The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 39

“I…”

 

“You’re smart, aren’t you? Tell me what we need to do to avenge Oliver.”

 

“I’m sorry, Olivier, but it’s not that simple. We can’t make Oliver’s wrongful death known to the world with just a diary. Before that, you and your husband will be in danger.”

 

“So you’re saying we should just stay put? Do nothing? Even though we know my brother was unjustly murdered?” Tears streamed down her bloodshot eyes.

 

Overwhelmed by the palpable anger and despair, Shailoh took a deep breath. Facing the desperate Olivier, her mind raced, calculating various possibilities like imagining an opponent’s moves in chess. Finally, Shailoh spoke heavily. “Though we can’t fully avenge him, we can strike back a little.”

 

“Strike back…?”

 

“Olivier.” With a determined look, Shailoh instructed. “We’re going to send two letters to Barony Elton. Bring some stationery and write exactly as I say.”

 

* * *

The elegant carriage came to a halt in front of a secluded, quiet inn, the kind that might see a rat or two scurry by. A lady alighted, paying the coachman, and had her maid hold up the hem of her cloak to avoid any dust. As she opened the inn door, the innkeeper, who had been lazily swatting at flies, stood up to greet the guest. Before he could say a word, he noticed her refined appearance and courteously led her upstairs.

 

“We’ve been expecting you. Your companion is waiting in the innermost room.”

 

The lady nodded slightly in response and ascended the worn wooden stairs. Her maid, carefully holding the end of her cloak, followed and whispered quietly.

 

“Madam… is that woman really here?”

 

“She had the audacity to summon me, even threatening me with what she knows.”

 

The lady laughed incredulously and boldly entered the innermost room to which she was directed. Though it was still sunset outside, the room was dark with all the curtains drawn. With her arms crossed coldly, the lady approached the woman with her back turned. As she got closer, a damnable rose scent wafted through the air. The lady grabbed the woman’s shoulders and turned her around.

 

“Elza. You have some nerve summoning me… You—” Recognizing the person who turned around, Claire blinked in surprise.

 

“Hello, Baroness Elton.”

 

“Baroness… Boris?” The unexpected identity of the blackmailer made Claire shake her head. “This can’t be. You were my husband’s mistress?”

 

“Is that why you’re surprised? I was hoping it was for another reason.”

 

“What?”

 

Olivier took out a match from her pocket and lit the wick of a candle on the nearly collapsed table. As the room brightened a bit, she pushed forward the torn pieces of a diary on the table.

 

“You’re a con artist and a deceitful hypocrite, Claire Elton.”

 

Con artist. Hypocrite. The accusation was blatant and direct, piercing Claire’s heart with just a single word. Unconsciously, Claire took a step back, but then she quickly regained her composure and raised her eyebrows.

 

“What?”

 

“Are you going to deny it?”

 

With cold eyes, Olivier thrust something towards Claire. It was a torn piece of paper. As she examined it closely, Ines, standing beside her, gasped.

 

“I-It’s Elza’s handwriting!”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Elza’s diary should have been dealt with.”

 

Claire’s heart sank. Olivier slowly approached her, who was now frozen in place.

 

“You must know about my brother, Oliver, who worked at your family home. That’s why you avoided me in society, because it made you uneasy.”

 

Claire swallowed dryly. She didn’t need to see it to know it must be about Oliver’s death.

 

“You condoned and ignored murder. You had several chances to tell me, but you never did.”

 

“W-What are you rambling about with that scrap of paper?” Such a record couldn’t serve as credible evidence in court. Regaining her senses, Claire brazenly retorted. “So, you summoned me here over a piece of a dismissed maid’s diary? How dare you, to me?”

 

Olivier flinched at Claire’s boldness.

 

Seizing the opportunity, Claire continued. “I fired that wrench myself. I don’t know what slander she wrote about me, but none of it is true. That’s how lowly people are.”

 

“And why did you fire her?”

 

“She was fawning over my husband like a bitch in heat. Just like you did with Baron Boris. Lowborn sluts will do anything to change their fate at the first chance. Wasn’t your brother trying to worm his way into some rich madam’s bed too?”

 

“Watch your mouth.” Olivier clenched her fist, her voice low with warning.

 

“Am I wrong?” Thinking she had the upper hand, Claire smiled.

 

Then it happened.

 

“Pitiful.”

 

“…What?” Claire couldn’t believe her ears. She asked again, thinking she had misheard, but it seemed she had heard correctly.

 

Olivier shook her head, her eyes filled with genuine pity. “With your family, honor, beauty, and a loving husband, what could you possibly lack to feel inferior to someone like me?”

 

“What nonsense are you spouting…?”

 

“I heard you were taken in by gypsies. Did you do something unspeakable there…?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Claire, her vision turning red, lunged at Olivier. Anticipating the attack, Olivier deftly dodged, but Claire managed to snatch the diary fragment from her hand. She tore it to shreds and retorted fiercely.

 

“Unspeakable acts? Never! I don’t know what you’ve heard, but if you spread such baseless rumors…”

 

“Since you’re not denying the gypsy part, it must be true that they saved and took you in.”

 

She had fallen into a trap. Claire needed to leave immediately. Deciding to ignore it, she turned around. She couldn’t stay here any longer.

 

“What are you doing? Open the door. I don’t want to be in this wretched place for another second.”

 

“Oh. Ah… Yes!” Ines, momentarily stunned by the sharp command, grabbed the doorknob and turned it. But it wouldn’t open. Panicked, Ines whipped her head around.

 

“What is the meaning of this? Do you think you’ll get away with this?”

 

“So you hurt Oliver and the gypsies just like that? Even those gypsies who saved you and treated you like family?”

 

“Shut up. Don’t talk nonsense. You’re free to delude yourself, but if you say any more—”

 

“If you want to leave, speak honestly. It’s just us here, after all.” Olivier cut off Claire’s cold warning and, as if to prove her point, picked up a candle from the table and waved it around. It was true. There was no one else there.

 

Claire’s eyes wavered. Was this really a trap?

 

“I just want to know the truth. My brother doesn’t even have a grave. I want to hold a funeral and give peace to his soul. That’s all. I’m not bold enough to seek revenge on you, nor am I foolish enough to make an enemy of the Diponz family.” Olivier, who had been pressing her moments ago, slowly knelt down, lowering her eyes. “Tell me where Oliver is buried. My poor brother, used and murdered by your family… Let me at least recover his body.” The anger in her eyes was replaced by sorrow. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “If you tell me, I’ll even lick your shoes…”

 

A heavy silence followed. It was such a desperate plea that even Ines, who was watching, felt her heart stir. Just as Ines glanced at Claire, wondering if her feelings might change, a cold laugh broke the silence.

 

“Puhaha… Have you gone mad?” Claire, believing she had gained the upper hand, threw off her last mask. She clutched her stomach and laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes with her index finger. “Are you in your right mind? Why would I? What benefit would I gain from helping someone like you?”

 

“Claire…!” With a face twisted in anguish, Olivier approached and grabbed the hem of Claire’s dress.

 

Claire shook off her touch as if brushing away an insect and unfurled her fan with a flourish. “You look most fitting like this, Baroness Boris. People should live according to their birthright.”

 

“…”

 

“Summoning someone under false pretenses and slandering them with baseless accusations—expect repercussions.” Claire turned briskly and looked at Ines. “Ines. Kick the door. This old thing should open with that.”

 

“Pardon? But what if it doesn’t?”

 

“Then scream! Call for the guards! Do I have to do everything myself?”

 

Nodding, Ines prepared to carry out her order.

 

Just then, another dagger-like remark struck Claire.