Chapter 2

The woman I pushed fell to the floor in a disgraceful heap.

“Ahk! Wh-what?!”

She glared at me like she wanted to rip me apart, then froze in surprise.

“Lady Florence? How are you here?”

I remembered her. Before the wedding, when I first met Edmund briefly, this private tutor had attended in place of his nanny.
Of course she knew my face.

And yet, she still called me Lady Florence.
Her expression made it clear she couldn’t understand my behavior. Almost as if to say: ‘Why are you here?’

Even earlier, when I asked the maid where the study was, she had reacted the same way.

So I asked the obvious question:

“Am I not allowed to come here or something?”

“Th-that’s not it… it’s just… your appearance right now is…”

Clearly, she thought I looked strange. I hadn’t washed or even combed my hair, let alone dressed properly.

But I ignored it.

‘So what.’

Then, in words that didn’t match my young-looking body, I spoke.

“What’s wrong with a wife visiting her husband?”

And it was true.
Even if I looked thirteen or fourteen, I was still a married woman.

The Duke may have forced the marriage and no proper ceremony had taken place, but—
I was officially Edmund’s wife.

‘The wife of the Cohen heir. No one can deny that.’

No matter how I looked, no one could say I had no right to visit him.

“….”

What was her name again?

‘Ah, right. Moretti.’

From the bits of information I had gathered these past three days, I knew:
She was the real power in this mansion, and one of the Duke’s close aides.

In short—my enemy!

“And what’s with that title? Lady Florence? Don’t you know who I am?”

“Ah!”

Only then did she realize her mistake.

Right now, I was Cassia Cohen.
Wife of the young lord of Cohen.

But when I asserted my rightful title, it wasn’t only Moretti who stiffened.

The boy in my arms—Edmund Cohen—shivered as if he were repulsed.

“Ah.”

That’s when I realized—I was still holding him tightly right in front of Moretti.
Quickly, I let go. Edmund looked at me with a complicated expression, then stepped back a few paces.

His face clearly said:

“What is this woman planning?”

Suspicion written all over him.
And of course he’d think that way.

‘To him, I’m the wife forced on him by the very uncle who wants him dead.’

Edmund hated this marriage.
And in the original story, Cassia had tormented him terribly. His distrust was natural.

But I didn’t have time to focus on him.

Because Moretti, who had been sprawled on the floor in shock, finally snapped back to her senses.

“How dare you, Little Madam! How could you behave so violently? To lay hands on me, Moretti?!”

She called me Little Madam, but her tone wasn’t one of a servant.
Her voice was dripping with arrogance, full of disdain.

I calmly answered.

“I only punished a servant for her rudeness.”

“…What?”

“You just called me Lady Florence, didn’t you? That means you don’t acknowledge me as the Young Lord’s wife. I punished you accordingly. Any problem with that?”

I smiled arrogantly, mocking her.

‘You’re just a background villain. In the original story, you don’t even have a proper name! While I—at least I’m a named villain!’

Of course, that “privilege” came with a miserable fate. The thought almost made me lose heart.

But I steadied myself. Moretti was still ranting.

“I am the tutor personally appointed by the Duke! To interfere with my teaching is to insult the Duke himself!”

“Oh really? And you say beating the Young Lord’s hand bloody is proper discipline? Approved by the Duke himself?”

“Th-that’s…!”

I hit the nail on the head.
She flinched. But since she had already admitted as much through her words and actions, she couldn’t outright deny it.

“As you know, I am the Young Lord’s wife, chosen and married by the Duke himself.”

I pulled Edmund’s swollen, bleeding hand into view, smirking at her.

“If a servant can punish the Young Lord to this extent, then what I did to punish you—a servant who insulted his wife—was extremely light, don’t you think?”

“Th-that’s…!”

It was logical.
If the household was strict enough that servants could injure the Young Lord in the name of discipline, then surely a servant who insulted the Young Lord’s wife deserved far harsher punishment.

Moretti was trapped by her own logic. She couldn’t refute it.

I gave her a bright smile and declared:

“Oh, I see now. You must be surprised because my punishment was too light. Don’t worry.”

She tried to protest, but I spoke over her.

“You are to remain under house arrest for one day. That is an order from the Young Lord’s wife.”

“L-Little Madam!!!”

Moretti screamed. But I shook my head.

‘No use. You’re not getting out of this. Obey.’

Realizing too late that she had fallen into my trap, she ground her teeth in frustration.
But since I had issued a strict order, emphasizing the difference between master and servant, she couldn’t resist.

As a petty villain, she could only throw out bitter words as she left the study.

“The Duke will never let this go once he hears of it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll explain it myself.”

She had basically tried to curse me, saying, ‘When the Duke hears, you’ll be in trouble.’
And I replied, ‘News doesn’t only come to him through you.’

That shut her up completely.

“….”
“….”

When Moretti finally left, only Edmund and I remained in the study.
And the silence was painfully awkward.

Even though I’d boldly declared myself his wife earlier, the truth was—
This was our first real meeting since signing the marriage papers three days ago.

After all, I had possessed Cassia’s body on the wedding night.

So to Edmund, I was nothing more than the gloomy-faced girl dragged here to sign marriage documents.
A wife forced on him by the uncle trying to kill him.

No wonder his first direct words to me were—

“What’s your scheme?”

Exactly what I expected after seeing his expression earlier.

I shrugged.

“Nothing more than what you saw. I just put a servant in her place.”

If I had said outright, ‘I was defending you,’ he would never have believed me.
So I gave an explanation he could at least accept.

“So, you want to be treated like a mistress above Moretti now?”

“Of course. Isn’t that natural?”

At that, Edmund let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.

Meanwhile, I reached for his hand again—the one that had been struck until it bled.

‘How could anyone do this to a thirteen-year-old’s hand?’

Before I realized it, I asked softly:

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“…?!”

The boy froze like a statue.

When I clicked my tongue and tried to clean his wound with a handkerchief, he yanked his hand back in alarm.

“What are you doing?!”

His face flushed red as he backed away.

“Obviously, I’m trying to treat it.”

I stepped forward, but Edmund only grew redder and retreated further.

‘He’s really upset.’

And who could blame him?
His new wife, who he hadn’t seen since the wedding night, suddenly showed up acting strangely. Of course he’d be wary.

‘He’s like a stray cat that’s been hurt too many times.’

So now he was hissing and bristling, ready to scratch at anyone who got close.

‘Even in my old life, cats never liked me.’

They only stole my snacks, and I never got to pet them once.
The thought made me a little sad.

Then Edmund muttered in a dazed, conflicted voice:

“And why did you rush here looking like a mess, when you usually parade around dressed up? As if you came to rescue someone.”

“You’re right. I came to rescue my husband.”

At my honest answer, Edmund’s face twisted.

“You lie without even blinking.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Everything you’re doing right now is a lie.”

His eyes were full of suspicion.

Well, what could I do?
Trust couldn’t be built in a single moment.

I raised my hands and stepped back, showing with my body language that I meant no harm.
Instead, I placed the handkerchief on the study table.

“Fine. I’ll leave it here. Wrap your wound properly. Be careful. I’ll be going now.”

With that, I walked out and closed the door.

Through the narrowing gap, I caught a glimpse of Edmund’s wide red eyes—round as a startled rabbit’s.
Seen like that, he looked his age. Even… rather cute.

Just as I stepped out of Edmund’s study, I was grabbed by an expected—yet unwelcome—person.

My wrist was seized, and I was dragged roughly into a corner of the hall.

“Kyaa!”

I thought about screaming for Edmund or another servant.
But the moment I saw Moretti’s furious eyes and heard her low threat, I changed my mind.

“How dare a little brat act like this to an adult! Do you really think being called Young Lord’s wife makes you someone?”

Moretti spat her words like poison. No—like a threat.

“You’re only ‘Lady Cohen’ thanks to the Duke. What do you think will happen if I tell him about your behavior today? Hm? Don’t you want to know?”

So that was her threat.
She would report me to the Duke for siding with Edmund.

Clearly, she was still fuming about the punishment I had given her.

I suddenly remembered—my current body really was still that of a young girl.
Moretti was a full head taller, and when she grabbed my arm, I couldn’t move.

She probably thought she could crush me with brute force.

‘But she’s wrong if she thinks I’m just an ordinary little girl.’

My wrist hurt, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.
I turned my head and stared right into her eyes, voice dripping with confidence.

“Go ahead. Try it—if you’re tired of living.”

“…What?!”

She flinched.
Clearly, she hadn’t expected such a threat.

I smiled brightly, but my words were sharp.

“Who do you think the Duke would believe more—me, his nephew’s wife, or you, just a lowly tutor?”

Moretti’s face went pale.