Leila sat quietly, her voice steady yet infused with sorrow, as though she were trying to breathe life into a reel of memories drenched in pain and sacrifice. "I knocked on countless doors, but no one ever answered. Each time, I faced rejection. But how were my mother and I supposed to survive? I was left with only one choice… marriage."
Yet, those who proposed were few and far between. For a young woman weighed down by a troubled past and a broken family, hope was a rare commodity. She had no option but to consider one of them. Among the suitors, Baron David stood out—relentless in his pursuit, tirelessly offering his hand in marriage. But she refused him time and again.
One day, during those trying times, as she returned from the market, she crossed paths with Kyle. It wasn't their first encounter, but this meeting felt different. They sat down to talk, and he began asking about her well-being, about the pallor of her face that betrayed the depth of her suffering. Unable to contain herself, she opened up, sharing her story in a bid to find even a shred of solace.
Half in jest and half in despair, she posed a question that startled even her:
"Mr. Kyle, what do you think about marrying me?"
His eyes widened in surprise, but his reply came with surprising ease:
"Sure, why not? But I don't believe in fake marriages."
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Are you serious? You'd marry me just because I asked?"
He smiled, a quiet confidence radiating from him.
"I don't see a problem with that. After all, you saved my life once."
His words carried an inexplicable sincerity. For a moment, she studied him. His striking looks and gentlemanly demeanor gave her pause, and she found herself surrendering to an improbable idea.
"Then, when do we start?"
Without hesitation, he replied:
"Now. We can head to the civil registry office."
And so, far sooner than she ever anticipated, Leila became Kyle's wife. It was far from a conventional marriage, lacking in romance, yet it opened a door she thought forever closed. With his support, she secured a position at the hospital, overcoming the objections of a manager who had repeatedly turned her away.
Kyle stayed with her for a month before duty called him back to the capital. He promised to return, though she had no way of knowing how long his absence would last.
But fortune was not on her side. After Kyle's departure, Baron David's obsession spiraled into madness. Consumed by his desire, he abducted her and imprisoned her in his mansion, reducing her to a captive within its walls. She endured psychological and physical abuse at his hands. What the baron didn't know, however, was that Leila was a doctor. Drawing on her medical knowledge, she used herbs to prepare concoctions that induced vivid hallucinations, making him believe he had been intimate with her, though he had never laid a hand on her.
In those dark days, Leila discovered she was carrying a child. When her daughter was born, Baron David examined the infant's delicate features and hesitated, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Yet it wasn't mere doubt—he knew. The child wasn't his. She was an unmistakable reflection of Kyle. Fury consumed him, and his wrath turned into unrelenting torment.
Leila saw no other path but escape. On a moonless night, she mustered every ounce of courage, cradled her newborn daughter, and fled the baron's mansion. Her journey brought her to Olivia's estate, where she poured out her story in painstaking detail.
When her tale concluded, silence filled the room. Olivia's gaze remained fixed on her, astonishment etched across her face.
"You said the baron abused you. The bruises on your face… are there more?"
Leila held her steady gaze and replied firmly, "Do you want to see for yourself?"
Without waiting for an answer, she loosened the ties of her gown and stood before Olivia in her undergarments. A sharp gasp escaped Olivia's lips as her eyes swept over the bruises marring Leila's skin, the marks speaking louder than words ever could. For a moment, Olivia was paralyzed, as though her voice had been stolen.
After a pause, Leila calmly adjusted her dress and said, "I shared my story because you saved me. I didn't want to burden you or impose, but I needed you to understand that I didn't intrude on your life when I came to your estate."
Olivia's voice softened, her tone filled with sincerity. "I never thought that of you. You are my husband's sister, even if not in title."
"Thank you for understanding. But the baron won't stop. If you want me to leave, I will."
Olivia's expression remained composed as she responded, "I've already said I don't mind your presence here, but the final decision lies with the duke, not me. Forgive me, I must go now. By the way… may I see your daughter?"
Leila smiled faintly, as though trying to discern Olivia's intent. "Of course. Please, come closer. You can even hold her."
But Olivia stepped back, raising a hand in polite refusal. "No, thank you. Just seeing her will suffice."
She approached the child, her eyes scanning the infant's features. Then, as if struck by lightning, she froze. Her face paled, and she took an involuntary step back, her voice a hushed whisper tinged with shock.
"Is this some sort of joke?"
Leila blinked, confused. Olivia's astonishment was unmistakable.
"She… she looks like me," Olivia finally managed, her voice unsteady.
Leila nodded slightly, confirming, "Yes, she does. Remarkably so."
Olivia stared at the child's face once more before lifting her gaze to Leila. Her voice, now edged with disbelief and faint sarcasm, carried a sharp question.
"What is this? Are you trying to pull one of your mother's tricks on me?"
Leila's expression turned to one of earnestness and unease. "Your Grace, I mean no harm. I noticed the resemblance before, but now… now I see she is your exact likeness. It's astonishing."
A strange unease stirred in Olivia's chest. Narrowing her eyes, she reached for a small pendant hanging from the infant's neck. She studied it for a moment before asking with deliberate calm, "Where did this necklace come from?"
Leila's voice trembled slightly with emotion. "It's my husband's. He asked me to keep it safe until he returned."
For a moment, Olivia froze. Then, with a careful motion, she let the pendant fall back onto the child's chest. Her expression became unreadable. "Your husband's necklace? That's… good."
Leila's brow furrowed with concern. "Is there something wrong?"
"No," Olivia answered swiftly, moving toward the door. "Nothing at all. I must leave now."
The door closed behind her, and Olivia released a heavy sigh, her hand flying to her forehead. Her whispered words carried the weight of her turmoil.
"What did I just hear? This… can't be."
She hurried to her jewelry cabinet, her hands trembling as she rifled through its contents. From the back of a drawer, she retrieved an identical necklace. Holding it tightly, she examined it for what felt like an eternity before whispering,
"This isn't possible… Could it really be him?"
Her thoughts racing, she spun toward her maid, Kira, who stood nearby.
"Kira, bring me paper and a pen immediately."
"At once, my lady," Kira replied, returning moments later with the requested items.
Seated at her desk, Olivia began writing, her hand swift yet unsteady. When she finished, she sealed the letter and handed it to Kira with firm instructions.
"Ensure this reaches the crown prince today. No delays. Also… inform me the moment Isabella returns from her visit to her parents."
"As you command, Your Grace."
Once alone, Olivia leaned against her desk, her head in her hands. Her whispered plea was barely audible.
"I only wanted to set things right… but it seems I've walked into an even greater disaster. God help me."