“…You…”
At my words, the girl curled her lips into an arrogant grin.
“Who were you again?”
A crack instantly formed in that smug expression.
“Y-You mean you don’t remember me?” she snapped, glancing nervously at the noble daughters gathered nearby. Her haughty façade shattered in an instant.
“It’s me! Vivian Cavendish!”
Ah.
I slowly rounded my lips in feigned realization, as though her name had just returned to me.
Truth be told, I hadn’t forgotten Vivian Cavendish. I had simply
pretended
not to remember.
“Aren’t you a lowborn? Isn’t it shameful, pretending to be nobility just because your mother and brother leech off some new husband?”
No matter how thick-skinned someone is, who could forget
that
?
Vivian had always made it her mission to be remembered. Just knowing she might’ve been forgotten by someone like me would be enough to feel like a grave insult.
Proof enough—her face was now beet red, flushed so deep it looked like steam might rise from her scalp.
Vivian Cavendish, heiress of the southern empire’s wealthiest Marquis household.
We’d first met when my mother had just married the Viscount of Wedgwood.
At the time, my mother had been desperate to thrust me into high society. To mold me into a proper noble lady, she insisted I receive proper training.
Now I’ve grown quite skilled in the art of performance, but back then, I still clung to the speech, habits, and temper of a common-born girl.
So my mother paid a ridiculous sum to have me attend an etiquette class for young noblewomen in the southern provinces.
That’s where I met Vivian.
Vivian Cavendish—the girl who gifted me my first, and worst, prejudice against nobles.
She was the star pupil of the class. And I, the notorious adopted daughter of the scandal-ridden Wedgwood family, became her favorite target of mockery.
She’d trip me subtly in passing. Tug on my hair when no one was looking. Those things, I could endure. But the one thing I could never forgive, now or then—
Was when people insulted my family.
“Don’t grip the teacup like that—it’s so vulgar. You’ll be scolded by your future mother-in-law. Oh, right… wasn’t your mother a commoner? I suppose that explains your lack of upbringing.”
And back then…
…I was in the peak of my rebellious phase.
“Mother-in-law my foot. If anyone dares lecture me over how I hold a stupid teacup, I’ll douse them in the tea itself.”
I stood up abruptly, lifted the cup, and made as if I would pour it over Vivian’s head. I didn’t actually pour it, mind you.
But that alone was enough to send the prim noble girl screaming and tumbling backward.
“Kyaaaa!”
The real problem came next.
Vivian, panicking on her own, tripped on the tablecloth and spilled hot tea—
on herself
.
She burned her foot. Barely. Truly—
barely.
Just a teeny, tiny red mark.
But that was enough to get me expelled from the class, and enough to bar my mother from ever attending another southern society gathering again.
I remember how the Viscount slapped me across the face when he heard about it.
“You idiot!”
Getting hit by that scum meant little to me. What hurt more was having to hide it from my mother.
I spent days in secret, icing my swollen cheek and bloody nose.
Yes, there were days like that.
Days where I told myself I was enduring not because I feared that beast, but because I had to protect my mother and brother.
Days when cowardice grew inside me like a parasite, and I could only watch as it took root.
What I hated more than poverty… was
those days.
Now, I looked Vivian in the eye and said, in a calm, lifeless voice:
Actually Useful Fraudulent Marriage – Chapter 6
Chapter 6
"So you finally remembered, Vivian. You were that trembling little girl scared I’d splash you with hot tea, weren’t you?"
At my words, the girls surrounding Vivian looked at one another with startled eyes. Vivian’s face turned red, then pale.
"You… you…!"
"It’s been a while…"
When I rose from my seat, Vivian gave me a look full of expectation. As if thinking,
‘Good. You know your place. Now bow your head.’
I gave her a faint smile.
"Still not glad to see you, though."
At that, not only Vivian’s friends but even Lily burst into laughter.
Vivian shot Lily a glare. With her personality, she might start disciplining Lily on the spot. I didn’t want Lily to get caught up in this mess because of me, so I quickly changed the subject.
"I should go see my mother. Judging from those screams, it sounds like she’s being assassinated by one of her servants. Well then, I’ll be off, Vivian."
Just as I was adjusting my dress hem to leave, a thoroughly provoked Vivian snapped at me.
"I heard your mother’s finally about to have her fifth marriage? To the Duke of Orléans, no less. Unbelievable. All the noble houses in the capital are betting on whether the marriage will last even a year. As a matter of fact, we were just placing bets too."
With a face dead-set on humiliating me, Vivian exchanged knowing looks with the noble daughters behind her.
They all laughed while glancing at me.
I glanced up toward the second floor, where my mother’s screams still echoed.
Before, I might’ve swallowed my pride for the sake of my mother’s upcoming marriage to the Duke of Orléans.
For her, and for my brother.
But not anymore.
Looking at Vivian’s luscious hair, a devious little plan bloomed in my mind.
I whispered to Lily,
"Lily, I need a favor."
"Yes, should I have the carriage—"
"No, not that. I just need you to distract Mother. Ten minutes, that’s all. And please… never speak a word about this conversation between Lady Vivian and me."
"You—what are you planning…"
Vivian furrowed her brows, likely hearing my voice.
I didn’t answer. My hands moved first.
"Aaaaaargh!"
Vivian’s scream echoed through the boutique.
That day, the silky hair of poor Vivian Cavendish turned into nothing more than a clump of protein scattered across the carpet.
✵
✵
✵
After that, the social circles gave me a new nickname:
The Southern Wildcat.
Better that than a southern bumpkin, wouldn’t you agree?
I was quite pleased. My mother, however, nearly fainted upon hearing it.
Of course, she had rushed down as soon as she heard Vivian’s scream and tried to apologize to her.
Vivian refused to accept the apology and screamed she’d be sending an official letter of protest—not just to our residence, but to the Duke of Orléans himself.
Stunned, my mother couldn’t even scold me properly. She simply turned pale and was carried off in a carriage.
The next morning, Philip and I boarded a carriage bound for the Duke’s manor.
"Why did you do that?! Why now, of all times?! Have you lost your mind? You’ve lived quietly all this time! Was it too quiet?! Did something fly out of your head—like reason? Common sense? Your entire grasp on reality?!"
Mother was bedridden at the estate trying to cool her temper, so only Philip and I were in the carriage.
He nagged me mercilessly the entire way, but I let it go in one ear and out the other.
There’s no way out of this now. The engagement is as good as broken.
Of course, neither Vivian nor any of her noble companions would’ve told their families the full truth. They likely left out all of Vivian’s venomous insults and only reported my “violent outburst.”
By now, the rumors must’ve spread with wings, sweeping through noble courts like wildfire. I could imagine letters already piling on the Duke’s desk from every branch of the House of Orléans.
“To accept a wretch like Emelyn as an adopted daughter is a disgrace to the prestige of House Orléans!”
No doubt that’s what the highborn lords had decreed.
And that wasn’t all.
Right after yesterday’s incident, Lily had been sent to report to the Duke. That girl was more hound than servant—utterly loyal to House Orléans. Yet my mother, desperate as always, had handed her a petty purse of coin, asking her to keep quiet.
But if Lily decided to inform the Duke
even about that…
“Perfect. By now, the entire Orléans household probably understands just how depraved our family truly is.”
I let out a dry laugh.
Philip, who had been scolding me mere moments ago, fell completely silent.
He stared at my face, then softened his tone, coaxing me like a worried elder brother.
“Tell me the truth… yeah? That foul-mouthed Vivian said something to you again, didn’t she? Or maybe… maybe she struck first? That’s why you’re doing this crazy act and laughing like a lunatic, right?”
I looked into Philip’s desperate eyes.
“She said something?”
“Yeah. Something nasty. Some insult. Or maybe she did something sneaky—like when you two used to take classes together and she’d pinch your arm when no one was looking?”
“…You knew she used to pinch me back then?”
I raised an eyebrow. Philip avoided my gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly.
Back then, I’d assumed Philip didn’t care about me at all—too busy skipping class to flirt with every other young noble lady.
“Of course I knew. Every time she did it, I bribed her maid and had her mix a little laxative in Vivian’s afternoon cakes.”
Oh, this stupid brother of mine…
Did he really think that maid would dare taint her master’s food? More likely, she pocketed the coin and claimed she did.
Philip really had a talent for wasting money.
I shot him a pitying look.
But then, over his face, I saw the bloodied version of him from that dream… after being shot by the Duke’s spiritual weapon.
Suddenly, a warmth stirred inside me—genuine affection for my infuriating brother. It might have been the first time I’d ever felt it.
“So? What did she do this time? She
must’ve
done something. No way you’d just go yanking her hair out of nowhere! Not when we’re this close to becoming the adopted heirs of a great noble house! You lunatic!”
He was yelling loud enough to shake the entire carriage.
And right on cue, the carriage rolled to a halt. Our bodies jolted with the stop.
Philip quickly straightened his robes as the door opened.
Outside stood the Duke of Orléans, and beside him—his son, Erik.
Four crimson eyes turned toward me in unison.
Seeing them made me mutter to Philip:
“…It wasn’t
without
a reason.”
But he didn’t seem to hear me.
With a flawless, fake smile, he stepped gracefully from the carriage.
I remained behind, silently staring at his back—clutching a single desperate hope:
Please. Let that madman… let that monster… let us go.
However, that hope was thoroughly shattered the moment I stood beside Philip before the Duke of Orléans.
The Duke looked at me with a radiant smile and said,
"Visiting the Duke’s manor so early in the day—seems you’ve both been quite anxious, Imeline, Philip. No need to worry. Everything has been settled peacefully with the Marquis' clan."
Damn it.
I had forgotten something crucial.
The House of Orléans possessed the kind of overwhelming spiritual wealth that could smother any rumors in the social realm with a flick of the hand.
The moment I sighed, Eric, standing behind the Duke, shot me a cold glance.
What? What are you staring at?
I swallowed down the urge to pick a fight and greeted him with proper courtesy.
Judging by the intensity of the Duke's obsession, if I truly wanted to sever this engagement, I’d need a disruption far more powerful.
A catastrophe grand enough to shatter this union beyond repair.
Chapter 7