The Wicked Wife’s Dark History Keeps Coming Back To Haunt Her - Chapter 191

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About twelve years ago, back when Marquis Dunklin still held the title of Count.

He was the lord of a domain situated on the border.

The territory was vast in size, but with no real specialty products to boast of, it was not a wealthy one.

That said, it wasn’t destitute either, so there was no concern about survival.

The problem, however, was that Count Dunklin was far too ambitious to be content with merely getting by.

The glamorous high society of the capital.

He wanted to live there, basking in wealth, respect, and praise from others.

But the capital was full to the brim with people just like him.

How could he realize his ambitions?

As he agonized over the question…

“If you live as my hands and feet, I’ll give you the greatest honor and wealth you could ever attain in your life. What do you say?”

At a club in the capital frequented by the upper class, he encountered Marquis Crewe.

The newly appointed Minister of Finance.

A rising figure in power who instantly saw through his desires and extended a hand.

“Establish a charity foundation. His Majesty is a ruler who values the livelihood of the people. If you operate the foundation, it’ll be a chance to catch His Majesty’s eye.”

Following Marquis Crewe’s suggestion, he spent two years preparing and eventually launched the Delphinium Foundation.

A few years later, thanks to the minister’s covert support, he was recognized for his charitable contributions and promoted to the rank of Marquis.

Now, wherever he went, he was showered with admiration.

Marquis Dunklin.

A man of exemplary character and a model among the aristocracy.

He was leading a most satisfying life, receiving the respect and reverence of all.

[There are signs that the Chief Justice’s influence is growing. You’ll need to stay in the capital to assist me and earn His Majesty’s trust. Hurry and come.]

But then, Marquis Dunklin recalled the letter he had recently received from Marquis Crewe, his brow furrowing.

It was thanks to the Minister of Finance that he had achieved his dream, so for the sake of his future, it was best to continue following his lead.

But his workload was already immense.

Considering the pile of tasks awaiting him lately, even two bodies wouldn’t be enough to handle it all. His head throbbed.

At the outskirts of the Dunklin Marquisate, in the orphanage called the ‘House of Angels’—

Late at night, a brown carriage made of the most common wood rumbled its way into the orphanage grounds.

“You’ve arrived, Milord?”

The Director greeted Marquis Dunklin with a genial smile.

The Marquis gave a small nod and asked.

“Is the merchandise ready?”

“I’ll go check and report back. In the meantime, how about waiting in my office? I’ve prepared some fine wine, so perhaps—”

“I’ll check the workshop first.”

With a scowl, Marquis Dunklin cut him off coldly.

The way the man’s eyes shifted, like someone with something to hide, suggested there had been a delay in preparation.

With the upcoming exhibition on the horizon, he needed to confirm everything personally.

“…Understood. This way, please.”

He followed the Director, who kept glancing back at him like a frightened dog.

They walked along a forest path behind the orphanage until they came upon a small building.

Constructed in an isolated area, the building looked like a storage shed from the outside, but the interior told a different story.

Marquis Dunklin cast a passing glance at the three guards stationed around the building, each holding torches and watching the perimeter with vigilance, then stepped inside.

The pungent scent of paint, paper, and easels hit him, and he reflexively held his breath, though only briefly.

Inside, painters under Delphinium’s patronage were working in near-death condition, slumped over their canvases.

Marquis Dunklin had trained the mediocre artists as ‘Angels’, while those with talent worthy of recognition were groomed as ‘Heaven’.

And now, these individuals were so deeply addicted to the drug ‘Angel’ that they had no choice but to obey his orders just to stay alive. They were nothing more than laborers under his control.

“When will they be finished?”

At his question, a young man with a haggard expression answered.

“I-It’ll be done soon. The first stage is complete. We just need to finish the second stage.”

They were supposedly staying at the orphanage as art teachers for the children, but in truth, they were mass-producing pieces to be displayed in the gallery.

Five painters for the first draft.

Another five for the finishing touches.

These paintings would be exhibited under the names of other artists the gallery was promoting.

And those who would purchase the pieces?

The nobles addicted to Heaven.