The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 13

“Since you are the closest to the baroness, we can’t dismiss the possibility.”

 

“No!” Shailoh’s fists clenched as she shot to her feet. “That must not happen! We can’t burden the baroness with such—” Mid-sentence, a piercing realization struck her. “Why did Your Highness come to the lounge at that precise moment? It was as if you knew something would happen.” The shock of last night had clouded her thoughts until now.

 

Caleb, who had listened in silence, finally spoke. “I knew Evan Diponz planned to meet with the Grid merchant guild leader that day.”

 

“What?”

 

“I discovered Duke Diponz and the guild leader exchanged a huge sum of money regarding Claire Diponz’s marriage. The duke’s movements became suspicious after that transaction.”

 

“Was that really something Your Highness would be interested in?”

 

“Shailoh, do you remember what I told you by the lake?”

 

The story of his murdered brother and mother, and his exile abroad to escape his stepmother’s threats. Shailoh’s eyes widened as she waited.

 

“The Three Dukes of Oath must remain neutral in royal succession matters. Yet recently, the Diponz family has been corresponding with the current queen.”

 

“You said you lived abroad.”

 

Shailoh fell silent at his returning smile. Despite her recent ordeals, she was merely a sheltered flower compared to this man, who had been swept up in political storms his entire life.

 

A ten-year-old prince who fled the palace after his mother and brother’s deaths, who grew strong in exile, had placed spies at the palace’s heart. A chill ran down her spine. What she saw was not all there was to this man.

 

Sensing her unintentional wariness, Caleb smiled weakly and reached for her elbow. “Shailoh.”

 

“…”

 

“Sasha.”

 

She hadn’t heard that nickname since her mother’s death. She’d never shared it with anyone at the duke family, only with the man who’d sat beside her at dawn, listening to her story.

 

His hand slid from her elbow to capture hers. Like handling precious crystal, Caleb kissed her palm and whispered. “Since learning the current queen aligned with the Diponz family, I placed someone to watch them. But I never imagined murder would follow. I only intended to catch them in the act.”

 

His long, pale lashes fluttered like peacock feathers. Beneath them, turquoise eyes fixed on her, stealing her breath.

 

“Then an unexpected situation unfolded.”

 

“Exactly. I couldn’t abandon you there. I pretended to negotiate with my aide for appearances.”

 

Shailoh recalled those cold eyes that had studied her like an object. Had that been a performance, conscious of the man beside her? Regardless, he remained her savior. Even now, as danger mounted, he extended a helping hand.

 

“Perhaps this is fate. So I want to help you as much as possible.”

 

“I…”

 

His finger silenced her barely moving lips. “Before you answer, you must know something.”

 

With an unsteady gaze, Shailoh looked at Caleb. His disheveled bangs clung to his forehead with sensual appeal. His eyes, reminiscent of early summer’s lush green, held a mysterious allure.

 

“I’m still building my power. Third Prince Albert, the current queen’s son, constantly eyes the throne, posing an endless threat to me. It’s like walking on thin ice.”

 

“Your Highness…”

 

“Despite everything, I want to help you. Meeting you again feels like destiny.”

 

His tender voice unlocked the secured chambers of Shailoh’s heart. The bond she had treasured and buried in memory’s depths now surrounded her like a warm embrace. She had seen him as flawless and enigmatic, but beneath his noble blood ran the same survival instincts as hers—both had weathered dangerous, uncertain worlds. He was her silent comfort, the one who had returned her mother’s precious keepsake without hesitation.

 

“You saved my life… twice now. I cannot fathom how to repay such a debt.”

 

He was her only refuge at this moment. Though his own position remained precarious, he offered his protection freely. A radiant light seemed to emanate from him, nearly blinding in its intensity.

 

“It is shameless of me to ask, but may I remain at your side and accept your aid for as long as you permit?”

 

Caleb’s voice gentled as he touched her shoulder with trembling fingers. “Of course. And when we’re alone, simply call me Caleb.”

 

In a world where isolation pressed upon her from all sides, where trust had become a foreign concept, he stood as her sole pillar of strength. Shailoh could contain herself no longer—tears spilled forth in torrents. Caleb waited in patient silence until her weeping subsided.

 

When composure returned, Shailoh bowed her head and lifted the rosary from her neck. “I must return this to you now.”

 

“No.” Caleb shook his head, his hands covering hers as she attempted to surrender the precious object. “Your need exceeds mine. Keep it close for a while longer.” His eyes held depths of kindness and contemplation.

 

As Shailoh hesitated, overwhelmed by emotion, Caleb took the rosary with gentle care and placed it around her neck once more. Its familiar weight settled against her skin, bringing unexpected peace.

 

“Sasha.”

 

The moment his fingers left the clasp at her nape, she felt his presence settle upon her shoulder. His warm breath ghosted across her neck, and Shailoh became as still as marble. Her heart thundered louder than during their earlier confrontation with the guards, pulse hammering behind her ears.

 

Caleb rested his head against her shoulder, winding strands of her strawberry-blonde hair around his finger. “If you truly wish to settle your debt to me, would you sing for me later?”

 

“Sing?”

 

“Yes. Your voice possesses rare beauty.”

 

His quiet request held irresistible allure. Entranced, Shailoh nodded her consent.

 

“Thank you, Sasha.” Caleb released a soft sigh of relief, his arms encircling her waist with tender care. “You mentioned your mother was a singer of no renown.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Your voice carries something extraordinary—a gift others lack entirely. Perhaps you could fulfill the dreams that eluded your mother. With a new name and identity as a performer, you might use that fame to clear your reputation and exact revenge upon the Diponz Ducal Family.”

 

Revenge. Shailoh’s eyes widened. The word had never dared cross her thoughts. Like an ant beneath a crushing boot, she had never imagined retaliation possible. “Could it truly be done?”

 

“Without question.” Caleb lifted her chin, turning her to face him as his hands framed her shoulders. “I swear it to you. I shall protect and support you through all trials. Come with me to the capital, Sasha.”

 

Hope flooded through her, rendering speech impossible. She nodded instead, and Caleb drew her into his embrace, stroking her back with soothing motions while smiling in silent satisfaction.

 

Human nature compels us to grasp at flickering hope rather than surrender to distant despair. This woman, destined to become his canary in the gilded cage, proved more astute and perceptive than anticipated—yet at her core remained an innocent country maiden. The timing was perfect to guide her before rational thought could intervene.

 

She was now completely within his grasp.

 

* * *

It was three years later. From dawn’s first light, massive crowds assembled before the prestigious theater. The queue stretched endlessly—men and women of every age and station. Servants stood proxy for their masters, speculators hoped to purchase prime seats for profitable resale, and commoners clutched their hard-earned coins. A boy in the line’s midst blew upon his hands against the morning chill.

 

Before official sales commenced, a barker’s voice rang out to passing pedestrians.

 

“Extra! Extra! The talk of the town! The star of the opera world! Prima donna Sasha Griche makes her debut!”

 

“If you’re late, you’ll find nothing but scalped tickets at thrice the price! Make haste, all you fine gentlemen and ladies lacking private boxes!”

 

Chaos erupted on both flanks of the queue.

 

“Blast it all—open the booth! I’ve stood here since before dawn!”

 

“Back of the line, you cur! I was here first!”

 

“What nonsense do you spout? Did you not witness me exchanging places with my companion moments past?”

 

“Devil take it—trapped at the queue’s bitter end! Will no soul sell me a ticket, scalped or otherwise? Name your price! My mistress demands I secure one—’tis a matter of utmost urgency!”

 

As the ticket booth’s shutters finally swung wide, the serpentine line lurched into sluggish motion. The boy stamped his feet against the bitter cold, awaiting his turn to purchase passage to the evening’s spectacle. A promotional handbill, seized by the merciless wind, tumbled to rest at his frost-numbed feet.