Once, when a maid accidentally entered without permission, he beat her severely and drove her out. After that, no one ever heard from her again.

The servants avoided the topic, whispering only that their master was terribly sensitive and should never be disturbed.

But to Agnes, his anger had felt more than just sensitivity. There had been something like fear or alarm, the kind shown by a man who had nearly been discovered.

She was certain that a secret passage connected Rickman’s office to the mansion’s basement.

Secret tunnels were not uncommon in noble estates, but what mattered was what lay hidden below.

If it was something he wished to keep even from the wife he claimed to control completely…

Whatever it was, it could destroy Rickman’s honor and give her a chance to win Noah back.

And Agnes already had an idea of what might be hidden there.

* * *

Agnes went out that day with her maid, Lizzie. Behind them followed Pavel, a knight of House Vasteron.

She had planned to go with only Lizzie, but asking Sharon’s permission to borrow a kitchen maid had drawn attention.

Sharon had said there was no problem in bringing a favored maid, but going out with only two women was too dangerous. She had immediately consulted Gavelin, who then reported to Dylan, resulting in a knight being assigned to escort them.

“Sir Pavel, I am sorry for troubling you over something so trivial as a trip to town,” said Agnes with an apologetic smile.

Knights were sworn to protect their lords and the ladies of their house. Strictly speaking, Agnes was not yet someone Pavel was duty-bound to guard, at least not for now.

Still, he smiled brightly, his tone cheerful and sincere.

“Please, my lady, think nothing of it. Protecting the one my lord holds dear is as important as protecting him. In fact, I take pride in being the one chosen for this duty. It shows that His Grace trusts me.”

Pavel was a handsome young man with an easygoing nature, skilled at easing people’s worries. It was no wonder anyone could take a liking to him. Even Lizzie, walking beside them, blushed and stole shy glances his way.

Whether Pavel noticed or not, he continued speaking to Agnes with a warm expression.

“My lady, where we are headed is not the safest part of the city. May I suggest a better place to visit?”

“That is tempting, but it is all right. I have business in this area. That is why I am grateful you came with me, Sir Pavel.”

“Haha, then I must make sure to guard you well. Stay close to me, my lady. You too, Miss Lizzie.”

His tone was playful, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning their surroundings as they walked.

When Agnes began turning down darker alleys, his smile faded slightly.

“Forgive my asking, my lady, but where exactly are we headed?”

“An information agency. There is someone I need to find. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. I only wish to make sure my ability to protect you will not be put to shame.”

“How humble of you.”

Agnes knew little about knights or swordsmanship, but everyone in the capital knew that the Duke of Vasteron’s knights were few yet elite, each one handpicked for their skill.

Remembering that eased her nerves, even as the sunlight dimmed above the narrow street.

The agency she sought lay deep within the alley, perhaps for reasons of secrecy. Still, it was not a place that required special connections to enter.

She had first heard of it from her stepmother, who delighted in gossip and shady dealings. That alone suggested it was not the most reputable establishment.

But for someone who had lived her entire life behind mansion walls, this was her best option.

She could not let anyone close to her know what she was doing.

Not even Dylan.

When she stepped inside, the woman behind the desk immediately brightened at the sight of her. The owner’s sharp features and impatient eyes made her nature obvious, yet her tone was smooth and welcoming.

Wealthy ladies with complicated stories often brought profitable business.

“Welcome, my lady. I am Rebecca, the owner of this fine establishment. Please, have a seat right here.”

Startled by such a warm reception, Agnes hesitated for a moment before taking the seat Rebecca indicated.