The Reason Why the Forsaken Fake Returned Chapter 49

“No. It’s actually quite likely they know. If Olivier said anything.”

 

“They’re not that kind of person.”

 

“I know. But still.”

 

Caleb’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her that everyone looks out for their own interests. If she’d been threatened before her death, wouldn’t she have confessed her identity? Or perhaps, in a desperate bid for survival, she begged for her life? Thinking of Olivier still made her chest ache, but this was a separate matter.

 

Caleb had never once said anything wrong to her. Without realizing it, Shailoh started biting her nails, when suddenly, a commotion erupted outside.

 

“Let go of me right now!”

 

“You bastard!”

 

“Miss!”

 

The caretaker’s wife burst into the parlor without even knocking.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Well—”

 

Just as the caretaker’s wife tried to explain in a flustered voice, her husband appeared behind her, dragging a man who was tied up. “We caught a suspicious man lurking around!”

 

Were they sent by the Diponz family? Was it not enough that they knew her identity? Had they even tracked her all the way here? Her heart dropped at the worst possible scenario.

 

Shailoh shot up from her seat and hurried over to the intruder. The moment the man lifted his head, her eyes widened in shock.

 

“You’re…”

 

“It’s been a while, Miss Griche!”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

The suspicious intruder was none other than Wyson, the playwright whose script she had rejected before.

 

“Have you been following me?” Stunned by the unexpected revelation, Shailoh froze and pressed him for answers. “Who’s behind you?”

 

“No one!” Wyson, looking horrified at the possibility of a misunderstanding, frantically waved his hands. “It was an honor that Lady Perus liked my play and invited me to her engagement ceremony. And by chance, I saw you slipping out of the palace in a hurry. I lost track of you at the time, but I was curious where you were headed, so I followed your trail and ended up here…”

 

Now that he’d been caught, there was no way she could just let him go. Shailoh let out a heavy sigh and exchanged glances with Doris. “There’s no helping it. We’ll have to keep you here for a while.”

 

* * *

Though she called it confinement, Wyson was treated more like a guest. Since he didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives, all they did was assign someone to keep an eye on him. Still, Shailoh didn’t let down her guard.

 

“What do you know about me?”

 

“Only what’s common knowledge, I swear. That’s really all. Of course, I did think that if I learned more about you, I might finally understand why you rejected my play…”

 

What would happen if Caleb found out about this man? Shailoh looked at Wyson with a complicated expression. If things went well, he’d just be locked up for a few days, but if not…

 

“For now, just pretend you’re dead. I’ll let you go when the time is right. And no matter what, don’t breathe a word about me being here.”

 

Wyson was just someone who’d gotten unlucky and stumbled into this mess. She didn’t want to see an innocent person get hurt. Wyson wasn’t the type to harm anyone, but he could still cause trouble.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but alright…”

 

She thought he’d demand to know when he’d be released, but to her surprise, he was rather calm. Shailoh, who had just finished flipping through the scripts and idea notebooks in Wyson’s bag, rose from her chair. Wyson suddenly jumped as if she’d stepped on something.

 

“Hey! That’s important. Please get your foot off it.”

 

“Ah, sorry.” Shailoh, handing over the paper she’d stepped on without realizing, suddenly froze. “This woman…”

 

The item Wyson carefully brushed the dust from, as if it were precious, was none other than a small portrait.

 

“It’s that singer I mentioned before—Rozena. I thought she looked a bit like you.”

 

“Details!”

 

“Huh?”

 

Her hands trembled. Startled by her sudden reaction, Wyson hesitated, and Shailoh forced herself to speak. “Tell me everything you remember. In detail.”

 

The woman in the portrait was unmistakably her late mother.

 

Wyson was briefly taken aback by Shailoh’s desperate, clinging demeanor, but soon began to recount the old story. “The first time I saw her was when I was still unknown. I dreamed of becoming a famous playwright, but nothing was working out. I was young and reckless, pushing my scripts everywhere and getting rejected over and over. I drowned my frustration and sense of defeat in alcohol. Then, one day, I wandered into a small shop by chance, and that’s where I met her.”

 

Wyson’s eyes, lost in the past, grew distant and wistful, as if he were gazing back at days he longed for.

 

“The moment I heard her sing a single verse, it felt as if I was standing before a living goddess. My ears were opened, and the darkness before my eyes suddenly lifted… As soon as her performance ended, I went straight to find her. When I asked her name, she said it was Rozena. I was sure it was a stage name, but I didn’t press further. She seemed wary of me.”

 

Shailoh bit her lips, trying to hide her expression. Her mother’s voice was still vivid in her mind. She owed her debut as a singer to the talent her mother had passed down, but ironically, it was also her mother who made her lack confidence as a singer. No matter how hard she tried, she could never match the natural tone her mother was born with.

 

“I wasn’t the only one who recognized her talent. She was on the verge of success. But then, one day, she vanished—just like that, as if it were all a lie. The owner of the shop where she worked said she’d become the mistress of a wealthy man. Apparently, there was an older gentleman who used to visit her.”

 

Father. The mention of someone she had forgotten in her daily life made her hands tremble. He was the one her mother had only managed to speak of at the very end.

 

“I tried to track her down, but in the end, I never found out what happened to her. Even now, all I’ve heard are rumors. Someone once claimed to have seen her begging on the street with a little girl.”

 

Shailoh bowed her head. Sensing something was wrong, Wyson glanced at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. Her throat tightened, and her lips quivered.

 

“When I first heard Miss Griche sing, it felt like a bolt of lightning struck me right on the head. That’s why I’m so obsessed with her.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. Shailoh sprang to her feet before anyone could see her crying. “Thank you for telling me your story. Please get some rest.”

 

“No, thank you. I appreciate you listening. You’re only the second person who’s ever listened to this kind of story seriously.”

 

“The second?”

 

“Yes. There was someone who asked me in detail if anyone else had been paying attention to Rozena. A bit young for that sort of thing, though.”

 

For a moment, her eyes widened at the thought that it might be her real father, but her shoulders quickly slumped. “I see.”

 

“Probably just a fan. Rozena disappeared just as her talent was starting to blossom. I’m sure there were a few people who regretted that.”

 

Shailoh nodded quietly. If her mother hadn’t met her father and gotten pregnant, what would her mother be like now? Maybe she would never have given up singing. She wouldn’t have spent her days begging on the street, and she probably wouldn’t have died from illness. Imagining her mother healthy and beautiful, instead of sick and gaunt, made Shailoh’s chest tighten and her eyes burn.

 

“If you don’t mind, could you tell me more about her tomorrow?”

 

“About Rozena? Why do you ask?” Wyson sounded surprised.

 

Shailoh hesitated for a moment, then smiled gently. “I’ll tell you, on the condition that you don’t tell anyone else.”

 

Wyson tilted his head in puzzlement at her strange words, but then nodded.

 

Shailoh, her fingers interlaced, confessed. “The truth is, I’m her daughter.”

 

“What?” Wyson jumped to his feet in shock, his eyes bulging as he stammered, “W-What did you just say…?”

 

“It’s just as I said. The little girl she used to bring with her. That was me.”

 

Shailoh could have made up an excuse, said she was just curious. But she didn’t want to lie to the only person who had ever told her about her late mother. Another reason was that she felt a strange sense of trust toward him.

 

“I see… So that’s how it was…” Wyson, still unable to believe it, covered his mouth with one hand, then looked at her with a resolute expression. “Of course. I’ll keep it a secret, I promise. Thank you for telling me, Miss Griche.”

 

“Thank you. Well then…”

 

They had talked for too long. Sensing how much time had passed, Shailoh stood up. She gave him a nod, then reached for the doorknob to leave. Just then, a cautious question stopped her in her tracks.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your relationship with Baron Cal? I heard he’s your patron.”