# 1
---
From the pile of violently burning fire rose the smell of freshly baked bread. This was because what was offered to the fire were sheaves of wheat.
The man threw another sheaf of wheat into the burning flames, then spat out an angry curse.
"How long are we going to continue this madness? Why burn all this good wheat? Why not at least give it to the pigs?"
The man standing next to him trembled nervously, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Do you want to die? Lower your voice!"
“So this is how the Taylors end... Since the late Duke and his wife have suddenly passed away, this family has been cursed with evil.”
“Speak low, please!”
“We are drowning in debt, yet we burn wheat instead of ling it! Imagine, an ancient family like this collapses in less than ten years.”
After looking around anxiously, the other man muttered in a low voice:
“It is said that they are paid money in return... for burning this much wheat.”
“Because the wheat shortage will raise prices, and they will profit from that. But don’t they realize that this is a kind of betrayal?”
“……”
“I thought Miss Grace's presence would give us at least a little hope...”
The man threw the last remaining sheaves of wheat into the fire, then let out a long, deep sigh.
"But she's a girl, not an heir. They'll just marry her off and send her away."
His eyes turned red.
“And yet… how could they marry her off to that notorious scoundrel? Isn’t that unfair?”
“Just wait… Miss must have her own plans.”
The eyes of the men standing in front of the fire turned in the same direction, where the huge palace of the Dukes of Taylor rose in the darkness. The shadow of the majestic palace in the darkness looked bleak, sad...just as on that night thirteen years ago when the former Duke and Duchess died under mysterious circumstances.
●●●●●
"Mom! What do you think of me?"
Duchess Emma Taylor looked up lazily from her meek pose as a maid tended her nails. Her daughter, Rosette Taylor, wearing a luxurious pink dress, was swaying in front of the mirror, delighted with herf.
“Very beautiful, miss.”
“Isn't it?”
Mrs. Cornwell flirted with her in a pleasant tone, but the Duchess looked her daughter up and down and said coldly:
"Don't exaggerate. You're pretty enough without that."
Rosette's features froze in the mirror, then she turned around and complained:
“I want to be the most beautiful at the wedding!”
“Don’t worry, you will be the brightest even on that day.”
Cornwell tried to comfort her gently, but Rosette, absent-minded, opened the red jewelery box on the table. There were so many jewels inside that it caught the eye even of a duke's daughter like her.
“Are these dazzling jewels worthy of that insignificant girl named Grace?!”
She knew that the jewelry was a gift from the groom to his bride, but anger was eating away at her. It was natural for the bride to be the star of the party, but she could not bear the idea of all eyes being on Grace.
The Duchess laughed lightly, dismissed the maids, and said, looking at her polished nails:
“So, do you want to marry Young Count Jackson instead of Grace?”
Rosette gasped in shock and shook her head vehemently.
"My mom!"
“Of course, my daughter can’t marry a man like him. He has six illegitimate children, and has a bad reputation… But tomorrow, at least show some mercy to Grace.”
The house of the Sachsens, the groom's family, was staying in Taylor's palace before the wedding, and news of the young count's bad behavior spread far and wide. He harassed the maids and repeatedly beat the servants.
Emma smiled coldly as she recalled Grace Taylor's face resembling the late Duchess.
“At least with this marriage, the Taylors' debt will be completely forfeited.”
Count Sachsen agreed to the marriage without a dowry, and even waived the huge debt owed to the family. An attractive deal for those on the verge of bankruptcy.
Rosette muttered in dissatisfaction:
“She is giving back to what my parents did for her.”
"correct."
The Duchess rose and patted her daughter on the shoulder.
“Enough talk about jewelry now.”
"…Good."
After sending her daughter, Emma walked briskly through the corridors of the palace sparkling with lights. She took a deep breath and raised her shoulders confidently.
Thirteen years ago, the former Duke and Duchess died on the same day, leaving an only child. Due to imperial laws, the daughter could not inherit the title, so the title passed to John and Emma Taylor, who were distantly related.
At first Emma felt like a stranger to everything in this palace, but she soon convinced herf that it was all her lot. She removed pictures of the late dukes, and banished anyone who dared to nostalgia for them. She wanted to completely erase their history, to appear as if she had been the mistress of the palace from the beginning.
“You have arrived, Duchess.”
Grace Taylor quietly rose from her seat, having been reviewing the fiefdom's administration papers until the eve of her wedding.
Grace was the late Duke's only daughter, legitimate heir, a "true Taylorist".
From their first meeting, Emma realized that she could never love this girl. The people who loved the Duke and Duchess revered Grace more than her daughter Rosette, making her a living symbol of the past she wanted to bury.
But all that will end today; After Grace's marriage, everything belongs to Emma alone.
Emma smiled feigned meekness and said:
“The Duke has chosen for you a groom who is superior to you.”
“……”
“The gifts were really nice.”
Grace raised her eyes, and their gazes met with clear green eyes like those in ancestral paintings. Emma smiled and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Be patient, even if your husband brings his illegitimate children and sometimes insults or beats you. Your life will be miserable, but you have no choice but to be patient. And you are good at that, aren’t you?”
Her smile became a biting, filled with hatred.
“After marriage, you will no longer be a Taylor, so don’t ever think about asking this family for help. Just be quiet and be patient. Maybe after twenty years, you will become the lady of the Saxons.”
Maybe...if you survive until then.
“Anyway, I wish you a happy life.”
The Duchess uttered her elegant words, which were almost like a curse, and then turned to leave.
Emma had hated Grace since childhood, not because she had abused her, but because the child had the dignity of true nobility that Emma could never possess. Even now, her calm, uplifted features still give rise to shivers of rage. I quickly left the room.
Grace looked at the closed door, then turned to Cornwell. Their gazes met for a silent moment, then the supervisor also left, so Grace was left alone, contemplating the palace’s carefully stacked papers.
These documents concerned the affairs and finances of the duchy, and were supposed to be handled by the duke himf, but John Taylor was only a baron in name and knew nothing of administration. He could not do without a few loyal servants of the former, because he was simply unable to manage the affairs of the palace alone.
The new family wasted their power and time on luxury and play, leaving all the burdens on the shoulders of Grace, who alone took on the work of the true master.
As she was about to sit down again, a pale-faced maid rushed towards her, shouting:
"Miss Grace! Miss Grace!"
"What is there?!"
Before she could finish her question, a sharp, air-shattering scream rang out nearby.
The maid cried, crying:
“Young Count Sachsen… he… assaulted Jessie!”