Chapter 45: Everything Has Returned

“How can I win your heart?”

The boy’s languid, deep voice echoed in her mind. Afrosa—no, Lara—opened her eyes. The ceiling loomed high above. The painted rose vines covering the walls tugged at memories of a distant past, fleeting and meaningless as they were.

Her wide eyes wandered. The name she had long forgotten filled her mind entirely. The moment she reclaimed her true name, after days spent clinging to the guise of “Afrosa,” she felt as though she had finally rediscovered her real self.

Yet, it came with a crushing weight, like being pressed into the ground. It was unbearable. Slowly, she shifted her gaze to search for the man who was never truly her husband.

Alec was there, clasping her pale hand, pressing a kiss to its back. She had no idea how many hours had passed since she collapsed at Marquis Heslo’s banquet. Lara could only think of how ridiculous she must have looked.

How stunned must Valery have been? And how much scorn had she hidden behind her cold smirk? Lara felt as though her insides had been ripped apart. Her toes quivered with the stabbing pain in her gut, which twisted with every thought. Afrosa pulled her hand away from Alec’s grasp.

“Rose.”

Alec, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, raised his head. Lara pondered what expression to wear. Alec… She never imagined she’d face him again.

Why? Why had it come to this? Her thoughts were chaotic. She bit her lip and glared at the man reaching toward her.

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Alec curled his fingers into a fist and lowered his hand. Lara gazed at his smooth, impeccably handsome face.

Was it a dream? No, it wasn’t a dream. It could never be just a dream. What she had seen wasn’t a mere product of her imagination.

She had lived it. Felt it.

The day he announced Valery’s pregnancy. The day Valery stood at his side, gently cradling her swollen belly.

How Gladys, with her icy gaze, had glared at Valery as if the pregnancy was insignificant, and later unleashed her fury and scorn upon Lara. All of it was vivid in her memory.

For decades, she had endured things she thought she could never bear. Then she perished in the flames, dying alongside her son.

But now… Now…

“Rose.”

“What about the banquet?”

“It’s still underway.”

“Marquis Heslo must have been taken aback.”

“It’s fine. How are you feeling? The doctor came by.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Lara lightly shook her head. Alec’s gray eyes, heavy and cold as forged iron, rested on her. She averted her gaze, unable to bear their weight, and Alec’s expression hardened.

“Rose.”

“Let’s get up. This is your place, and leaving it empty for too long is inappropriate.”

“The banquet doesn’t matter.”

“How can it not matter? It’s the first event you’ve attended since arriving in Dranberg.”

Lara rose from the bed, but Alec placed his hands on her shoulders. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She wanted to sear the places he touched with fire, to burn away the sensation.

Yet she didn’t let it show. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She had died. She was certain she had died. And yet, here she was, alive.

How was this possible? Lara looked down at her own flawless, unblemished hands, as unmarked as Alec’s. What was this called? Regression? Reincarnation? Her mind spun into darkness.

Was this a dream? Would she wake up to the same life, confined to the separate palace, tending to her broken son?

“You have a fever.”

Alec placed his hand on her forehead. Lara recoiled violently, as if she had been shocked.

“Don’t touch me!”

That night came flooding back—the night he had forced a kiss on her. It was the last memory she had of him.

Since then, Alec had taken two more wives, had proper children with them, and yet had summoned Lara to the palace. He had dragged her into that gathering, knowing full well what Laurent would do. Just as he had when Valery had her first pregnancy banquet.

Not just Valery. Gladys too. He impregnated Gladys immediately after Valery bore him a son. And Lara—Lara endured it over and over. She told herself it was all over, that it had all passed.

You’re safe now. Our children are safe. She had clung to those words. But what had she truly protected?

Nothing. She had protected nothing. And neither had Alec.

Lara…

“Disgusting!”

She shoved against his solid chest, her nausea rising. Her knees buckled as memories clashed and overflowed within her.

“Get… get out…”

Her strength gave way, and she collapsed, gasping for air. Without the energy to yell, her shoulders heaved silently. Alec knelt before her, turning her gently. He wiped the dampness from her chin.

Lara bit her trembling lip and glared at him. She wanted to tear him apart, to mutilate and spit on his corpse. But Alec remained calm, his face unperturbed. He didn’t even look surprised anymore.

“Do you remember?”

After wiping her tears for what seemed like an eternity, Alec asked the question as though it were nothing. Lara bit down hard, her teeth sinking into her lips.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, like a leaf in the wind. Cold sweat dripped down her back, and her vision swam. She shoved him away, gasping as though she were suffocating.

“Rose.”

“How… how is this happening? Is this a dream? Are we… are we dreaming?”

Her pale face reflected her fear as she mumbled incoherently. Alec caught her as she faltered and held her steady. Shaking his head, he answered.

“We’ve been given a chance to start over.”

Her trembling, as violent as if her soul were about to leave her body, suddenly stilled.

“This time, Rose,” Alec whispered, “this time, I’m ready to protect you and our child.”

Ah… Could there be a nightmare worse than this? Tears welled up, and Lara broke into sobs.

If only… If only… Her lips were suddenly devoured by his handsome ones. She remembered now—even their farewell had been sealed with a kiss.

She remembered the man who had bound her to him. How their life together had ended in utter devastation. There had not been a single shred of love in their dreadful ending.

---

“That bastard showed up too?”

Valerie turned to her brother. Edwid handed her a glass of champagne.

Valerie gracefully took it, her thoughts drifting to the woman who had fainted at the mere sight of her. The woman whom the prince had introduced as his wife. Where had she seen her before? The face felt familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her annoyingly handsome brother asked. He clearly wanted to talk about Lawrence, their elder half-brother by their father’s mistress.

Though Lawrence hadn’t acknowledged him, Edwid had been preoccupied with him ever since entering the Marquis of Hesslow’s mansion. Valerie decided to redirect his attention.

“Did you see that woman earlier?”

“Who?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The prince’s wife.”

“Oh.”

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

“The girl who used to wash your feet.”

“The one you were so smitten with.”

“What?”

“You were obsessed with her, weren’t you?”

Edwid’s brow furrowed at Valerie’s words. But her tone remained void of any humor as she continued.

“You were madly obsessed. So much so that, at your age, you were constantly trying to flip the skirt of a seven-year-old girl.”

“I never—!”

“Whether you deny it or not, the past doesn’t change. And I still remember how frenzied you became after she disappeared.”

Back then, their father had been so consumed with the disappearance of Lawrence’s mother that he’d abandoned all else, leading search parties himself to track her down and bring her back to the castle.

No one, including Edwid, had dared to ask their father to also search for the slave girl he used to play with. The household had been in such chaos that no one had the time to look for her. For years, her fate—whether she was alive, dead, or in hiding—remained a mystery.

“You…”

“She’s still beautiful, isn’t she?”

Valerie sipped her champagne as she murmured. Edwid, who had been glaring at his sister, recalled the girl vividly from his memory. Even in rags, she had been striking—like a polished piece of sea glass, her clarity drawing every gaze.

Despite having a sister like Valerie, celebrated as a great beauty of their time, he had been captivated by that girl. While Valerie’s natural features were undeniably more stunning, there was something about the slave girl that had a peculiar allure.

“But how did she become the prince’s wife?”

“Wife? No way. How could a runaway slave marry a prince?”

The mention of marriage seemed to irritate Valerie, and her voice dripped with sarcasm. Edwid picked up on the subtle tension in her furrowed brows and knew she was hiding something.

Since leaving the banquet hall, her face had been slightly flushed—a departure from her usual calm demeanor. It was a change even her chambermaids wouldn’t notice, but Edwid had a keen eye.

“So, you don’t acknowledge her then?”

“Whether I acknowledge her or not is irrelevant.”

“Ah, I see.”

Edwid chuckled briefly. Valerie shot him a sharp glare, her suppressed irritation evident. But Edwid merely smirked further in response.

“Officially, the prince is still unmarried, then?”

“I heard she’s pregnant.”

“Then it’s a bastard child.”

Valerie didn’t back down. Edwid mulled over his sister’s flushed face again as they left the banquet. She was a woman who had never known deprivation. Like him, she was born with everything and had everything at her feet before she could even want for it.

Their father, the Marquis Oppreesé, had raised Valerie with the single-minded goal of making her the perfect empress. With her flowing black hair, jewel-green eyes, elegant posture, and dignified demeanor, Valerie possessed an air of grace and authority unmatched by other noblewomen her age.

She wasn’t just beautiful—her education, manners, and taste were impeccable, making her an ideal noblewoman and future empress. If there was anyone worthy of being the wife of the empire’s most legitimate prince, it was Valerie.

It was a picture-perfect match.

Perhaps their father had dreamed of this union since Valerie was a child. If his goal had simply been to marry her into royalty, she could have been wed to any third or fourth prince of Rubero.

But no. Their father wanted her to be the woman of the most legitimate heir of this empire. Of course, this depended on the prince proving his worth and ambition.

If the prince were to rise and challenge for the throne, their father would support him, bolstering his power and sealing their alliance through marriage. Valerie would become the foundation of his strength.

But all of this hinged on one thing—the prince’s own resolve.

“Do you think the prince came to Dranberg to become emperor?”