2

It's been three fricking days. Why hasn't the Duke summoned me yet?

The longer I stay here, the more stressed I get. I'm completely ready for this divorce—what on earth is he waiting for?

"Duchess? A letter has arrived from Marquis Cosimo," Lucy, the head maid of the Audovera duchy, announced as she entered the room without knocking.

"From Father?" I said, raising an eyebrow. I took the letter and opened it immediately. "Thank you. You can leave now," I added with a small nod.

Since moving here, I've made it a rule not to let any maids linger in my room. I only call them when I need something, and even then, it's strictly business.

I don't know what it is, but I always have this nagging feeling that they're keeping an eye on me. Watching. Judging. And honestly? They probably are.

That's been the story of the past three years. It's not like anyone in this household acknowledges me as the Duchess anyway, but do I care? No, not one bit.

We're all just waiting, aren't we? Waiting for the day I pack up and leave.

With a resigned sigh, I unfolded the letter from Father.

To My Precious Daughter,

Today's weather is sunny and pleasant. I've heard the Duke has returned from the war. I hope you are doing well.

Two years ago, you requested a vacation house to be built within our territory. I'm pleased to inform you that the house is now complete. If there's anything you'd like to change, please let me know.

Whenever you wish to visit, I'll gladly accompany you.

Remember, my dear, this father of yours will always support you in whatever you plan.

Love,

Your Father

So, the house is finally done. Two years ago, I asked Father to build it for me. But truthfully, it was always meant to be my escape plan—a place to live after the divorce.

In this world, getting a divorce is like branding yourself with a scarlet letter. It's a stain on a woman's reputation, and I suppose that's why the original Veronica clung so desperately to her marriage. The shame of it all was just too much for her to bear.

But me? I couldn't care less. My reputation is already buried six feet under. I just want to live a quiet, peaceful life.

Setting the letter aside, I grabbed a sheet of paper and began writing my reply.

To My Dearest Father,

Thank you for delivering the wonderful news. I'm truly excited to see the vacation house. I'll let you know when it's a good time to visit.

I can't express how grateful I am for your unwavering support. Don't worry—your daughter is doing well here. I love and miss you. Please always take care of yourself.

With love,

Veronica

After sealing the letter, I called Lucy back to have it sent. Once she left my room, I let out a sigh of relief.

Well, that's one thing taken care of. I have a house waiting for me, complete with a swimming pool—my dream retreat. Now all that's left is the divorce and the alimony.

Cheers to my soon-to-be peaceful life!

I smiled to myself, imagining the house. When I first explained the concept of a swimming pool to Father, he was utterly baffled. I even attempted to draw it out, but my childish sketches didn't help much. Thankfully, the craftsman finally understood what I meant, and it all worked out.

"Now, what should I do?" I muttered, glancing around the massive room. One of the few perks of this marriage was living in such a grand house. The Duke and I hardly crossed paths, which was a blessing, especially now that he's back.

He's probably holed up in his office. Even after surviving a three-year war, he's drowning in paperwork. No rest for the mighty Duke, I suppose.

But me? I'm at my wit's end.

"I need to talk to someone. I need to vent, or I swear I'll lose my mind." I reached for the small bell on my desk and rang it, signaling for the servants.

At least one of them has to listen to me rant.

Lucy entered the room.

"Help me get dressed. I'm going to the palace," I said, and she immediately set to work.

The maids brought out a dress made from a smooth, delicate fabric, one that felt soft against the skin. There's a reason I always choose this type of clothing—it's comfortable and never irritates.Lucy and three other maids helped me prepare, and before long, I was ready.

"The carriage is ready, Duchess," Lucy informed me as she stood by the door.

By now, they were used to my occasional visits to the palace. However, Lucy paused before I could leave.

"You're not going to inform the Duke, Duchess?" she asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"S-should I?" I hesitated for a moment. Was that really necessary? "No, just tell him I visited a friend if he asks," I added with a shrug. Not that he'd bother asking—three days have passed since his return, and he hasn't even acknowledged me.

"To Baerth Castle," I told the coachman as I climbed into the carriage. It lurched forward, and I leaned back with a sigh.

Baerth Castle is where the Empress resides. She's the only person in this country I'd consider a friend, the only one I can talk to like a normal human being.

Here, in this lonely duchy, where even the servants keep their distance, her company is my sole reprieve.

---

Duke Henrick stood by the window, his sharp eyes fixed on the carriage rolling down the driveway.

"David, where is the Duchess going?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity, never once glancing at the head butler standing behind him.

"The Duchess is heading to Baerth Castle, Your Grace," David replied dutifully.

"Baerth Castle? The Empress's palace?" Evander, the Duke's aide and trusted knight, chimed in with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," David confirmed. "The Duchess often visits the Empress from time to time."

Evander crossed his arms, a skeptical look on his face. "Hmm. Were they always that close? What is she scheming this time?"

The Duke, unfazed by the speculation, turned back to his desk, his expression unreadable. Instead of indulging in Evander's musings, he redirected the conversation.

"Did you retrieve the things I requested?" he asked David, his tone flat but authoritative.

"Yes, Your Grace. These are the ledgers documenting all of the Duchess's expenditures over the past three years." David stepped forward, carefully placing the thick stack of ledgers on the desk.

Henrick opened the first book, flipping through the pages with deliberate precision. Veronica's reputation as a spendthrift preceded her, and he fully expected to see extravagant numbers—jewelry, dresses, feasts. Yet, he was unprepared for what he saw.

"Is this accurate?" the Duke asked, his brow furrowing as disbelief flickered across his usually stoic face.

"Yes, Your Grace," David affirmed. "I personally verified each entry."

"What is it?" Evander asked, leaning closer to take a peek at the pages.

"Impossible," Henrick muttered, still staring at the numbers in front of him.

Evander scanned the records, his own expression twisting in confusion. "What... what did she even do with all this money? It's nowhere near what we expected."

The Duke closed the ledger with a soft but firm thud, his mind reeling. "What has she been doing all these years?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Something didn't add up. The woman he remembered from before the war—the one who demanded luxury and attention at every turn—was not reflected in these records.

And for the first time in years, Henrick found himself deeply curious about the woman he'd married.