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Chapter 44
The loud, flashy young man who had irritated her from the very first impression introduced himself as Theo, the youngest grandson of Lionel Levatain.
Which meant that, to Juliet, he was her maternal cousin.
“Turns out you two are even the same age. Your birthdays are close, too.”
“…….”
“Kids, whatever happened between you, can’t we just make peace—”
Isaac, Juliet’s great-uncle and Theo’s father, tried desperately to mediate between them.
But Juliet and Theo, forced to sit across from each other at the table, simply folded their arms and glared at one another with murderous intensity.
They weren’t five-year-old children. Trying to reconcile a twenty-five-year-old son and a grown niece was a lost cause from the start.
“I don’t accept this.”
Theo leaned back in his chair, tilting it precariously as he propped his feet up on the table, lifting his chin arrogantly.
“This thing is Aunt Lillian’s daughter?”
Growing up, Theo had heard countless stories about “Aunt Lily.”
The youngest aunt who had run away with a noble officer before Theo was even born was said to be kind, considerate, beautiful—basically an angel.
She was also the one and only weakness of their mountain-like grandfather, Lionel Levatain.
And yet that vicious, bad-tempered woman was supposed to be Aunt Lillian’s daughter? Aside from her delicate features and decent looks…
“I mean—seriously! Doesn’t it seem suspicious? She disappears without a word and suddenly shows up now!”
“Hey, you little—!”
A flustered Isaac smacked the back of his youngest son’s head, but Theo had a skull like iron.
“She’s definitely got an ulterior motive! Mr. Zachary, you did run a proper background check on her, right?”
They were standing in the middle of the large drawing room, so Theo’s loud accusations naturally carried to everyone present.
But Juliet disliked Theo just as much.
What’s his problem?
He’d been like this since the first day they met.
Even when Juliet had done absolutely nothing, Theo had already insulted her.
“Ugh! Hey, let go of me! I’ve got the right to say this! You—say it yourself. You came here to swindle the old man out of his inheritance, didn’t you?”
Watching Theo thrash around across the table with a calm expression, Juliet realized there was a very simple way to shut him up.
Scrape.
She casually shoved the table.
Theo, sitting crookedly with his foot on top of it, lost his balance and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
“Hey! You—!”
Theo jumped up, face flushed with rage, then suddenly shouted,
“You… you’re ugly!”
“…?”
Isaac and the others stared at Theo as if he’d lost his mind, but Juliet merely clicked her tongue inwardly.
Honestly, that’s a pointless worry.
It was a bit cold, but that was how Juliet truly felt.
Meeting her mother’s family—people she hadn’t even known existed—was surprising and even touching. But that was all.
She had no desire to insert herself into her maternal family’s life.
Though she hadn’t known him long, her grandfather Lionel Levatain seemed cold even toward his three sons.
As the head of the family, he protected and valued people and bloodlines, but that was it. He didn’t dote on his children or grandchildren.
In other words, he was not the type of grandfather who would suddenly coddle an unexpected granddaughter who appeared out of nowhere. Theo, his biological grandson, knew that better than anyone.
…And he doesn’t hate me just because of money, does he?
The inheritance was just an excuse. There was another reason.
There was history between them.
When Theo glanced at her and their eyes met, his ears immediately turned red.
“…What are you staring at?”
Juliet knew that Theo’s explosive reaction was textbook overcompensation.
That was the reaction of someone who was embarrassed.
Hmph. As he should be.
Juliet remembered everything—how, at their first meeting, Theo had shoved gold coins into her hands and insulted her by calling her a kept woman.
She didn’t know what misunderstanding he’d had, nor did she care.
I was planning to kick his shin.
So she didn’t feel even a little guilty about kicking him and taking him hostage the next time they met.
…Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Juliet glanced around. Curious gazes were fixed on her from all sides.
She was currently seated in the reception room of Lionel Levatain’s private residence on the outskirts of Milos.
Lionel Levatain had many people working under him who revered him deeply, calling him “Elder.”
As a result, the house was always full of people, and Juliet was fully exposed to their blatant, curious glances as they passed by.
Surprisingly, Theo had hit the core of the issue.
If a strange woman suddenly appeared claiming to be the granddaughter of a powerful, wealthy man, what would people think first?
Nine times out of ten, they’d assume she was here to scam him.
Perfect.
Lionel Levatain was descending the mansion’s central staircase with Mr. Zachary.
Juliet set down her teacup, stood up, and before running toward her grandfather, cast Theo an arrogant sideways glance.
“…Huh?”
Watch and learn, amateur.
This is how you frame someone.
Perhaps Theo had his own reasons for misunderstanding her. And Juliet didn’t care whether he hated her or not—she was used to being disliked.
But she had a personal creed:
If someone hated her for no reason, she would give them one.
“Grandfather!”
One, two, three.
At the perfect timing, Juliet ran to the landing and dropped to her knees.
Lionel Levatain halted mid-step, and every person in the house turned to look.
“What is it, my child?”
“I’ve been waiting to return this to you. And these as well.”
Juliet quietly unfastened a necklace and several small accessories, including an onyx brooch.
They were all her mother’s belongings.
“They’re not worth much, but please take them and clear up the misunderstanding, Grandfather.”
“A misunderstanding?”
“I know everything. I’ve heard it all.”
Juliet didn’t shed a tear. Not yet.
“…That many people think I came here to deceive you and extort money from you.”
Instead, she looked up at her grandfather with eyes brimming with tears and forced a fragile smile.
“But please believe me. My parents—my mother—were the people I loved most in the world. How could I ever think something so horrible?”
A tear finally fell, and Juliet hurriedly wiped it away.
“Of course, I know everyone is only worried about you, Grandfather. So even if I hear things like I’m exploiting my mother’s death, or that I’m a fake who came for the inheritance, I can endure it.”
Theo’s jaw dropped.
Hey—when did I ever say it that harshly…?!
At the raw wording, Lionel Levatain’s brow furrowed.
“My child. Who dared to say such vile nonsense to you?”
“…That doesn’t matter.”
It mattered very much.
Juliet openly glanced once in Theo’s direction, then looked back at her grandfather, her expression struggling to hold back tears.
“But if even you think that way, Grandfather… I don’t think I could endure it. Your trust is the only thing that matters to me.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Lionel Levatain’s lips twitched.
It was a habit he had when suppressing laughter.
A man of his experience couldn’t possibly miss the intent behind Juliet’s little performance.
It looked like it targeted Theo, but in truth, it was aimed at everyone watching—everyone who came and went from his house.
He knew well that even among his loyal subordinates, there were whispers and doubts about the suddenly appeared granddaughter.
“Stand up, Juliet.”
Deliberately, Lionel Levatain spoke in a cold, stern voice.
“I promise you this. I will make sure such filthy words never reach your ears again.”
His gray eyes slowly swept across the room. Several people visibly flinched.
“If I hear such talk even once more, I will tear out every last tongue.”
It was a warning meant to be heard.
A declaration that he would no longer tolerate under-the-table gossip about Juliet.
Unexpectedly, three men watching the scene were struck by an old trauma.
Juliet’s uncles.
“…Good heavens. Theo doesn’t stand a chance.”
Isaac clicked his tongue.
“Older brother, she’s doing exactly—”
“She’s Lillian’s spitting image. It’s creepy how identical it is.”
The three brothers recalled their youngest sister—who, with an angelic face, had repeatedly driven her three older brothers to despair.
Blood really didn’t lie.
After closing the door to the study, Zachary spoke with a smile.
“She resembles the youngest lady quite a bit, doesn’t she?”
“Hm.”
Though he sat stiffly in his chair, Lionel Levatain couldn’t hide the smile on his face.
“The way she dances on her brothers’ heads—it’s exactly the same.”
A deep longing colored his voice.
Zachary looked at him with quiet sympathy.
As Lionel Levatain’s most trusted aide, Zachary knew how much he had mourned the loss of his youngest daughter over the years.
Though he’d dismissed it to Juliet as having “buried her in his heart,” what parent could truly do that?
Lionel Levatain had done everything he could to find traces of his missing daughter.
He wondered if she’d been tricked by some scoundrel and was living in hardship, unable to return. He regularly visited welfare institutions and gave generous donations.
He never sold any of his estates across the eastern region—just in case Lillian might someday come looking for him.
“…At least it’s fortunate,” Lionel murmured. “That she grew up so sharp and strong.”
Zachary understood the unspoken meaning.
Not long after the granddaughter carrying his missing daughter’s necklace appeared in Milos, Lionel Levatain finally learned what had happened to the daughter he’d searched for decades.
She had become Countess Lillian Monad.
No wonder he’d never found her.
Count Monad, who had run away with Lillian, was cunning as a fox.
He had even purchased the genealogy of a fallen noble house, thoroughly laundering his wife’s identity and allowing her to live as a perfectly respectable lady within the system.
Over the past few days, Lionel Levatain had reread the report on his son-in-law—Count Cassius Monad, who had died seven years earlier—multiple times.
No matter how upright the man’s character had been, from the perspective of a father whose daughter was stolen away, he was still a scoundrel.
But perhaps the line “widely known as a devoted husband” offered the count a small measure of absolution?
At least, Zachary thought, it might have offered Lionel Levatain some comfort.
“Well? Did you find out?” Lionel asked.
“Yes. Miss Juliet has a tail.”
Lionel Levatain had naturally ordered an investigation into his granddaughter as well.
Unlike Lillian—who had changed her identity and vanished so completely it was like searching for a needle in the desert—gathering information on Juliet was as easy as collecting scattered grain.
And when Zachary diligently gathered rumors, he nearly fell backward.
“…The one behind that tail is the Duke of Carlisle of the North.”
