To My First Love, With Regret (Libenia) Chapter 40

Her father, who couldn’t even speak, couldn’t consent to marriage with this insignificant woman he saw only as a plaything. They forged his consent, married, pretended Chantal was pregnant, and then stole Eve’s child—passing him off as her father’s.

That was why Chantal had been so intrusively interested in Eve’s pregnancy all along. Her gratitude to Eve for the boy—her joy that he resembled Eve, the Kentrell blood—it all made sense now.

You planned from the very beginning to use my child to seize the dukedom. You played this whole act to worm your way into my trust.

“We’re not helping you for a few coins.”

Yes—whatever price I paid, compared to the Kentrell fortune, it was just “a few coins.”

A poor foreign nurse who didn’t know Mercian laws and customs couldn’t have pulled off this whole scheme alone. It was obvious that everything had been orchestrated under the guidance of the lawyer Callas—and the doctor was in on it too.

“You… are swindlers.”

Eve glared at Chantal and Dr. Callas with bloodshot eyes. The doctor couldn’t meet her gaze and lowered his head. Chantal, without blinking, nodded to the butler and servants to leave.

The butler immediately obeyed the woman who had recently been a servant just like him. Eve couldn’t calmly watch this absurd reality.

“I won’t let you take my family like this.”

“And what will you do? Report it? What will you say?”

Chantal shed her angel mask—and beneath it appeared the true face of a devil.

“You’re not going to tell the whole world that this child is the bastard of a Kentrell maiden and a criminal, are you? Or do you want to end yourself and this poor infant’s life?”

Eve had entrusted Chantal with her most terrible secret. Because she was the “savior”—the only one who had stayed by her side in her hour of despair.

The secret turned into weakness and cornered Eve. Only then did she see the ugliest greed hiding behind the innocent face of her savior. And also—her own naive stupidity.

She had always been sick of her own powerlessness, but Eve was still weak. The only way to gain power had now been stolen too. This time, she had allowed not only herself to be used—but her child.

If cunning is a sin, then stupidity is also a sin. The devil spoke with his cunning tongue to Eve—trembling with hatred not only for Chantal but for herself.

“Eve, don’t be like that. Think clearly and wisely. If you cooperate, it will be good for you too, won’t it? You’ll get revenge on that old man too.”

That ringing, affected laugh was disgusting.

“And it will be better for this child. Eve, don’t you feel sorry for this poor little thing? Wouldn’t he prefer to become the next duke rather than the son of some worthless little doctor?”

She spoke so silkily, as if trying to make her feel guilty—and then, deliberately looking around at the empty space, whispered into Eve’s ear as she clenched her teeth:

“You wanted this child from the beginning to make him a duke. Everything has gone according to Eve’s plan. We’ve fulfilled your dream.”

Now she’s trying to make me an accomplice too.

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you continue living here.”

Eve now knew that behind Chantal’s kindness, there was a price. She’s trying to keep me because I still have “useful value.”

“I don’t intend to be your slave.”

But Eve’s life had never gone the way she thought.

The lady whose place as mistress of the cage had been taken was once again a bird—and found herself locked up.

---

“Du-u-uke.”

The door opened, and a coquettish voice rang out. The duke’s jaw trembled.

Chantal Garnier. The fact that this bitch had acted like a brainless donkey had all been an act. Because of this sly fox and the colluding Callas, his dukedom had been brazenly stolen in broad daylight. In his condition, all he could do was grind his teeth.

“Long time no see. Did you miss me?”

Like hell. She had disappeared for a long time, and he’d thought that while playing duchess, she’d run into robbers and gone to hell. But this death-deserving thief had returned safe and sound.

“Duke, look at this child.”

With a newborn in her arms.

“This is your son, who will continue your line.”

The duke stared wide-eyed at the brazen swindler with a murderous glare.

“Can you tell whose son he is?”

Of course—whose filthy seed? Some nobody’s. This cunning bitch had walked around with a fake belly for a while.

She’ll give birth to another man’s child and pass it off as mine. This noble Kentrell line will become a gathering of some kind of vermin.

The premonition of disaster had become reality, and his eyes turned bloodshot from the rage boiling inside him.

“Arrrgh!”

It was humiliating that all he could do was howl like an animal. He opened his mouth—which he had kept shut until now—and spat out a curse.

When this brat grows up, everyone will see he’s not a Sherwood!

“This is Lady Evelyn’s son—Ethan Fairchild’s child.”

But the child was of Sherwood blood. After all, Eve had defiled the family with the blood of her brother’s killer.

How… how dare she…

The duke’s entire body shook uncontrollably with rage.

The ducal title would go to the spawn of his son’s killer.

He ground his teeth. It was the sound of a duke’s pride breaking under the strain.

“He’s quite cute, isn’t he? If he were mine, he’d be even cuter—but even so, I like him very much.”

The devil, smirking mockingly, shoved this seed of evil—which he wanted to destroy—in his face.

“To be honest, I can’t stand anything ugly. So when Mr. Callas told me to sleep with you, Duke, and give birth to a son, I was so disgusted I cried. Isn’t it a blessing, really? I prayed that Lady would give me a son and save me—and God listened.”

Chantal, looking lovingly at the “perfect” son and rocking him, suddenly shuddered. She had thought the duke, continuing to howl like a beast, was full of strength—but his face had swollen and turned purple as if about to burst.

We can’t let him have another hemorrhage.

“Oh my, calm down. The head of the family still needs to live a little longer.”

Even half a corpse, a duke was still a duke. His life might still come in handy. In case the child died young.

It would be good if Lady saved me again then.

If I pray earnestly, maybe the God who cares so much about her will listen again?

“I cannot give the ducal title to the spawn of my son’s killer.”

What use were these vows when he was a living corpse? All he could do was get angry.

He wasn’t in any condition to prevent the tragedy—his exile to a rural nursing home, whose location he didn’t even know.

The duke was locked up twice—in his own body and in a hospital room. It was a solitary cell that no one visited.

He had never known loneliness in his life. At the duke’s table, there were always crowds of people ready to burst into laughter at his jokes. The threshold of his home had been worn down by the feet of guests coming day and night.

But an empty title was temporary. No one visited a sick man who had lost power.

Only Eve visited him from time to time.

She wasn’t interested in her father’s condition. This traitor was obsessed only with thoughts of revenge.

“You tried so hard to throw Ethan out, afraid I would take the dukedom from you. And then your trusted slaves took it from you right away.

“Harry was such an idiot that he couldn’t get into university without throwing money at it—did he take after you, by any chance?”

She accused him with the most painful words, mocked his situation, and enjoyed watching her father tremble with rage. All while smoking vulgarly.

“By the way, why are you still alive? You’re useless now.”

Then why doesn’t she kill me?

The reason she didn’t kill him was obvious. Every time she came, Eve brought a new reason for him to lose sleep over his resentment.

“Robert Callas is embezzling your fortune. Thanks to that idiotic power of attorney you signed. Father, either you have no eyes, or you only surround yourself with the same kind of human garbage as yourself.”

She’s keeping me alive to take out her anger on me.

I’m living to suffer.

By this point, death seemed like the only blessing. So he wouldn’t have to watch his beloved family crumble in someone else’s hands. Just the thought that if this seed of evil—which they said was weak—suddenly died, he would have to watch them drain his precious seed—made his blood boil.

But he was in such a body that he couldn’t even kill himself. Then, on a day during the fourth year he had spent vainly praying for the coming of Death—she appeared.

“Duke, do you remember me?”

Death answered his prayer.

In the form of Ethan Fairchild.