Chapter 17
Golden hair lay scattered messily across the floor. Blood trickled from her head, and her face was pale.
Her body, slumped to one side, curved as if someone had carefully laid her down—forming an oddly graceful shape.
That sight was hauntingly beautiful.
Looking down from the second floor, Dera felt an eerie thrill as Shai’s collapsed figure overlapped with her own reflection in the glass.
She was in complete control. The sensation was electrifying—so much so that it left her dazed for a moment.
Perhaps she had stared too long.
One of the maids from the Grand Duke’s household, who had rushed to check on Shai’s condition, reflexively looked up toward the balcony. Her eyes met Dera’s directly.
Dera quickly forced her face into a mask of concern and confusion. But she couldn’t entirely erase the pleasure she had just felt.
Is that what gave me away…?
Officially, she was being blamed for leaving Shai alone on the balcony, resulting in the accident. But it was possible they suspected she had pushed her.
As if I’d ever kill her. If anything, I want her to live a long, long life—so I can keep her safe.
Dera wanted Shai to bloom more beautifully than anyone else. Someone with such a fierce desire to live life on her own terms—Dera wanted to crush that spirit and bend her to her will.
And it thrilled her to no end.
Only then could she always remain in a position of power.
That was Dera’s happiness. And she had no intention of giving it up.
A noble lady, so talented and beautiful, unable to live a truly happy life—forever beneath her feet.
As Betty and Jacquelyn looked ready to pick another fight, Dera slowly rose and stepped between them.
“We don’t need to fight among ourselves.”
It seemed Shai hadn’t died. That meant she was on the road to recovery.
If she were seriously injured, she wouldn’t have simply been relegated to menial work in the annex. The Grand Duke might be generous to his wife—but not to anyone else.
Shai had protected them. Thanks to her, they had enjoyed privileges in this house.
Dera knew that fact very well.
And Shai could never afford to cast them aside or treat them lightly. With certainty in her voice, Dera said,
“She’s going to need us again soon.”
Technically, Shai was now the Grand Duchess of Riverstar and should be addressed as milady. But to the three of them, she was still “the young lady”—a title that felt easier to manipulate.
That’s why, even within the Grand Duke’s estate, they continued to call her “miss” when alone with her.
At Dera’s words, Betty and Jacquelyn looked at her.
Their desires might differ, but they shared a common anchor.
Their lady. Shai Alantrea.
Their eternal host.
“You know it. She can’t live without us.”
When Dera said it with a smile, Betty and Jacquelyn exchanged glances and nodded.
Their weapons. The weaknesses they held over Shai.
They didn’t yet know why they had been cast aside like this, but they knew better than anyone—Shai couldn’t escape them.
“No matter how much she resists, she’ll need our help again. Soon she’ll go through a pain so dreadful it will feel like dying.”
An elephant tied by the leg as a calf won’t even try to escape when grown—even if the rope is removed.
“So let’s wait. She’ll come to us herself.”
At Dera’s words, both Betty and Jacquelyn nodded. For them to obtain what they each desired, Shai had to remain within their reach.
*
Meanwhile…
Benjamin walked through the imperial palace.
Though he carried an air of charm and nobility that would appeal to anyone, the palace servants instinctively kept their distance. They quietly continued their work or moved out of his way.
It was the pressure he exuded.
A presence only someone who had defeated monsters many times stronger than humans at the brink of death could possess.
Besides, Benjamin himself wasn’t an easy person to approach. He was polite but didn’t offer unnecessary smiles. His serious and dignified expression had a way of making others feel small.
He rarely showed emotional fluctuations.
The only person who had disturbed his calm lately was his wife.
In a short span of time, she had shaken him with two extreme emotions.
Despair—at the thought of losing someone dear.
And joy—because of that very person.
When he learned that Shai had fallen from the balcony and suffered a head injury, it felt like his heart hit the floor. The height hadn’t been extreme, but the head was a vulnerable area.
He knew all too well how easily a person could be ruined in a single moment.
But the despair quickly morphed into something else.
When she opened her eyes, the woman lying in that bed was no longer the same person he had married.
At their wedding, she had smiled for the sake of appearances. But on the way home, her face was frozen in a cold, expressionless mask.
She had sat like a beautifully adorned statue, lips sealed.
It was an expression of disdain for the marriage—far more piercing than anger.
After arriving at the Grand Duchy, she remained prickly and indulged in extravagance.
And yet, she never rejected sharing a bed with him. At those times, she felt like a different person. Sometimes passionate, sometimes infinitely gentle.
But in the end, she always said the same thing:
“Don’t think physical intimacy means you’ve touched my heart. That would be arrogant.”
But now… now she felt real.
Instead of sniping back, she had seemed flustered by his touch—but didn’t pull away.
She wasn’t cold or indifferent like before. She was considerate of others, yet didn’t lose herself—graceful and confident.
It was the version of her he had known in the past.
And that alone brought a warm breeze to Benjamin’s heart.
He was still savoring that rare feeling when a familiar, yet unwelcome figure appeared in the distance.
A faint flicker of discomfort crossed Benjamin’s face.
Count William Alantrea was walking toward him.
It was hard to believe this man was Shai’s biological father—they looked nothing alike.
Count William was lean and hawk-eyed, with bronze skin and sharp cheekbones. His steel-gray hair contrasted oddly with his dark brown eyebrows.
Steel-gray hair was a common trait among Alantrea’s direct bloodline. But interestingly, William was from a cadet branch.
Shai, on the other hand, had meltingly soft golden hair, brilliant blue eyes, and pale skin. When she smiled, her eyes curved charmingly. Her limbs were long, her features gentle and refined.
Some said she resembled her late mother, but the resemblance wasn’t exact. Nor did she look like her maternal or paternal grandparents.
Shai’s mother, Nihella, had also had steel-gray hair.
A direct descendant of the Alantrea line, Nihella had married William, from a cadet branch, and borne two children—Lucaldo and Shai.
Marriages between main and branch families weren’t rare. Even if the bloodline thinned slightly, such unions often helped solidify internal power.
Still, neither child inherited the direct line’s signature steel-gray hair.
Lucaldo had dark brown hair. Shai had golden blond.
A strong visual marker of the direct line might win more recognition from society, but lineage didn’t vanish just because of hair color. Both children were officially acknowledged as direct heirs.
However, it seemed William harbored some insecurity about his origins. After marrying Nihella and ascending as Count, he had silenced any mention of being from a cadet branch within the family.
He had become Count sooner than expected, after Nihella’s parents died in an accident less than three years into her marriage.
With the former Count and Countess gone, William’s parents—Shai’s paternal grandparents—began boasting loudly within both sides of the family, pretending they had always been from the main line.
But William was well-regarded in public, and so such rumors were often brushed aside.
On the surface, their father-daughter relationship appeared flawless. William often doted on Shai, and whenever she appeared at social gatherings, she was always adorned in the finest fashion, sparkling like a jewel.
Some young noblewomen even said aloud that they wished their aloof fathers were half as attentive as Count Alantrea.
Even in Benjamin’s presence, William had always behaved impeccably.
At a pre-wedding dinner, he had smiled bashfully as he cut Shai’s steak for her.
“It’s a habit from when she was little. I just can’t help myself, even now.”
He had said that, hadn’t he?
And yet, Benjamin couldn’t shake the chill that always crept in when he looked at William.
It was instinct.
