The night cloaked the castle in its dark shroud, the faint glow of torches flickering on its massive gates. A frail woman stood there, barely able to hold herself upright, let alone the small child she cradled in a threadbare cloth. Her face was a canvas of torment; swollen green eyes brimming with tears, and bruises scattered like tragic constellations, each telling its own tale of suffering. Her trembling voice echoed with desperation:
"Please, let me in... I am the duke's sister!"
Her pleas were met with mocking laughter from the guards. One of them, his voice steeped in disdain, replied loudly:
"And I am the duke's father!"
Their laughter grew louder, but she did not relent. Her cries grew more fervent, her tears flowing unchecked, hysteria gripping her frail frame.
Elsewhere in the castle, Olivia, stood by the tall window of her chamber. The cold night air whispered through the curtains, but her eyes remained fixed on the distant gates. Since her husband's departure, she had formed a nightly habit of standing there, silently yearning for his return, as if her gaze alone could summon him. But tonight, something caught her attention.
"What's happening there?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes in an effort to discern the scene below.
The guards appeared to be speaking to someone, but the distance and darkness obscured her view. Her brows knitted together, and with a swift turn, she moved toward her wardrobe. She grabbed her cloak, draped it over her shoulders, and descended the stairs with resolute steps. A strange pull urged her forward, a need to uncover what was unfolding, especially since the servants had ceased bringing her news of the castle's troubles after that incident with the maid.
The castle's courtyard was eerily still, the late hour having lulled most into slumber. Her soft footsteps echoed faintly as she approached. The guards' voices grew louder, sharp with scorn:
"Get lost! Be gone, you wench! The duke isn't here, and the duchess won't stoop to meet the likes of you!"
Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Olivia clasped her hands behind her back, raising an elegant brow in bemusement. Quietly, she advanced, the guard's words ringing in her ears with misplaced confidence. She halted behind him, her presence unnoticed until he turned, startled by her shadow. His face blanched, and he fell to his knees instantly:
"Your Grace! I didn't mean... She's lying! I only wanted to drive her away!"
Olivia's voice, icy and measured, sliced through his stammering:
"Whether she stays or leaves is my decision, not yours. Why wasn't I informed of her presence?"
The guard fumbled for a response, but before he could speak, the woman lunged forward, collapsing at Olivia's feet. Her trembling hands clung to the duchess's cloak as her tear-streaked face tilted upward, a desperate plea spilling from her lips:
"Please, Your Grace! Help me... I am the duke's sister—don't you recognize me?"
Olivia gazed at the woman intently, as though piecing together a puzzle. Torn garments hinted at better days, their fabric of reasonable quality now marred by time and hardship. Her green eyes, swollen from crying, were clouded with anguish, and bruises marred her skin. The child in her arms, wrapped tightly in thin cloth, breathed softly, fragile against the cold.
Ignoring the onlookers, Olivia knelt beside the woman, her fingers gently brushing the tangled hair from her face. In that moment, a jolt of recognition struck her. The resemblance was undeniable. The contours of her face bore a striking similarity to Mathias, despite the slight difference in hair color.
"What is your name?" Olivia finally asked, her tone calm yet firm.
"L-Lila, Your Grace."
Olivia paused before offering her hand, helping the woman to her feet. With a quiet sigh, she unfastened her own cloak and wrapped it around Lila's trembling frame.
"Very well, Lila. Come with me."
Olivia's steps were steady as she led Lila into the castle, the guards watching in stunned silence. She guided her directly to the guest quarters, seating her on the sofa before summoning her maid, Kira.
"Kira, fetch food for the guest, clean clothes, and prepare a warm bath."
Kira cast a scrutinizing glance at the disheveled visitor but refrained from questioning her mistress's orders.
After some time, Olivia returned to check on her guest. The moment she entered the room, Lila rose hastily, bowing deeply in gratitude.
"There's no need for that, Lady Lila," Olivia said softly. "After all, you are my husband's sister."
"What? You mean—you believe me?"
"Of course, I do."
Overwhelmed, Lila grasped Olivia's hands, her tears falling anew. "Thank you for believing me. I never imagined my brother would marry someone as kind as you."
Kira, standing in the corner, struggled to suppress a chuckle, while Olivia remained solemn. Guilt gnawed at her. In a life she'd left behind, she had been the one to order this woman's expulsion, a decision that led to her tragic demise alongside her child.
Olivia's gaze lingered on Lila before she spoke again. "It seems you share a mark with Mathias—a beauty spot beneath your left eye."
Lila's hand flew to her face in surprise. "Yes, I do."
"It's lovely," Olivia remarked simply.
Blushing, Lila replied shyly, "You're the first to tell me that."
Olivia rose gracefully. "I won't press you for answers tonight, but tomorrow, I'll expect an explanation. Rest well."
Later, as Olivia lay in her chamber, sleep eluded her. Memories of her past life loomed like shadows, the weight of her sins pressing down. She recalled the letter that informed her of Lila's tragic end—a letter she once dismissed without thought. But this time, she resolved to rewrite their story.
In the early morning, the silence that enveloped the Loucron Palace was shattered by the voice of an enraged man, booming through the halls like thunder as he shouted:
"Where is that whore?! Bring her to me now! Or I will smash everything here!"
The servants were in a state of confusion, trying in vain to calm him. One of them attempted to intervene, saying:
"My lord, please... lower your voice. You'll wake the Duchess with your shouting!"
But the shouting did not cease. Moments later, Olivia, with her usual commanding presence, descended the stairs with steady steps, draped in a luxurious gown that declared her authority. She looked at the man coldly and whispered to her accompanying maid:
"Kira, summon the Knights of Loucron immediately. Tell them it's an order from the Duchess. And take this ring as proof."
Kira nodded and hurried away, while Olivia continued her descent. She stopped in front of the man, who appeared to be in his early forties, regarding him with disdain before speaking in a firm tone:
"What do you think you're doing, shouting so early in the morning at the Loucron Duchy? Who are you, and what is your name?"
The man stood stiff for a moment, as if her words had stopped him in his tracks, before responding angrily:
"Baron David, Your Grace."
Olivia raised an eyebrow with subtle sarcasm, then replied:
"Baron David, then. And what brings you here, screaming and causing a ruckus?"
His voice grew sharper, filled with fury:
"I want my wife and daughter. I know they're here! Bring them to me immediately!"
"Your wife? And who is your wife?"
His anger escalated as he shouted hoarsely:
"Layla Camille! I know she's here! Bring her now, or I swear I'll file a complaint with the Emperor that the Loucron Duchy is holding my wife and daughter hostage!"
Olivia smiled cynically and replied in a cold, lethal tone:
"Should I consider that a threat?"
Baron David completely lost his composure, lunging at her, grabbing the collar of her silk gown, bringing his face close to hers and shouting:
"I told you, you whore, hand over my daughter and wife!"
The servants stood frozen, watching the scene in stunned silence. But Olivia, despite the violence, made a subtle gesture, signaling them not to intervene. At that moment, hurried steps echoed on the stairs. It was Layla, terrified by the commotion, rushing toward them, crying out:
"Please! Don't hurt the Duchess! I'll come with you, just leave her be!"
Olivia turned to her with a sharp reproachful glance, as if silently asking: "Why did you come down?" But Layla paid no mind.
When David saw Layla, he shoved Olivia aside and moved toward her quickly. He raised his hand suddenly and slapped her hard, sending her crashing to the floor. Layla screamed in pain, clutching her slapped cheeks, while the baron shouted angrily:
"I told you I would find you even if the earth swallowed you! You treacherous whore! You'll pay for your betrayal and for having a child that isn't mine!"
A heavy silence fell over the hall for a moment, before everyone's eyes widened in shock, and all gazes turned to Layla in astonishment and curiosity. It seemed the servants began to wonder who this woman was, why the Duchess was protecting her, and how she had entered the palace.
But Olivia, feeling her anger rise like a volcano within her, stepped toward David and grabbed his shoulder with force. She spun him to face her, then slapped him so hard that his voice was immediately silenced.
"You scoundrel, how dare you raise your hand to a woman?! How dare you?"
David recoiled for a moment, but then, in a burst of fury, lunged at her again, grabbing her throat in an attempt to strangle her. The servants stood frozen in fear, but none dared intervene, for Olivia had previously instructed them to stay away.
Meanwhile, Kira had reached the Knights of Loucron, delivering the order from the Duchess. Though some hesitated to respond immediately due to their strained relationship with Olivia, her firm command urged them into action, and they raced toward the palace.
When they arrived, they were shocked to see their mistress being choked by a strange man. They immediately rushed forward, seized him with strength, and pulled him away from her, beginning to strike him.
The captain of the knights knelt before Olivia, his tone apologetic:
"We apologize for the delay, Your Grace. We didn't realize the situation was this dire."
Olivia took a deep breath, regaining her composure, then said, brushing her hair aside:
"It's fine. The important thing is that you've arrived. Now, take this man out of my sight. But do not harm him further. He's a nobleman, and the last thing I want is trouble with the Emperor."
The captain nodded and ordered his men to remove Baron David. However, he did not leave without resistance, shouting and cursing, threatening revenge:
"I'll have my vengeance! You and Layla will pay dearly!"
Once the atmosphere calmed, Olivia approached Layla, who was sitting on the floor, tears gleaming in her eyes. She extended her hand and helped her to her feet. Then, in a calm yet firm tone, she said:
"I think you have much to explain to me, Lady Layla. Let's start with the first question: who are you, really?"
This translation preserves the literary style, adding depth and emotion to the events, and maintains the tension between the characters.