Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

In the morning, I called Ella out.

The dining hall was packed with about ten people at most—there was me, Lord Cyrus, my daughter Lisa, Ella, and Lord Ruifeng.

I had also invited marquis Dario, but he said his stomach hurt and didn’t come out of his room. I wasn’t expecting much from him, and thinking it might actually go smoother without him, I just left it be.

As a result, Ella sat alone on the wooden floor. We all stood around her, looking down at her.

...Of course, seeing her so terribly withdrawn and frightened, I felt a little sorry for her. But I had to press her.

In the lowest voice I’ve ever used in my life, I spoke.

“Cyrus Granado is my husband.”

Ella didn’t answer. I continued.

“And he is the noble duke of Dilz, and above all, the father of Elisabeth. You can’t say you didn’t know that, right, Ella?”

“...Yes...”

Ella muttered in a barely audible voice. I ignored that and kept going in the same tone.

“Explain why you visited his bedroom.”

Ella lowered her eyes and answered hesitantly.

“...Because... I never thought I’d have to tell the lady...”

“That’s not a reason. And why did you think Lord Cyrus would keep silent about it?”

“Because... Lord Cyrus is kind...”

At that, Lord Cyrus gave a wry smile.

“If I were just a ‘kind man,’ I might have forgiven you. But I want to be a ‘kind husband.’ I strive not to make my wife anxious.”

“...But... even if Lord Cyrus gets angry, Lady Marie has nothing to do with it—”

“I am his wife.”

When I stated that firmly, Ella fell silent.

I was angry.

As his wife, how dare this intruder come to seduce—or rather, make a night visit to—my husband! And as someone who loves Cyrus Granado, I could never forgive someone who insulted him.

By nature, I’m not good at asserting myself. Even if I have thoughts about others, I tend to stay quiet, fearing that arguing would only escalate the conflict. I’m not very materialistic either; I usually give way to others. If I lose something but others are satisfied, I think that’s fine.

But not with him. Lord Cyrus is non-negotiable. I will never forgive anyone who tries to take my husband away or who insults him.

Lord Cyrus, Lord Ruifeng, and the attendants suggested they could accuse Ella on my behalf. But I refused. I am the one most furious about Ella’s actions. I decided to express my anger with my own words.

I looked down at Ella and quietly accused her.

“If you have any excuses, say them now. But don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“...No... It’s my fault...”

Ella muttered while staring at a spot on the floor.

Finding this meaningless, Lord Ruifeng shrugged and gave a sarcastic laugh.

“You shouldn’t use logic on this kind of person, Marie. They just cry and don’t really reflect; they might even start acting like the victim.”

It was unusually harsh, and he looked truly fed up.

“I hate this kind of person the most. You can’t be lenient. The best way is to throw them into the forest without any explanation.”

This was probably meant as black humor, and Lord Cyrus reprimanded him.

“That’s too much,” he said.

But Ella nodded solemnly.

“Yes... Please punish me.”

“...Are you asking me to hit you too?”

Lord Cyrus asked, and Ella nodded. His face darkened. Then he quickly looked away from Ella, making a cold, dismissive gesture.

But I understood: Lord Cyrus was the one who pitied Ella the most in this room.

Last night—almost at dawn—Lord Cyrus came to my room. He asked to sleep there, even if it was on the floor.

I held Lisa close and made space, letting him into the bed. Up close, he looked very pale. When I asked if something had happened or if the marquis had played some strange prank on him, he said nothing and just looked gloomy. I said nothing and looked into his green eyes. After a long time, he finally spoke slowly, as if forcing the words out.

He told me he had involuntarily seen Ella’s body, and there were bruises on her back from being hit by a man. The shock brought back memories—the tragic woman who lost her life at the end of a tragedy of love and hate.