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Chapter 14
“Alright, Mr. Blake… please let go of me.”
As if regaining his senses, Blake released Freya’s wrist. Freya rubbed the sore spot. Seeing the red mark on her skin, Blake frowned.
“I went too far just now. I apologize.”
“It’s fine. I’m well aware of the Harper family’s violent streak.”
A brief silence fell between them. Freya finally broke it.
“Then I’ll be on my way. Regardless, thank you for saving me—”
“You’re just going to leave? Even after what I told you? You’re still willing to share your husband with another woman? Is your life’s motto to let yourself be made a fool of?”
“Whether I share my husband or not, that’s my business! Who are you to interfere like this?”
“Hmm. Perhaps just a kind businessman who wants to rescue a fool determined to walk into hell?”
“As the rumors say, you’re unbearably arrogant.”
“Why, what a flattering compliment. Thank you.”
Freya had meant to rile him, but Blake, instead of taking offense, even bent at the waist like a gentleman, pretending to be pleased.
Freya glared at him, thoroughly disgusted.
“Enough wordplay. I’ll repay today’s debt before the day ends. Now, would you please accept my farewell?”
Clenching her teeth, Freya bent her knees slightly in a formal bow, then quickly walked toward the door before he could grab her again.
But Blake’s legs were faster. With only a few strides, he overtook her.
While Freya rattled the doorknob, Blake pressed his forearm against the door, keeping it firmly shut.
Despite her efforts, her hands tugging the knob, the corded strength in his wrist refused to allow her exit.
“What the hell is this…!”
“There’s one fact I neglected to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Well… it’s embarrassing to say, but Jacob has an illegitimate child.”
Freya’s eyes widened. She quickly composed herself and shook her head.
“Now you’re lying. Maybe he once fell to temptation, but Jacob’s past is cleaner than anyone’s. My father himself verified it—it’s unquestionable.”
“But I have both evidence and witnesses. Even the mighty Count Lancelot Swan has his blind spots—he’s being played by a mere country girl.”
“I’m not so foolish as to fall for such slander.”
“Is that so? Then what about this?”
Blake pulled a photo from his inner pocket. Freya’s hand trembled as she took it.
In the photo, Jacob held a young boy in his arms. A woman gently touched his back. And smiling sweetly at Jacob’s side was Rachel.
“Isn’t this boy the spitting image of my father? Denial seems impossible.”
Blake tapped the photo. The well-kept nail pointed at the child’s face—eerily identical to Jacob’s.
Freya studied the boy’s features, feeling as though all the blood drained from her body.
Seeing her pale face, Blake’s lips curled into a crooked smirk. He shoved the photo into her hand, then smoothly opened the door.
“I’ve told you everything I know. I hope you make a wise decision, Miss Freya Swan.”
He pronounced her name as if chewing it. Freya, cornered and unable to argue further, looked up at him.
His icy blue eyes blazed down at her. Freya felt an odd sense of familiarity—as if she’d seen that fierce blue fire before.
That’s impossible… isn’t it?
She had only seen Blake in magazines or newspapers, never in person. Her father was adamant she avoid associating with anyone outside the royalist faction.
Freya was the first to look away. Every instinct screamed that this man was dangerous.
“Well then, I’ll escort you home safely. Ah, and you’ll need proper clothes as well.”
Gone was the threatening arrogance from moments before; Blake had slipped back into the role of a courteous gentleman.
Freya, still clutching the damning photo, stared blankly as he called for a maid.
The scenery outside changed rapidly as the car sped along. Freya sat in the back seat, staring vacantly out the window.
Her reflection on the glass looked strange to her. The sleeveless dress felt awkward, so she pressed down on the ivory cloche hat.
Though she’d only asked for something modest to cover herself, what Blake provided was a yet-unreleased gown by a famous designer.
“I don’t allow my people to look shabby.”
She had told him countless times she had no intention of working under him, but he ignored her words.
“That’s alright. We’ll meet again.”
What a strange man. Blake Harper was utterly incomprehensible by her standards.
His absolute certainty that she would join hands with him was infuriating. Worse, for someone supposedly proposing partnership, he didn’t bother to hide his hostility toward her.
But why? Was it just because she was a Swan? No—the personal animosity in his gaze hinted at something more.
If anyone had overheard their exchange, they might have mistaken them for old rivals.
But Freya had never even spoken to him before today, which only deepened her confusion.
“We’ve arrived.”
The chauffeur skillfully opened the back door. Freya nodded her thanks and stepped out.
He handed her a black plastic business card. Freya scowled and pushed it back into his hand.
“There’s no need—I won’t be seeing him again.”
“Throwing it away is your choice. Delivering it is mine. Good day, miss.”
The driver tipped his hat and drove off. Freya glared at the card, itching to toss it away—but Blake’s words about Jacob gnawed at her.
An illegitimate child… Father was deceived?
Her thoughts churned. She pulled the photo from her bag, searching desperately for signs of forgery. But the more she examined it, the clearer the truth became.
How could he… betray me like this?
Freya wasn’t one to indulge in self-pity, but she could think rationally about her circumstances.
Jacob needed her. Without marriage, he couldn’t inherit the Swan fortune. Moreover, as an outsider to noble society, he required Freya’s guidance to fulfill the role.
The Count of Swan wasn’t just a title—it was a pillar of the royalist faction, alongside Duke Harrington.
Jacob knew better than anyone that he couldn’t shoulder that burden alone.
And yet, on the night of their engagement, he had lain with his mistress. Did he think so little of her? Or had he simply gone mad? Perhaps madness was easier to forgive.
Freya lifted her eyes to the tightly shut gates. She still hadn’t decided what face to show Jacob, and her steps toward the house were unbearably heavy.
“You’ve returned, miss?”
She had expected chaos in the household after her absence, but everything was strangely normal. No maids eyed her suspiciously; only the usual busy workers scurried about.
In the Swan estate, even losing a hairpin was common gossip. Surely everyone knew she had been gone last night—yet not a soul said a word.
Freya sighed, glancing around. Rachel, as expected, was nowhere to be seen. No surprise there.
But the absence of Nancy, who would normally rush to her side, was troubling.
“Do you know where Nancy went?”
She stopped a passing maid, but all shook their heads.
“She hasn’t been seen since this morning.”
Freya grew anxious. Had Nancy gone looking for her and run into trouble? Since that incident, Nancy had thrown herself blindly into anything concerning her.
Could Jacob have done something to Nancy?
The dreadful thought barely formed when a gentle voice brushed her ear. Her neck prickled as she recognized it.
“Ah, Miss Swan. Good morning. Did you enjoy your walk?”
It was Jacob. Smiling warmly, he greeted her as if nothing was amiss. Freya scowled at his shamelessness. Jacob gave her a brief once-over, then smiled again.
“Or was it shopping? You’re wearing something I’ve never seen. A new style suits you well.”
