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Chapter 4
When we returned to the mansion, Erica hurried straight to her room.
I was about to slowly make my way to mine, feeling tired, when a voice stopped me.
“Where have you been?”
It was Martin Cloud. Wasn’t he supposed to be busy?
“Out shopping,” I answered. “With your sister. She just went in — didn’t you see her?”
My reply wasn’t exactly sweet.
It wasn’t just that I was exhausted from dealing with Erica all day — the man who had left Jemma penniless was standing right in front of me.
I just spent the whole day entertaining your sister, almost died of embarrassment, and now you’re questioning me?
Martin looked at me with interest, like he found it amusing that someone with no money had gone shopping.
Sure, Erica had paid, so I hadn’t done anything wrong, but his sharp gaze still made my throat dry.
Why do I feel like a guilty person here?
He suddenly stepped closer.
“Have you finally gotten rid of that habit?”
I could guess which “habit” he meant — probably my supposed wasteful spending.
“I don’t even have control over money. What could I possibly do?”
“A foolish question, then,” he said with a faint, mocking smile.
His tone made irritation rise from deep in my chest.
“Even if I did like spending money, I’m still your wife. Shouldn’t you at least give me a small allowance to maintain my dignity?”
“An allowance, you say…”
I knew the chances were slim, but I couldn’t just drop it.
He smirked, like my words were funny.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Do you know how many dresses your sister bought today? Not a few — dozens.”
“…”
“They were all gifts for me, of course…” I trailed off, correcting myself — more like payment for saving her life, but still.
The faint smile lingering on his face vanished completely.
“You’re quite shameless, Madam.”
“Shameless?”
“You used to admit it openly before. Now you’re pretending ignorance?”
“…!”
Martin lightly took my wrist.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
He didn’t grip tightly, but the rough warmth of his hand surprised me — it wasn’t as cold as I expected.
Before I could process it, he led me straight into his study.
“Why are we here?” I asked, looking up at him.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
Without another word, he went to his desk and pulled something from a drawer.
“This should change your mind,” he said.
He held up a thick stack of papers covered in endless numbers.
“What… what is that?”
“Evidence I’ve been keeping, for when you try to deny things like this.”
Evidence?
I took the stack from him and sat down to look through it. My jaw dropped. There were so many zeros that my hands started to shake.
Page after page, the numbers got worse.
My god.
I’d thought Erica’s gift of dozens of dresses was extravagant — but compared to this ledger, it was nothing.
Next to the old Jemma, Erica was frugal.
“How much did this woman spend in the name of the Duchess?”
“I assume you won’t be talking about allowances anymore,” Martin said.
I had no words. It wasn’t even my spending, but now I was the one stuck with this reputation.
Still, to survive and change the original story, I needed to be a Duchess with influence — and that meant I needed money.
“I have a proposal,” I said, standing up. I knew it probably wouldn’t sway him, but I had to try.
“Give me control over my own finances.”
“You can say that after seeing this ledger?”
“I’m not saying I’d spend in secret. I’d use it for things worth your approval — and fairly.”
He looked genuinely surprised that I’d even ask. Stroking his chin, he took the ledger back and locked it away.
“No.” His red eyes were cold.
“What about if I prepare a budget and get your approval first?”
He just frowned.
He’s not budging.
Fine. He was a shrewd businessman from a young age — this kind of trick wouldn’t work on him.
“Alright then,” I said.
“…?”
“You don’t give me money — but you also don’t interfere with any business I do myself.”
“You plan to start a business?”
“Why not? You do it, don’t you?”
My childish tone made a vein pop on his forehead, but after a moment, he shrugged.
“I’m curious what you’ll try.”
I smiled brightly. “Me too. I’m curious how you’ll react.”
Then I turned and strode out of the study.
“Did I hear you right? Madam actually asked for control over the finances?”
“Yes,” Martin replied.
Babel, the butler, studied Martin’s face. The Duchess he knew might throw tantrums, but never ask for something like that.
“When I refused, she said she’d earn money herself,” Martin added, a faint, puzzling smile crossing his lips.
“Surely you told her no?”
“No. I told her to do as she wished.”
“What? But you’ve always despised her sense of money.”
“I have,” he said simply.
Babel was openly shocked, but Martin had expected that reaction. He tapped the ledger on his desk — remembering Jemma’s shocked hands flipping through it, then stopping in resignation, yet still daring to defy him with that determined look.
Was she always capable of making that expression? He doubted it.
His lips twitched into a smile before he quickly erased it.
Had she really changed? And if so, why?
When he went to close the drawer, his eyes fell on the white document beside the ledger.
The contract that had bound him to Jemma, yet also protected him from her.
He rarely looked at it — it only filled him with a sense of helplessness. Pushing it deeper into the drawer, he finally shut it.
Later, I sat at my table, replaying the conversation in my head. My legs, hidden under the long dress, were probably shaking.
Money is the problem.
I couldn’t keep going to Erica for help — and I needed funds to stand my ground with Martin.
Maybe I should have bowed and begged until he gave in…
No. He’d never agree. Just remembering the cold look in his eyes made me shiver.
Then I remembered something Erica had said:
[Don’t tell me you’ve been secretly saving money without my brother knowing?]
Right — an emergency stash! Surely Jemma had hidden some away?
I tore through the room like a petty thief — checking coat pockets, desk drawers, under the bed. Nothing.
[No way. My brother’s too thorough for that.]
Figures. And maybe Jemma was just too careless to prepare anything.
I was thinking how the two of them might actually be a perfect match when I heard someone outside.
“Madam, may I come in?”
“Come in.”
Mari entered with the thirty dresses Erica had given me days ago, all freshly cleaned. She began neatly folding them into the closet — but soon stopped, looking awkward.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah… there’s no space left.”
She was right — the closet was stuffed full, with several dresses still left outside.
Obviously, I needed to clear out the ones I wouldn’t wear.
“…!”
Wait. Dresses.
Why hadn’t I thought of this before?
I clapped my hands, startling Mari.
“Mari?”
“Yes, Madam?”
“Pull out all the dresses I don’t wear.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. We’ll have more room that way.”
She obeyed, then asked, “Should I throw them out?”
Throw them out? That would be wasteful.
I thought back to the “evidence” Martin had shown me — all those endless zeros from the old Jemma’s wasteful spending.
I patted Mari’s shoulder. “Throw them out? No — I can put them to good use.”
And by “good use,” I meant… selling them.
Who wouldn’t want elegant dresses once worn by a Duchess, at a bargain price?
Soon, Mari was pulling out armfuls of ornate dresses. My mouth watered just thinking of the money they could bring.
Watch me, Martin.
I rolled up my sleeves and began sorting through the best-quality ones with Mari — when suddenly, an all-too-familiar sharp voice cut in.
“What are you doing?”
I froze on the spot.
