Chapter 138
The Countess’s Hidden Daughter
“Mr. Joseph! What are you doing here? I told you it’s dangerous for us to meet like this!”
“Mrs. Marshall! It’s almost done. The job is finished.”
At those words, Mrs. Lauren Marshall’s face lit up with excitement. But the man standing in front of her — Dr. Joseph Alden — looked anything but calm. His face was tight with anxiety.
“About ten minutes ago, a maid from the Pellon estate came with a big man to fetch me,” he said breathlessly. “She said Madam Pellon hasn’t woken up.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes. They tried to hurry me into their carriage, saying it was urgent. But I made an excuse — said I needed to pack my things — and escaped through the back door.”
He drained a glass of water in one gulp, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“My part in this ends here. If I go back now, I’ll be caught for sure.”
If he returned, too many eyes would be watching. He’d have to pretend to treat Trisha, but using the same drug again would only ensure her death. So this was the moment to vanish.
“You’ll pay me the rest of my fee — right now,” he demanded.
“Of course,” Lauren replied smoothly. “But first, write me a medical report saying Madam Pellon won’t recover.”
“I already wrote one.” He tapped his bag. “You’ll get it once I’m paid.”
Lauren smiled coldly and called out, “Jayden!”
Her son, Jayden Marshall, strolled in, looking bored and annoyed — but to his mother, even that was endearing.
“Jayden, go to your father and bring me the two hundred thousand dirham I mentioned before.”
“Two hundred thousand?” he repeated, startled. One glance at the doctor told him exactly who the money was for.
Lauren’s smile widened proudly. “And get ready to go out. We’re visiting the Imperial Nobility Office.”
“The Nobility Office? Why?”
“Your aunt — Countess Trisha Pellon — has fallen unconscious. Someone needs to step in as the acting head of the family, don’t you think?”
Jayden’s eyes widened. “Wait— she’s finally dying?”
Lauren threw back her head and laughed loudly. “Yes! Finally! And the one who made it happen deserves a proper reward.”
Turning back to Joseph, she lowered her voice, her tone syrupy and sweet.
“As we agreed, go to my estate in Siarthen for a while. It’s peaceful by the lake. Think of it as a vacation — go fishing, relax.”
“Are you sure no one will trace me there?”
“Once you leave this house, disguise yourself completely,” Lauren instructed. “But no one in Siarthen knows you. You’ll be safe.”
Joseph nodded, though uneasily. His doctor’s bag already contained everything for his disguise — a hat, false mustache, glasses. They had planned this scenario long ago — what to do if Trisha suddenly died or slipped into a coma.
Just then, Baron Marshall entered with Jayden, carrying the cash. Lauren stuffed the thick bundle of bills into Joseph’s empty bag.
As he looked down at the heavy payment, some of his fear eased, and he managed an awkward smile.
“Please contact me when everything settles.”
“Of course,” she replied sweetly. “Rest well until then.”
He tipped his hat and hurried out.
Jayden turned to find his mother laughing over the forged medical report, her eyes glinting with cruel delight.
“I can’t believe it was this easy! After all those years, I could have done this sooner. Oh, and I’ll make sure that girl Bella gets paid well for her help.”
“Does this mean I’ll really become the new Count of Pellon?” Jayden asked, still half in disbelief.
Lauren’s smile softened as she touched his cheek — her poor son, forced to live in the shadow of others for so long.
“Of course, my dear. You deserve it. Now, let’s go to the Imperial Nobility Office. I can’t wait to see the faces of those fools who called me crazy.”
With her husband and son following proudly behind, Lauren Marshall set off for the Imperial Office. The sky was bright, the air fresh — as if heaven itself were celebrating their “new beginning.”
When they arrived, Lauren put on a mask of sorrow and handed the forged report to the official in charge.
“I came on urgent business,” she said gravely. “My sister-in-law, Countess Trisha Pellon, has fallen unconscious and can no longer fulfill her duties as family head.”
The clerk blinked in surprise and unfolded the paper. It stated that Trisha had long suffered from a severe degenerative illness called Hix Legato Syndrome and was now in a permanent coma.
Lauren enjoyed watching the man’s changing expression before declaring proudly,
“So, I request that my son, Jayden Marshall — the first in line of succession — be officially appointed as acting head of the Pellon family.”
The official hesitated, whispering with his colleague, then took out another document from the cabinet.
“We’re sorry to hear about Countess Pellon’s condition,” he said carefully.
“Thank you,” Lauren replied smoothly. “Jayden will do his best to continue her work for the good of the family.”
“Well… there’s a problem,” the man said slowly.
Lauren’s gracious mask cracked instantly. She had heard it too many times before, but she was certain this time would be different.
“What do you mean, a problem? If you need to verify her condition, send someone immediately — I’ll wait.”
“That’s not the issue. The acting head has already been designated.”
“What?” Lauren’s voice rose. “How can that be? My son is first in line — who changed it without permission?”
The man calmly showed her the document.
“The first in line is Miss Roxana Pellon — the Countess’s daughter. According to the law, she automatically becomes acting head in this situation.”
Lauren’s voice turned shrill. “That’s impossible! Stop spouting nonsense! The Nobility Office is a joke!”
“Please, madam, calm yourself—”
“Calm? Countess Pellon has no children! None!”
She knew because she had checked the records herself before confronting Trisha. The document had been clear — no heirs.
But the official didn’t waver. Instead, he sighed and pointed to the papers again.
“As you can see here, on March 12th of this year, Countess Trisha Pellon filed to adopt Miss Roxana Balvenas. The adoption was officially approved on March 28th. As of May 28th, Miss Roxana Pellon is indeed the rightful first heir.”
Lauren froze. “That’s… impossible. When I checked, there was no one listed!”
“When did you check?”
“Um… around March…”
Her voice faltered. She remembered now — she had checked the registry around mid-March, filed her lawsuit on March 19th, and personally mocked Trisha about it on March 30th.
“But the adoption was approved on March 28th,” she whispered, her face draining of color.
That meant Trisha had completed the adoption just a few days after Lauren checked the records — barely in time.
One day. Just one day difference.
Lauren’s scream tore through the room.
“Aaah! No! How could this happen? That cursed old woman! How could she do this to me!”
She clutched her hair, shaking with fury, her scream echoing through the marble halls of the Imperial Office.
The baron rushed to restrain her from behind before she could start throwing things — otherwise, they might all be charged with insulting the officials right there.
***
Flashback — March 12th
On that very day, when Dr. Jasper Atworth warned that Trisha had one year left to live — three at most — she summoned a trusted lawyer and a notary to the Pellon mansion.
They were people who had served the family faithfully for years and could be trusted absolutely.
Inside her bedroom, she gathered only five people: the lawyer, the notary, her butler Andre, Roxana, and Harriet.
“My illness will become public soon,” Trisha said, her voice weak but steady. “And I refuse to let this house — which I protected all my life from greedy wolves — fall into unworthy hands.”
Her eyes burned with fierce determination. To her, the Pellon name was not just wealth — it was her life’s work, something she and her late husband had built together instead of having children.
She couldn’t leave it to those who only saw it as a pile of gold.
“Roxana,” she said, turning to her, “I want you to become my daughter.”
Roxana jumped up, eyes wide. “W–what?”
