"Father..." I said hesitantly, "What truth did Amelia tell you?"
The smile slipped from his face like the last leaf falling from a tree before winter.
That Day…
The room was suffocating with sorrow, the very air heavy with grief. Duke Phillip sat in silence, his hands trembling, his breath shallow, his heart drowning in despair. His mind, overwhelmed with disbelief, refused to accept what had happened. Everything felt unreal—like a cruel illusion that wouldn't shatter no matter how hard he tried.
It had been several days since that dreadful moment. Since that cursed day—the day he had meticulously planned with his beloved wife, Isabelle. A day he had envisioned as beautiful, filled with joy and celebration, had instead turned into the darkest nightmare of his life.
That day… the day she disappeared. The day his soul was wrenched from his chest and he was left empty—utterly, painfully alone. She had vanished without a word, without a warning, without a single explanation. Just gone.
Had he failed her somehow? Was his love not enough—not adequate? What mistake had he made? Where had he gone wrong?
They said she had left him. Everyone believed it. They whispered behind his back, called it abandonment. But not him. No, he didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it.
Because he knew her. He knew that Isabelle would never leave him—not like that. Not without a word. Not when they had shared so much—dreams, laughter, promises.
He held on to that belief like a lifeline. He hadn't slept since that night. His head pounded from lack of rest, his body ached as though it had been beaten, but he didn't stop searching. He didn't allow himself even a moment of pause. He dared not stop.
Because deep down, he feared that if he ever stopped searching, if he allowed himself to rest or to grieve, his heart might stop too. And yet, despite everything—despite searching relentlessly and clinging to hope—he had found nothing. Not a letter, not a trace. It was as if she had been swallowed by the void.
Then, a knock echoed on his chamber door.
His heart jumped. He raced to open it within seconds, hope burning in his chest.
Perhaps this time—perhaps—there was good news. Maybe, finally, someone had found her. Maybe she was safe.
But the moment his eyes met his attendant's, his hope began to falter.
"My Lord," the attendant said, "Lady Amelia requests your attention. She claims to have information regarding Duchess Isabelle."
Phillip stiffened. "Bring her to the study. At once."
He didn't wait—he stormed toward the study, his heart hammering in his chest.
Moments later, Lady Amelia entered, her posture graceful, her expression carefully composed with practiced sorrow. She curtsied softly.
"This lady greets the Duke," she said, her voice laced with both sympathy and subtle flattery.
"There's no need for formalities," he snapped impatiently. "If you have something to say, say it. Quickly."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "My Lord, I've come to reveal the truth about the Duchess's disappearance."
His breath hitched. He gestured sharply for her to go on, his pulse racing.
She continued, "It was about two months after the banquet. I met the Duchess for a small tea gathering, something we used to do regularly. But that day… she seemed different. Distant. Sad. I could tell something was deeply wrong."
"For a long while, she remained quiet, unwilling to speak. I thought perhaps it was too personal, and I was ready to leave when she finally opened her mouth—and what she said left me stunned."
The Duke looked restless . "What did she say? Tell me."
"She said that…" Amelia's voice faltered, as if trying to soften the blow. "She said that she was unhappy. That she was tired of pretending to love you."
The words felt like knives being driven into his chest.
Phillip slumped into his chair, his entire body drained of strength.
He didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. Everything they had shared—it hadn't been a lie. It couldn't have been.
Still, Amelia continued, undeterred by his disbelief.
"My Lord, I understand how painful this must be. I didn't want to believe it either. I thought she might be joking at first. But then… then she said something even more heartless."
"She said she had married you because she thought you were powerful. A Grand Duke. Someone who would give her a life of ease and endless admiration. She imagined herself showered in riches, living without care. But once she realized you weren't the man she had imagined… she said she no longer wanted to stay. That she wanted to leave you and find someone more 'worthy' of her."
Before she could say another word, the sound of porcelain shattering cut her off.
"Enough!" Phillip bellowed, his voice thunderous. "How dare you come into my home and spit such filth about my wife?!"
His fists were clenched, knuckles white, veins throbbing in his neck. His entire frame shook with fury. He looked as if he might explode at any moment.
"If she said all this months ago, why didn't she leave then?" he demanded. "And why are you telling me this now?"
He was seething. The lies, the cruelty—it was too much.
Amelia lowered her head. "Because I convinced her to stay," she said quietly. "I begged her. I told her how much you loved her. I reminded her of your devotion. And she agreed. She promised she wouldn't leave you."
"But…" she paused, her voice cracking. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "But she did leave. I swear I didn't know she would go through with it. I thought my words had changed her mind,but..."
"But what?!" the Duke roared, his voice making Amelia flinch.
"I tried to stop her," she whispered. "But my words… they weren't enough."
"I don't believe you," he spat. "You lie. I know she would never say such things. Never."
Then he saw her reach into her purse.
"My Lord, I am not fabricating anything," she said as she pulled out a small box. "This is proof. A letter… from Duchess Isabelle. It was sent to me the day before she disappeared. Along with this."
She revealed a delicate silver locket.
The Duke's breath caught.
He snatched it from her hand.
"This… this is Isa's locket," he murmured. "She never took this off. It went missing after the banquet…"
"I know, my Lord," Amelia said, her tone heavy. "But in the letter… she explains everything. She faked her illness after the banquet, using the lost locket as an excuse."
"She wrote that it was all a ruse—to give her a reason to fall ill. So she could secretly… abort the child.