The Crown Princess—marked for extermination by the enemy country—had been killed, and the war that followed had been ravaging the northern part of the country for over a year.
Cliffhaven was located at the southern tip. Thanks to that, except for the disappearance of young men drafted into the army and the introduction of rations, the consequences of war were barely felt.
However, recently, even on this land—the furthest from the battlefields and thus the safest in Mercia—troops had begun to be stationed.
Around Cliffhaven, there was only a land army. So the civilian airport had been converted into an air force base, and the port had been requisitioned to establish a temporary naval base.
On this cliff, an anti-aircraft battery had been installed. As soon as Eve learned this, she immediately ordered bomb shelters to be set up in the garden and the mansion’s basement and conducted evacuation drills.
“Wee-ee-ng! Evacuate immediately to the nearest bomb shelter!”
Tony, thinking it was a war game, now asked every day when the next drill would be. At nine years old, he still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
The installation of an anti-aircraft battery next to the house meant that I could die in an air raid.
Overcome with fear, Eve even contacted an army officer she had known since childhood and questioned him.
“Does this mean Conschtantz’s air force or aircraft carriers can reach the southern coast?”
“I don’t think so. As far as I know, this is just routine troop reinforcement.”
But why install anti-aircraft guns—scarce even on the front lines—where there was no enemy? Even after receiving a direct answer, she couldn’t shake her doubts.
“We’re not planning to go to war with Lavinia as well… are we?”
There are no good neighbors in this world. Mercia had fought with Lavinia too, but it was so long ago that she hadn’t even considered such a possibility.
“Definitely not.”
Hearing Eve’s question, the officer laughed as if it were utterly absurd, so he seemed believable.
Either way, a battery had been placed in a city that had neither an air force nor naval base. That meant housing was needed for the soldiers.
About two weeks ago, the manager of the Hotel Le Mer on the coast had informed her that the hotel had been requisitioned as officers’ barracks. The economy was already in decline, and due to the war, foreign tourists had stopped coming—she was afraid her beloved hotel might not survive. Eve invited the high command of each temporary base and made them an offer.
“The House of Kentrell will provide rooms for the officers.”
The commanders left with gratitude. The officers were supposed to start moving in today. The butler said that since there was such a joyful event in the house, wouldn’t it be better to postpone it at least a day—but was this really a joyful event?
“The staff briefly checked their backgrounds, but so far, there are no suspicious individuals among them.”
“Fortunately.”
Truth be told, she didn’t think the military would send dangerous people to the Duke of Kentrell’s mansion. Either way, criminals were screened out during the officer selection process.
“Would you like to review the officer list personally?”
Eve, rising from her vanity, shook her head. Even if she looked, there wouldn’t be any familiar names. And she only knew a few officers—all from the land army.
“I trust you.”
Even if she disliked any of the officers, she couldn’t refuse. If you start picking and choosing whom to favor, even when doing good, you’ll inevitably hear ill of yourself.
But that didn’t mean she foolishly trusted people anymore.
“As you ordered, we will ensure strict separation and security between the officers’ quarters and the rest of the space. Information packets for the incoming officers have also been prepared.”
“Good. If the officers need anything, provide them with all necessary support within reason.”
The moment she stepped through the door the maids opened, those two appeared around the corner—the thief and the thief. Eve looked away from them and turned her head to the butler.
“I trust that in my absence, you will ensure there are no complications.”
“Of course. Put the officers’ move-in out of your mind and enjoy the day with your loved ones.”
At this meaningful farewell, Eve looked at the butler with interest.
The butler who had served the Kentrell house since her childhood—though he hadn’t participated in Robert Callas’s seizure of power, he hadn’t stopped it either. One could argue what a mere servant could have done, but the butler’s salary, equal to that of some professors, included payment for loyalty to the family.
As soon as Eve seized power, she replaced the butler who had switched masters in her absence. So the current butler—who, even seeing the groom, didn’t wish the bride to enjoy her “once-in-a-lifetime day”—was the successor of that man and Eve’s person. It was amusing that he seemed to be hinting that he also knew about the affair between the “dowager duchess” and the family doctor.
Well, a butler had to be perceptive—he couldn’t not have noticed.
Tony just mustn’t notice.
Deciding to warn him again, she dismissed the butler and the maids and crossed paths with Chantal—but Chantal dared to confront Eve first.
“Eve, do you really have to let those terrible soldiers into my house? I begged you to reconsider.”
Chantal was against letting the military into the mansion. Eve ignored her and had her way. Because this wasn’t that leech’s house.
“You need to think about Tony. What if they have a bad influence on him?”
“Don’t hide behind the child if you’re the one who’s unhappy.”
When Eve dismissed her words and was about to leave, Chantal pressed the back of her hand to her forehead like a society lady fainting from shock and moaned.
“Ahh, those crude soldiers who don’t appreciate the beauty of flowers might trample my Lavinian-style garden.”
As if she knows anything about the beauty of flowers.
Behaving as if that were the yardstick distinguishing aristocrats from commoners—when she was nothing but an ignorant vulgarian.
“Chantal.”
Eve never called this thief “Dowager Duchess.”
“I’ll teach you aristocratic behavior. It is the duty of the aristocracy to step forward and protect the country when it’s in distress. Since Kentrell currently has no adult men capable of wearing a uniform, we must at least donate spare rooms to save face for the aristocrats.”
She wasn’t trying to convince Chantal. Either way, Eve now had the power to decide everything in this family alone. The balance of power between ruler and subject had changed the day the head of those thieves, Robert Callas, died.
While he was alive, Eve had been nothing more than a perfect scarecrow. A expensive doll occasionally trotted out to show the world that the House of Kentrell was still standing.
The scarecrow had been forced to stand in the middle of a golden field—as if serving a sentence—watching a flock of vultures, descended like a plague, devouring that field.
But when Callas died suddenly, the hand that had arbitrarily held and managed the Kentrell fortune disappeared. His only son, Dr. Owen Callas, was a puppet who only did what his father or his lover told him—he had no ambitions of his own.
Chantal, who had been nothing more than another puppet of Callas, clumsily tried to imitate her master—but Eve just watched. She believed in Chantal’s ignorance—unable to understand a single line of a newspaper, let alone accounting books.
Go ahead, try to manage. Eve stepped back into the shadows, and soon Chantal began “delegating” authorities to Eve one by one, until finally she handed over all economic rights. She put a dog collar on herself and handed the leash to her enemy.
Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. The reward for all those years of swallowing humiliation with clenched teeth was intoxicating.
Now Eve, using the war as a cover, squeezed the finances—slowly but surely tightening the noose around their necks. Chantal, who had once constantly threatened her, pressing the knife of her past to Eve’s throat—now that her purse was in Eve’s hands, didn’t dare attack. She must have realized that without Eve’s permission, she couldn’t even buy herself a pair of gloves.
Thus, she had escaped a life where she was a prisoner in her own home—and for the past three years, she had kept her enemies in chains.
So the lecture on aristocratic behavior was just to humiliate her under the guise of sympathy and remind her of her place.
“Poor Chantal. You’ve spent ten years pretending to be a noble lady, but you’ve never learned to give. It seems impossible to rid yourself of the vulgar nature of a swindler who only knows how to take.”
Chantal flushed and glared at her fiercely.
And what are you going to do to me?
It was almost laughable. Chantal clearly understood her position—since she didn’t even protest being insulted as “Dowager Duchess.”
The ringleader was dead, and Eve had driven out all the servants she had bribed. Now, the only power this woman had to pressure Eve with was the duke and her “son”—Tony.
Since then, Chantal had started using Tony to gain the upper hand in her relationship with Eve.
“Eve! If you make Mother cry again, I’ll never forgive you!”
Your mother is me.
Every time her son called another woman “Mother” and loved her, Eve had to digest that rotting pain alone.
While Callas was alive, Eve had been nothing more than a hostage—so when her child was stolen, she couldn’t even get him back, let alone hold him as much as she wanted.
So when Callas died, she had hoped to get back not only the family fortune but also Tony—but he only grew more distant.
But as long as Tony believed Chantal was his mother, there was nothing to be done—and she couldn’t wish for him to find out that she wasn’t his mother.
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