The Wicked Wife’s Dark History Keeps Coming Back To Haunt Her - Chapter 128

She saw, for a brief moment, that his gaze dropped below her navel.

“I— I’m telling you, that’s not mine, it was enclosed with a letter addressed to the footman!”

“I’ll listen to your explanation later. You seem a bit too worked up right now.”

With his face stiff, Ash set down the unsightly scrap of cloth and strode out of the room.

“……!”

Nina let out a silent scream for quite some time.

She grabbed her hair, pounded her fists against the bed, and kicked at the blankets.

Her husband had definitely misunderstood her taste in underwear.

He said he didn’t, but considering how uncharacteristically flustered he was, it was clear that his image of her was now twisted in some strange way.

Of course, at this point, she didn’t have any image left to protect, but she really didn’t want to be mistaken for having perverted tastes.

‘…The letter. Right, I’ll just show him the letter later and clear up the misunderstanding.’

She had planned to show him the letter from that side anyway.

She’d lost her mind for a moment out of sheer embarrassment, but realizing it was a misunderstanding she could clear up at any time, she let out a relieved sigh.

‘For now, let’s get the letters together.’

Nina hurriedly gathered the scattered letters and tidied them up.

“Hm? What’s this, what a waste…”

The corner of Henry’s envelope was slightly crumpled.

She’d wanted to keep it pristine because the small painting on the envelope was so pretty.

Ash must have crumpled it when he picked it up earlier.

It was a shame, but it couldn’t be helped.

Nina set Henry’s letter aside and opened the thick envelope Catherine had sent.

She was supposed to go down for a meal, but she just couldn’t resist her curiosity about what was in such a thick envelope.

“Hm…?”

What Catherine had sent was the ‘Barrington Monthly’.

A regular publication issued every month by the Barrington newspaper company.

“What is this…?”

As Nina saw the main page of the magazine, her blue eyes shook with shock and confusion.

***

Dining hall of the Nesman Empire’s main palace—

A grand and antique dining hall, lavishly decorated with the most precious and expensive things.

In the center stood a broad, long table.

At the very head—considered the seat of honor—sat the Emperor, with those of highest rank seated to his left and right.

On the Emperor’s right was the Chief Justice, and on the left was the Minister of Finance.

“Marquis Killian, are you feeling better?”

Carlisle M. Killian, once the Duke of Taylor, had transferred his title to his son and entered the Imperial Palace early, serving as Chief Justice to the Emperor. Carlisle bowed deeply.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thanks to Your Majesty’s concern for my health, I was able to recover quickly.”

“Haha, that’s good to hear. You don’t know how worried I was, with you having to rest just before the charity event.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty.”

“In any case, it would have been nice if you could have attended. You can’t imagine how proud the Empress and I felt when we saw your granddaughter.”

Flinch.

When the Emperor mentioned his granddaughter, Carlisle’s lips twitched involuntarily.

“…My granddaughter, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, you can stop worrying about your granddaughter now. I’m sure you’ve had a hard time, but as expected, the blood of a Chief Justice does not lie.”

“…I am simply grateful for Your Majesty’s generous view.”

Carlisle forced a smile and bowed his head.

For the past two years, sighing like a waterfall whenever his granddaughter was mentioned had become a part of daily life.

But everything had changed from the day the charity event was held.

At that moment, the person sitting across from him spoke with a meaningful smile.

“Marquis Killian, now that I think of it, not only you, but your son, daughter-in-law, and grandson all missed the charity event, didn’t you?”

“……”

“It’s quite rare for an entire family to be ill at the same time. Truly, what a curious thing.”

Marquis Austin M. Crewe.

He was the Minister of Finance, directly below the Chief Justice in rank, and was one of Carlisle’s greatest rivals, having clashed with him over everything since their youth.

Marquis Crewe’s granddaughter was none other than Duchess Rebecca Nord.

The rivalry between the two men had been passed down another generation. If that wasn’t fate, what was?

“Taylor Duchy’s manor is near the forest, so sometimes the sunlight doesn’t reach. It’s not surprising to catch a cold even in midsummer.”

“Haha, then perhaps you should clear the forest, or move the mansion.”

At that, Carlisle spoke with icy blue eyes.