The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 20

Happy times flowed past like water over smooth stones. Winter’s harsh grip loosened, giving way to spring’s gentle touch, and the frost began its slow retreat. The thin sheet of ice that had claimed the park’s lake grew more fragile with each passing day, while people emerged from their winter cocoons, donning lighter clothing and venturing forth for leisurely strolls.

 

On this particular afternoon, a gentleman settled onto a weathered bench, snapping open his newspaper with practiced ease. His companion, drawing thoughtfully on a long-stemmed pipe, broke the comfortable silence between them.

 

“I heard you attended Sasha Griche’s performance recently. How was it?”

 

The familiar name struck Shailoh like a bell, and she straightened on her own bench nearby, her attention sharpening.

 

“Exceptional,” came the reply. “The staging, the songs, the choreography—all flawless.”

 

“Truly? What a pity I didn’t secure tickets. A singer of such caliber surely has a patron. Any idea who it might be?”

 

“Beats me. Three months now, and still no word.”

 

“Lucky devil, whoever he is, to be associated with such a woman.”

 

“Indeed. Must cost him dearly.”

 

“Oh, certainly more than pocket change.”

 

Shailoh nearly fumbled her ice cream, her fingers suddenly unsteady. A patron? Associated with her? More than pocket change? The ugly implications twisted in her stomach like spoiled milk.

 

She knew the unspoken rules that governed this world—the whispered assumptions about opera singers, regardless of gender. Everyone believed they all had patrons, and everyone knew what services such arrangements typically required in return. But it wasn’t true—not in her case. She and Caleb were different. The words of protest rose to her lips, but the conversation continued, freezing her in place.

 

“Speaking of news, have you heard the latest? They say the queen has finally set an engagement date for Prince Albert and Lady Perus.”

 

“Oh, come now. How many times have we heard such rumors? They’ve come to nothing before—why should this be different?”

 

“No, this time is real. The bride is supposedly Duke Perus’s only niece.”

 

“What? Then what becomes of the succession? Isn’t the second prince, prince of the west, currently the heir?”

 

“Who can say? Does anyone even know what the man looks like? He’s been abroad so long, recuperating from that mysterious illness…”

 

“Milady!”

 

The cheerful interruption cut through their subdued conversation. Shailoh, perched at the bench’s edge beneath her wide-brimmed hat, looked up from her ice cream.

 

“Did you find the flavor you wanted to try?”

 

“Yes, I’ve been so curious about it. Thank you!”

 

“Think nothing of it. Just mind you don’t drop it this time.”

 

“Of course not! But what about you, Milady…?”

 

“Don’t trouble yourself about me.”

 

Doris nodded and extended her hand. Shailoh rose gracefully, removing her hat with a flourish that sent her hair catching the afternoon light. The two gentlemen, so absorbed in their gossip moments before, glanced up—and froze. Their newspapers rustled forgotten in their hands as Shailoh offered them a small nod and a smile. They managed awkward bows in return, their eyes wide with recognition, exchanging meaningful glances as she quickened her pace.

 

“Milady! Why are you walking so quickly?” Doris’s eyes were round with confusion as she hurried to match Shailoh’s suddenly urgent stride. “Didn’t you say we were simply taking a leisurely walk today? No particular plans?”

 

“Forgive me. I need to catch a carriage immediately.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To Caleb…” She caught herself. “I mean to His Highness.”

 

At the firm resolve in her voice, Doris ceased her questions and nodded.

 

Fortune smiled upon them—several carriages waited at the park’s entrance. They climbed into the nearest one, and Shailoh gave the driver their destination with barely contained urgency.

 

The moment their carriage stopped, Shailoh pushed through the front door without ceremony. A maid, startled from her cleaning, recognized her and began to curtsy, but Shailoh had no time for such pleasantries.

 

“Caleb!”

 

“Sasha.”

 

He had cleared his schedule for the day, settling into his favorite armchair with a book, but at her voice, he rose immediately, opening his arms. Shailoh flew into his embrace—a gesture that had become as natural as breathing—pressing her cheek against the solid warmth of his chest before pulling back to meet his eyes.

 

“Have you heard the news? Queen Ingrid has apparently…”

 

“I know. She’s completely won Duke Perus to her cause.”

 

“Caleb.”

 

Worry clouded her features as she searched his face, her heart heavy with concern. Caleb’s expression, however, remained maddeningly calm—as if this earth-shaking development were merely an interesting bit of gossip.

 

“Are you truly unconcerned? If their power grows, won’t your position become more precarious?”

 

“Sasha.”

 

Caleb’s low chuckle sent warmth spiraling through her as his arms encircled her waist, drawing her onto his lap with effortless grace. The familiar scent of bergamot and sandalwood enveloped her—a combination that had become as much a part of him as his gentle touch. When his lips brushed against the sensitive curve of her neck, Shailoh’s breath caught despite herself.

 

Shailoh had grown accustomed to these tender moments between them, yet they never failed to set her pulse racing. Each caress held the promise of something deeper, something that made her heart flutter with both anticipation and uncertainty. But as always, Caleb remained a gentleman, his affection never crossing the invisible boundaries he had set for himself.

 

His nose traced a delicate path along her shoulder as he murmured against her skin, “As I’ve told you before, that particular matter requires no worry from you.”

 

“Truly?” The word escaped as barely more than a whisper.

 

“Indeed. Though circumstances may appear challenging at present, I’m not without my own preparations. And besides…” He paused, his breath warm against her ear.

 

“Besides what?”

 

“Even should fate decree that someone else claim the throne in my stead, perhaps it wouldn’t prove such a terrible outcome after all.”

 

Shailoh twisted in his arms to face him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you saying?”

 

“With proper negotiation, I might find myself living with far greater freedom than I possess now. A formal renunciation of my claim would ensure they’d have no reason to pursue me further.”

 

“Caleb!” The protest burst from her lips before she could contain it.

 

A throne was not some family estate to be casually discarded—it was a sacred trust, a responsibility that men had died to claim. Yet before she could voice her objections, his next words stole the breath from her lungs.

 

“I remember how you trembled when we spoke of my parents’ fate. Could you truly endure such a life—always looking over your shoulder, never knowing who might wish you harm?”

 

“…”

 

“What meaning would a crown hold if I wore it alone?” His chin came to rest upon her shoulder, his lips finding that tender spot just below her ear. “Without you beside me, even the greatest victory would taste of defeat.”

 

Her throat constricted as tears threatened to spill. “You would truly abandon such a noble calling… for me?”

 

“Not solely for you,” he admitted with characteristic honesty, “but you hold the most cherished place among my reasons.”

 

“Caleb…”

 

“I want happiness, Sasha. A quiet life filled with children who bear your smile, peaceful days without the constant threat of assassination—it sounds rather wonderful, doesn’t it? Once your revenge is complete, of course.”

 

Revenge. The word struck her like cold water, jolting her from the warm cocoon of his embrace. How easily she had allowed herself to forget the shadows that still haunted her past, the debts that remained unpaid.

 

“The Diponz family has made no move as yet,” she murmured, slipping from his lap to pace before the fireplace. “They’re occupied with affairs in their territory, but we cannot predict when they might arrive in the capital.”

 

The very silence felt ominous. Those who had shared eight years of her life would surely recognize her by now, regardless of how little attention others paid. Their stillness suggested they were planning something far more dangerous than a simple confrontation.

 

“Perhaps we should act first, before—”

 

“I have something for you.” Caleb rose and moved to the mantelpiece, retrieving an elegant invitation. “The gentleman who served as captain of the Western Security Forces is hosting a gathering tonight. This invitation is addressed to Baron Cal.”

 

Baron Cal—the identity he had assumed for her sake, another sacrifice laid upon the altar of their impossible love.

 

“We may encounter them there. If you feel you’re not prepared—” He began to withdraw the invitation, concern creasing his brow.

 

“No.” Her fingers closed around the parchment with sudden determination, her spine straightening with resolve. “It’s finally beginning. I’ve been ready for this moment far longer than you know.”

 

* * *

The banquet hall buzzed with the animated chatter of the South’s most influential families, all gathered to honor a man whose career had shaped the region’s security for decades. Shailoh had applied her cosmetics with particular care tonight, transforming her features until even she barely recognized the woman in the mirror.

 

“Viscount Greta and his wife have arrived!” The announcer’s voice rang out over the crowd.

 

“Baron Heilo and his niece have arrived!”

 

Each name sent a small jolt through her—some familiar from her childhood, others completely unknown. She kept to the edges of the gathering, seeking refuge among the unfamiliar faces while her eyes constantly swept the room for any sign of danger.

 

Those who approached Baron Cal expressed delighted surprise at finding the celebrated Sasha Griche at his side, their curiosity about the nature of their relationship barely concealed behind polite smiles.

 

As the evening reached its crescendo and wine loosened tongues throughout the hall, Caleb leaned close to murmur in her ear. “Your glass is empty. Allow me to remedy that situation.”

 

“Ah, thank you, Baron.” The formality felt strange on her tongue after their intimate afternoon, but appearances must be maintained.

 

“My pleasure entirely.” His eyes held all the warmth his voice could not express in public before he melted into the crowd, leaving her surrounded by eager socialites.

 

Caleb’s eyes held a warmth that spoke volumes before he melted back into the sea of guests, leaving her momentarily bereft of his steadying presence. A lady who had been observing their exchange snapped her fan open with practiced elegance.

 

“My dear, how utterly enchanting.”

 

“I’m really curious how you two meet.”

 

“Indeed. I’d love to know.”

 

“Ah, that…”

 

It was precisely at that moment—as Shailoh found herself surrounded by eager faces and struggling to maintain her composure while simultaneously scanning the room for their host—that the announcer’s voice cut through the ambient chatter with crystalline clarity.