Chapter 22

“No matter what you say, I am Noah’s mother.”

Agnes spoke each word slowly and clearly.

Perhaps to some people, she might have seemed foolish or greedy. Lizzie and Pavel standing beside her could not have known, but Agnes did.

She and Noah were not related by blood at all.

But did a parent-child bond only exist through blood? Did sharing the same blood automatically make people family?

If that were true, then Agnes and Noah were not mother and son, and Viscount Everchen and Agnes were not father and daughter.

Agnes’s idea of family had never been that way. That was why her gaze did not waver.

Rickman watched her quietly, as if studying something rare and fascinating.

“Do not put up a fight. There is a much easier way.”

He did not step closer, likely because of Pavel, yet his voice wrapped around her like a thick, suffocating fog.

“Come back to me.”

Agnes’s breath trembled. She closed her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to stay composed. It felt as if she might collapse otherwise.

When she opened her eyes again, her golden irises burned with fury.

Her trembling hands clenched tightly together.

“You were the one who threw me out.”

To drive her away in such humiliation, only to demand her return now. With nothing more than a few words.

Even now, her knees seemed to ache with the memory of being dragged across the floor that day, scraped and bruised like an animal.

Yet Rickman spoke without the slightest trace of guilt, his tone soft and coaxing.

“I only meant to correct your behavior.”

“I did my best as your wife and as Noah’s mother.”

“Then all the more reason to return and keep doing your best. Why are you acting like this? Is your pride more important than your child? Do you have any idea how much he misses you?”

At the mention of Noah, Agnes’s jaw trembled.

Rickman noticed it and continued with a triumphant tone.

“He keeps asking when you will come back. He even asked what he should do to make you return. That timid boy came to me himself. He still cannot speak well, but after that, he has been studying hard and even started sword training. Admirable, is he not?”

“Sword training? He is only five years old…”

“That is exactly why I thought there was no one better than you to raise him.”

Rickman gestured to the secretary standing behind him. Without a word, the man took out a large envelope from his briefcase and handed it over. Rickman accepted it with smooth ease and held it out toward Agnes.

“A marriage registration form.”

“Are you insane?”

“I am not insane. I simply admit that I was too harsh before. Come back to me. Be Noah’s mother again.”

He took a few steps forward, pretending to be a kind father instead of a cruel husband, his shoulders lifting in feigned ease.

“I have no intention of forcing sword training on Noah yet. But if he insists, I will not stop him either. Boys love swords. A father should support his son’s ambitions, do you not agree?”

“Rickman.”

“Agnes, that is something you should stop him from doing. And I agree he needs to learn how to be social again. He needs a companion to help him open up. We can discuss the details once you sign this and return to the mansion. Go on, take it.”

When Agnes did not reach for the paper, Rickman added in a quiet, suggestive voice,

“Think carefully about what is truly best for Noah.”

Agnes looked from Rickman’s smug face to the document in his hand.

After a long silence, she finally reached out and took it.

“…I understand what you mean.”

Her pale lips barely moved as she spoke, but Rickman smiled with satisfaction.

It was the kind of smile that might have flustered a naïve lady, yet no one here gave it a glance.

When Rickman left, having forced the document on her, Lizzie moved close to Agnes’s side, her voice trembling.

“My lady, no, you are not actually thinking of going back to him, are you?”

“Miss Lizzie, we should not interfere with the lady’s decision.”

“This is not the time for manners! You saw what that man did to her!”

Lizzie shouted furiously, no longer the shy woman who once blushed around Pavel.

Agnes’s calm voice cut through her anger.

“Lizzie, that is enough. This is not the place to talk. Let us go home first.”

“My lady…”

Tears welled in Lizzie’s eyes. Agnes patted her back gently and began walking ahead. Her straight posture looked smaller than ever.

* * *

Even after receiving the marriage document from Rickman, Agnes knew there was only one place for her to go. The carriage carrying her headed straight back to the Vasteron Townhouse.

Lizzie kept glancing nervously at the envelope in Agnes’s hands, but Agnes’s expression remained calm.

When the carriage stopped, Pavel stepped out first, then Lizzie.

“My lady?”

Agnes blinked, startled, as if she had not realized they had arrived.

“Sorry.”

With a short apology, she reached out her hand toward the open carriage door.

A firm, cool hand took hers and helped her down. It was large enough to cover her hand completely, clearly not Lizzie’s.

Pavel, perhaps? Agnes thought so at first, relying on the steady grip as she stepped out.

But the moment she looked up, she met Dylan’s striking blue eyes.

“Your Grace.”

Surprised, Agnes froze as Dylan’s hand shifted, supporting her arm and waist with effortless grace. Before she even realized it, she was standing safely on the ground.

He smiled warmly, greeting her in his usual calm tone.

“Did you enjoy your outing?”

“Thanks to you.”

“If you have time, would you take a walk with me in the garden? I would like to hear about your day.”

Agnes might have been naïve in many ways, but she was not foolish enough to take those words literally.

Dylan must have already been informed of what had happened today, likely through someone other than Pavel.

“With pleasure.”

She smiled lightly and accepted his escort. The two walked slowly through the garden while the servants followed at a respectful distance.

“Your Grace, thank you for letting me borrow Sir Pavel today. Thanks to him, I had a more pleasant day than expected.”

“Pavel is skilled with a sword but even better with words. He enjoys company, so I thought he would make a fine guide.”

“He truly did. I had thought knights were always solemn and intimidating, but his stories were lively and full of excitement.”

Agnes covered her mouth as she laughed softly.

As they talked, Gavelin must have given some discreet signal, for the servants began to fall back little by little.

By the time they reached a quiet spot where a tea table was set, the attendants were far enough away that they could not overhear unless someone raised their voice.

Agnes quietly admired that subtlety. It was a level of grace and discipline the servants of Count Overhen’s household had never possessed.

She took Dylan’s hand as he helped her sit, and Gavelin poured the tea himself. Agnes nodded her thanks before placing the envelope on the table.

“As you may have already guessed, this is a marriage document from Count Overhen, my former husband. He said that if I return, he will restore my title as Countess Overhen and acknowledge me again as Noah’s mother.”

Dylan lifted his teacup and inhaled the aroma, neither feigning surprise nor confirming that he already knew.

When the steam from the cup faded into the air, he finally spoke in his usual calm tone.

“You are not showing me this because you intend to end our contract, are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Was my guess wrong?”

“No, Your Grace is right. I am not going back to the Count of Overhen’s household.”

Even as she said it, Agnes felt strangely dazed.