Chapter 5
The magic spell that helped me endure three hellish years in Rochester.
Or rather, a curse disguised as hope that slowly dragged me into despair.
“If you wait long enough, good days will come.”
At first, I waited.
But after a few bitter disappointments, I realized—no matter how long I waited, good days never came.
“Mikhail will never look at me.”
I felt all the strength drain from my body at the thought that he might never, ever see me—not for the rest of my life.
“I can’t live like this forever.”
Then I remembered something I had heard from the estate’s ladies-in-waiting one day.
“What’s wrong with my lady and the master?”
“It’s ‘cause they don’t have a kid. Once they have one, they’ll be all lovey-dovey.”
“…Would things really change between Mikhail and me if I got pregnant?”
It was foolish to cling to such a random comment.
But at the time, I was so desperate for even a sliver of hope that I grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
“…Mikhail, it’s me. Do you recognize me?”
“…Evelyn.”
That night, when he came home drunk, I went to his bedroom.
“I have a request. Just spend one night with me. I won’t bother you ever again.”
Maybe he liked the part about me never bothering him again.
That night, Mikhail held me.
And now, two months after that night—
“Ugh, urgh…”
I thought I might be having morning sickness.
It had been a while since my period stopped.
As soon as the thought struck, I immediately went to a clinic near the Rochester estate.
It was the best option, as I couldn’t trust the people in the mansion.
And today, I got the diagnosis.
As expected—
“Congratulations. You’re two months pregnant.”
But then I was hit with a completely unforeseen variable.
“However, in your current condition, giving birth is not advisable.”
“What do you mean?”
“…Your health isn’t good. Why did you wait so long to come in?”
The physician said I had a rare disease.
“At first, it feels like you’re just catching colds or having headaches. But eventually, your organs will begin to fail. And in the end…”
…I’ll die.
It was like a bolt from the blue.
“You may have up to three years left. Less, if you don’t terminate the pregnancy.”
“Is there… no cure?”
“It’s too late. Had you come earlier, maybe… But the cost of treatment is astronomical.”
“How much are we talking?”
“Around one billion Eckart.”
Back at the mansion, I stared at the diagnosis papers over and over—at the words “death” and “pregnancy.”
The physician said I could live if I had the treatment, but a billion Eckart was enough to buy a large mansion in the capital.
There was no way I could afford that.
I briefly considered begging my birth family—but would they give money to the daughter they sold off and hadn’t contacted in three years?
And asking Mikhail was out of the question.
“I already caused him to lose a hundred billion Eckart because of me. I can’t ask for more.”
More than guilt, it was a deep sense of futility.
Was my life even worth a billion Eckart?
Especially with such slim odds of survival—borrowing money didn’t seem like a real option.
But still, it didn’t feel real.
“I’m… going to die?”
It was the first time I’d ever truly considered the idea. I felt faint.
And then, a thought crossed my mind.
“Would he be even a little sad if I died?”
I imagined Mikhail standing before my corpse.
But…
“There’s no way he would be.”
It was laughable how easily I could imagine him unmoved.
Three years.
That’s how long I’d spent in this mansion.
He had always been indifferent. No matter how hard I tried, nothing changed.
What were the odds that the three years I had left would be any different?
Would telling him I was pregnant with his child mean anything to him?
“…I doubt it.”
That was when I realized:
It was time to end this ambiguous relationship.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
For a moment, I thought I might regret it.
But regret is for the future—and I only had three years left, so maybe it didn’t matter.
And besides, he probably didn’t want a corpse in his mansion.
He may have even been waiting for me to say this.
“What are you talking about?”
As expected, his eyes widened.
Unlike his usual detached reactions, this time he seemed genuinely taken aback.
‘Is this the first time I’ve said something that actually interests him?’
It was a pathetic thought, but it strengthened my resolve.
‘Ending this is the right decision.’
Even if I died, he wouldn’t care—not even a little.
“I’ve thought about it a lot. I think it’s better if we go our separate ways.”
I placed the divorce papers I had prepared in front of him.
His eyebrows twitched.
He didn’t look pleased.
I could tell just from the way he stared at the papers.
“Isn’t this what you wanted—”
Thud.
A weight pressed down on both my shoulders.
When I looked up, he was gripping them, his dark blue eyes blazing.
A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the fury in his gaze.
“That’s not what this conversation was supposed to be about.”
“…M-Mikhail.”
“Explain yourself. Why are you suddenly bringing up divorce?”
“You’re hurting me.”
His grip loosened slightly—but his eyes still burned.
Like an interrogation.
I steadied myself and spoke.
“…I can’t endure this anymore.”
“What?”
His eyes flickered violently, as if the thought had never occurred to him.
“What do you mean?”
I choked up.
The memories of the past three years boiled over.
“I… I can’t breathe, Mikhail.”
“Can’t breathe? What do you mean?”
He looked confused, as if he truly didn’t understand.
It made me laugh.
“Your attitude. That’s what’s suffocating me.”
“My attitude?”
He frowned.
“What have I ever done to you?”
“You’ve never once listened to me. Not once did you ask how I felt, or what kind of life I was living in this house.”
His expression twisted.
“So now you’re saying you want a divorce just because you’ve been feeling down?”
“Don’t trivialize it. I’ve been miserable. Not one day in this house has been peaceful for me. Not once in three years.”
He sneered.
“If that’s your reason, then I’ve got something to say, too.”
“…What?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. The massive loss I suffered because of your family.”
I froze.
I had forgotten.
The root of our misfortune—the moment everything between us broke.
“I’ve worked nonstop for three years to recover. Every single day. And now you want a divorce?”
“…”
“I told you three years ago, didn’t I?”
His gaze slid from my cheek down to my collarbone—slow and deliberate.
“That you belong to me.”
Had this been spoken between lovers, it might’ve sounded possessive in a charming way.
But not here.
I knew exactly what kind of “possession” he meant.
“Tch.”
He grabbed my chin and forced my gaze up.
His blue eyes gleamed with arrogant certainty.
“I needed the noble blood of the Athanasius duchess. Your family needed my money.”
“…”
“Your father sold you to me. Do you understand that?”
He wasn’t wrong.
A hundred billion Eckart—an absurd amount for a single person.
Enough to buy a small country.
“If you want a divorce so badly, repay that money first.”
He knew.
He knew I could never repay that debt.
That I had no way of escaping his grasp.
I had been too naïve.
The one thing he lacked—honor—he had tried to obtain by marrying me.
He wasn’t going to let me go easily.
As I stared at his mocking smile, a bitter laugh escaped me.
“You really are cruel.”
“Who wouldn’t be cruel when a 100-billion Eckart woman tries to run away?”
“Still… You hate seeing me, don’t you?”
That’s when his cold voice rang out:
“Who said that? That I hated seeing you?”
The chill in his tone was sharper than ever before. I trembled.
“…But I thought—”
“Ridiculous. If I really hated it, I would’ve asked for a divorce. I don’t keep things that annoy me.”
“…”
Only then did I realize how he saw me.
Something not annoying—but also not meaningful.
“Am I just… a well-bred trophy wife sitting in the corner of your house?”
Maybe I meant even less to him than I had imagined.
“Just stay in this mansion like you always have. Quiet and obedient. I don’t care what you do. All I want is…”
“…”
“For this marriage to continue.”
He released my shoulders completely.
Then, grabbing the divorce papers I had brought, he began tearing them apart.
Rip. Rip.
“What are you doing—!”
As I stared in horror at the shredded papers, he glanced at the clock and headed for the door.
“I’ll be going now.”
He was walking away again. If he left, it would be over.
I couldn’t let him go.
Another day in this hell—no, I wouldn’t survive it.
I clenched my fists.
‘In the end, I have no choice but to play that card.’
After catching my breath, I called out.
“…I’m pregnant.”
