“That’s quite all right. My son was out of line—entirely my fault,” Marchioness Elstin Heden apologized from across the table. “I’ll ensure he formally apologizes, and we’ll compensate for the broken fence.”
“Thank you, Marchioness,” Vendia replied, bowing in gratitude.
The Marchioness’s personal physician had already examined Vendia’s neck, where Baldini had grabbed her earlier. Fortunately, there were no marks—only a brief scuffle, sparing her from lasting injury.
“I believe that building in the Rims territory belonged to you,” Elstin noted.
“Yes, by chance,” Vendia said, lifting her teacup and casting a glance at the woman seated across from her.
Elstin Heden, Marchioness of House Heden.
In an empire where a woman’s property was considered family wealth—where even her bank accounts were accessible to her relatives—this woman had become the Marchioness on her own merit.
Her brown hair was neatly tied up without a single loose strand, and she wore a modest dress. Though the years had added a few fine lines to her face, she was still full of grace and poise. Had Vendia not known her age, she might have guessed her to be in her early forties.
Elstin remained as graceful, upright, and unwavering as ever. Always humble, yet never once faltering.
That such a woman’s son could be Baldini—was nothing short of astonishing.
Even more so that the man she’d thought to be in his forties was actually in his late twenties.
“That bald head in his twenties—how…?”
To top it off, Baldini wasn’t even the heir.
The Heden children were currently in a heated contest for succession.
“I heard about your divorce,” Elstin said softly.
“Yes, it was quite public,” Vendia replied. “So please, there’s no need to speak so formally. I’m no longer Vendia Kalbermer or Vendia Rose.”
“You look better than before.”
Elstin’s eyes gently rested on Vendia’s hands.
There was warmth in her gaze—and with it, a wave of old memories came flooding back.
A Flashback
“Mother… I’ve brought fresh tea…”
Vendia, visibly nervous, trembled as she picked up the teapot from the tray.
Whack!
Jane, her mother-in-law and Denros’s mother, struck her hand with a fan.
Startled, Vendia nearly dropped the teapot. If she had, scalding water might have drenched her lower body.
“Tch, trembling like that… Clearly showing what kind of family you came from. No grace at all.”
Jane raised her well-groomed brows in disdain, annoyed that Vendia had managed not to spill.
“S-sorry… I apologize.”
Muttering apologies, Vendia lowered her gaze and placed the pot and teacups on the table.
Though this task should’ve fallen to the servants, it had become routine for the duchess herself—Denros’s wife—to serve instead.
The ladies gathered for tea laughed quietly behind covered mouths.
Shame colored Vendia’s neck and ears red.
“You may wait over there. I’ll call for dessert when needed.”
Jane gestured with her fan toward the corner where the maids stood.
She didn’t expect to be treated like a true daughter-in-law—but as a count’s daughter, being treated like a servant still stung.
She felt isolated. She hadn’t married for love, but she hadn’t expected daily cruelty from her in-laws either.
Her husband offered no protection. And her own family might as well have not existed.
“…Yes.”
Vendia, knowing her place, silently stood beside the maids.
Even the maids looked down on her and giggled.
Out of frustration, she fidgeted with her fingers. The skin around her nails had already been torn multiple times, but she kept peeling at the scabs, numb to the pain.
“What region is Heden located in?” asked one of the noble ladies.
Today’s tea party was a gathering for noblewomen to meet Elstin Heden, who had traveled from her estate for business.
“The southernmost region,” Elstin replied.
“Ah, that explains it… I thought I smelled something foul.”
The women laughed, referring to the livestock common in the south.
But Elstin remained calm, staring silently at the woman who mocked her.
“Ahem! Surely you know better, but arriving at such a gathering empty-handed is quite improper.”
The mocking woman raised her voice in forced dignity, only to be met with Elstin’s steady gaze.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elstin said simply.
Her composed response only further irritated the noblewoman.
The rest of the women took the opportunity to belittle her, dismissing her business project, The Line, and ridiculing the idea of investing in a southern trade zone.
“I doubt it’ll succeed. Who would shop in such a backwater? Let’s just enjoy the tea. It’s something you can’t get in the south, after all.”
Finally, Jane, displeased with the discussion, brushed aside Elstin’s business proposal and ended the conversation.
Vendia had watched the entire scene unfold.
Despite the insults, Elstin stood her ground—explaining her business calmly, with dignity.
She had the same status as Vendia that day—an outsider—but her demeanor was entirely different.
Later, Elstin rose to go to the restroom, and a maid was assigned to escort her.
“Heh. I bet the stench will get even stronger now,” one lady whispered.
As the women tittered, Vendia slipped away, having sensed something was off.
She told the maid that Jane needed her urgently and insisted on escorting the Marchioness herself.
Since Vendia never disobeyed, the maid didn’t question her.
As she suspected, the maid had been leading Elstin toward the kitchen’s garbage disposal area.
“This way, Marchioness.”
“…You’ll be punished for this.”
Elstin had already realized the insult.
When she noticed Elstin’s gaze lingering on her hand, Vendia quickly hid her torn fingers behind her back.
“Oh… it’s fine. They always treat me like this.”
She led Elstin to the correct location.
That day, Jane had distributed fashionable crystal rose brooches to the guests—but deliberately excluded Elstin.
Feeling uncomfortable about it, Vendia gave Elstin one of her own possessions—a never-worn blue rose brooch adorned with pearls, a gift from Denros on their wedding day.
Unlike her own family, Elstin clearly cherished her children. Vendia was envious of that.
She couldn’t offer proof of Elstin’s worth—but at least she could give something.
“This one’s brand new. I hope your daughter will like it.”
Elstin, surprised, looked down at the gift.
She must have realized it came from Vendia’s personal collection.
“…Thank you.”
Elstin smiled kindly as she accepted it.
And then, noticing Vendia’s wounded hands, she softly added:
“If you ever need help, Duchess, come to me.”
A warm and gentle offer.
That day, Elstin departed.
Of course, Jane didn’t leave Vendia alone afterward.
Present Day
Vendia’s hands had long since healed—no more scabs or blood.
“I’m glad,” Elstin said, her smile gentle.
Perhaps her body still remembered the pain, because Vendia felt a strange lump in her throat.
To distract herself, she changed the subject.
“That business you talked about—The Line—I see it wasn’t so foolish. Those women couldn’t see the future.”
Elstin laughed humbly.
“It still has a long way to go—but Heden has become the south’s most commercialized territory thanks to it.”
She continued, “The brooch you gave—my daughter still cherishes it. And you go by Dia now?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, it’s a secret.”
“Naturally.”
Elstin tapped her chin, as if thinking.
“We must ensure that secret stays protected. The Heden House will help you.”
Vendia blinked in surprise.
“You’d help me?”
Elstin smiled.
“It’s payment for that brooch.”
“…Thank you.”
Warmth filled her chest.
Kind Vendia. Foolish Vendia.
Thanks to that kind heart, she now had help when she needed it most.
If only the old Vendia had known this is how it would return to her…
After more conversation, Vendia rose from her seat.
“I should get going, Marchioness.”
“Elstin,” she corrected. “Miss Dia.”
Vendia turned to see Elstin smiling warmly.
“Congratulations on your new beginning.”
It was the first genuine congratulations she’d received since her scandalous divorce.
Aww :’ ) I love women helping other women