🔊 TTS Settings
Episode 3
My breath caught in my throat, and my heart ached so badly it was hard to bear.
One of the greatest regrets of my life was never being able to give birth to Bliss myself, so his words made me feel unbearably lonely.
Then I remembered.
Calm down. At this age, Bliss doesn’t know that his biological mother died giving birth to him. He doesn’t even know I’m not his real mother.
The truth was that eight-year-old Bliss followed Julia far more than he followed me, the woman he believed was his mother.
Julia.
She had appeared three years ago.
She introduced herself as a courtesan, but in reality, she was nothing more than an aging prostitute ten years older than me.
She had stolen not only my husband, but my son’s heart as well.
Then again, any man would probably fall for her.
Even I had to admit she was beautiful.
The late Marquis of Arista had certainly been obsessed with her.
Unlike me, she never scolded Bliss.
Even when he pulled innocent maids around by their hair.
Of course, she didn’t care.
Why would a mere mistress care whether the future Marquis of Arista grew up to be a complete disaster?
As far as she was concerned, she only needed to stay with my husband until he got tired of her, take a generous payout, and leave.
All while playing happy family with my husband and son.
Thinking about those bitter years, when I’d been too busy raising Bliss to dwell on it, made my hands tremble.
Part of me wanted to throw that ungrateful brat out the window.
After all, Bliss wasn’t my biological child.
And I certainly hadn’t married my husband because I loved him.
To my husband, I was just a replacement for Bliss’s real mother—the woman who died giving birth to him.
At twenty years old, after reaching adulthood and preparing for my debut into society, I was kidnapped by my future husband.
Why not?
Because Bliss needed a noblewoman to be his stepmother.
Naturally, no sane noblewoman would willingly marry a man like my husband.
So he picked an easy target.
Me.
Fortunately, nothing happened physically.
But the scandal ruined me anyway.
To silence the rumors, my parents forced me to marry him.
Exactly as my future husband had planned.
Of course, I fought against that miserable fate.
I even ran away before the wedding.
But I couldn’t forget the face of little Bliss.
In the end, I came back.
Comforting myself with the words of a fortune teller I’d met on the street.
“Once you get married, everything you want will come easily.”
Yeah, right.
What nonsense.
All I had ever wanted was a family that loved and trusted one another.
That’s why I loved Bliss so much.
But all my devotion and love led to one thing.
Death.
Killed by my own son.
I forced my trembling voice to steady.
“Bliss. Why do you keep calling me a fake mother? Do you have any idea how hard I worked raising you?”
“It’s true! You’re fake! You couldn’t even stop my real mom from taking your room away!”
I felt so humiliated that I almost wanted to cry.
Then again, maybe it made sense that he’d say something like that.
Bliss and I had barely seen each other during the last three years.
I’d only had five years to raise him myself.
Julia stole him away from me when he was five.
My eyes burned.
But I knew crying wouldn’t change anything.
And if I cried now, what would Bliss think?
Even if he’s only afraid because I hit him, it’s still better than having him look at me like I’m dirt.
At least now he understood that I wasn’t going to silently endure insults anymore.
That alone was enough to make him cautious around me.
That had never happened before my regression.
The whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth.
It’s not like I enjoyed hitting him.
Every time I looked at eight-year-old Bliss, my heart hurt.
Part of me wondered if I should have been stricter from the beginning.
Whether all the tears and effort I’d poured into raising him had been worth less than a single spanking.
I swallowed back another wave of tears.
“Do you know something, Bliss? I never wanted you to grow up feeling afraid of being hit. I never wanted my precious child to grow up constantly watching people’s moods. You’re… no, we’re human beings, not animals.”
“Stop saying weird stuff and get out of my room!”
If voices had shapes, Bliss’s would have been covered in thorns.
I bit my trembling lip and prayed my voice sounded firm.
“Bliss. There’s only one way you’re getting me out of this room.”
“Stop embarrassing me and attend the funeral. Then I’ll leave.”
Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Bliss stomped his feet angrily.
“I’m telling my real mom!”
“Go ahead! Do you think I’m still scared of Julia at my age?”
“When she slapped you before, you couldn’t even say anything!”
My spine stiffened.
No matter how many times I experienced it, it still felt strange.
The child I’d raised with my own blood, sweat, and tears could make me hate him this much.
Bliss thought I’d gone quiet because I was afraid of Julia.
He grinned smugly.
“It’s too late now! Just wait! I’ll ask my real mom to hit you again!”
I frowned.
“No. Julia can’t hit me anymore.”
“Huh?”
“The person who allowed Julia to do whatever she wanted is gone now. Your father is dead.”
“Damn it!”
“The same goes for you, Bliss. Things aren’t going to be that easy anymore.”
Snorting, I began pulling off his clothes.
Bliss struggled wildly to escape my grasp, but it was useless.
Soon, he was standing there in nothing but his underwear.
I grabbed mourning clothes from the wardrobe and held them out.
“Put these on. Every occasion has clothes that are appropriate for it.”
“No!”
His face was full of rebellion.
My heart hurt.
But I couldn’t waste time arguing.
I pushed his arms into the sleeves of the mourning shirt.
Repeating to myself over and over:
Don’t hit him again. Don’t hit him again.
Finally, after dressing him properly, I reached for his hand.
If necessary, I planned to drag him all the way to the funeral.
Then..
SMACK!
Bliss slapped my hand away.
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
I was about to respond when I noticed his expression.
His fierce eyes.
His flaring nostrils.
His twisted lips.
It looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Then he shouted.
“Why should I go to the funeral of someone who got drunk, acted pathetic, and got kicked to death by a horse?! That’s not my father!”
It felt like someone had smashed a hammer into the back of my head.
Bliss knows how his father died?!
And.
Dear God. That’s too cruel a truth for an eight-year-old child to know!
I suddenly wanted to grab my late husband’s collar and shake him.
You idiot! If you’re going to die, couldn’t you at least die with some dignity? Why did you have to leave your family with this embarrassment?!
The man had spent his entire life being mocked by the people of his territory.
Apparently, he couldn’t even manage a respectable death.
It was my husband.
Bliss’s biological father.
But what could I do now?
The damage was already done.
Silence filled the room.
Come to think of it, Bliss had always been stubborn and proud.
My throat tightened.
Even though I couldn’t understand it myself, I suddenly felt sorry for him.
Yes.
I still hated him.
But I still loved him, too.
Enough to wonder whether he might have lived a better life if neither the Marquis nor I had been his parents.
It was a foolish thought.
But I couldn’t help it.
Ever since the day I met one-year-old Bliss after being kidnapped by the Marquis, I’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.
I remembered it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
The crying baby had stopped sobbing the moment I picked him up.
Then he smiled.
He smelled like milk and sunshine.
And he was warm.
So warm that I forgot my own fear.
Until I finally returned home, Bliss refused to eat or sleep unless he was in my arms.
Back then, Bliss needed me.
And even now, he still does.
That was probably why.
I had no intention of sacrificing myself for him anymore.
But I couldn’t allow him to grow into the same horrible person he had become in my previous life.
I cleared my throat.
“Listen carefully, Bliss. I don’t know who told you that, but your father died from a heart attack. He fell off the horse afterwards.”
“That’s a lie!”
“It’s not.”
“…Really?”
No.
It was a lie.
I’m sorry, Bliss.
The truth is that your father was drunk before he even got on the horse. He kept drinking while riding. Then he fell off because he was drunk. He blamed the horse and kicked it. The angry horse kicked him right back.
The worst part was that people had witnessed the entire thing.
Considering how widely the rumours spread, it wasn’t surprising Bliss had heard them.
Still, as his mother, I had to make his father’s death sound more respectable.
This wasn’t about my husband anymore.
It was about Bliss’s self-esteem.
After all, nothing hurts a child more than hearing one parent insult the other.
Eventually, my persistence wore him down.
Bliss pouted.
“But everyone thinks Dad died pathetically.”
“Then we need to be even more confident.”
“Huh?”
“Because we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Come on. Let’s go say goodbye to your father.”
His blue eyes darted around.
Then he puffed out his cheeks.
“Move. I’ll walk there myself!”
THUD!
He rammed his shoulder into my side and stormed out of the room.
I rubbed the spot where he’d hit me.
The smile I’d forced onto my face twitched.
“My side hurts a little, but at least I convinced him. Ha. Ha. Ha…”
Then my expression cracked.
“LIKE HELL I’M HAPPY!”
That brat!
Always using violence!
“He really did inherit his father’s temper!”
I barely resisted the urge to grab him by the neck and flick him on the forehead.
My fist was practically crying from the effort.
To make a long story short, Bliss and I attended the funeral service together.
What’s more, Bliss behaved surprisingly well.
He greeted the guests who came to pay their respects alongside me.
He was genuinely making an effort.
And that wasn’t even the most shocking part.
Inside the Arista banquet hall, which had been converted into a chapel, Bliss sat in the very front row nearest the priest.
Then he started sniffling.
Unlike me, who merely dabbed at my dry eyes with a handkerchief, Bliss was genuinely crying.
After making such a fuss about not attending, he’s behaving himself now.
A bitter feeling settled in my chest.
Bliss… forty-five years later, did you cry at my funeral, too? Did you regret poisoning me even a little?
The question made my head spin.
But I forced myself to stay focused.
I knew all too well what waited at the end of blindly sacrificing myself for my son.
So stop feeling sorry for yourself and pay attention to the funeral.
More importantly, this was my chance to say goodbye to the late Marquis one more time.
Silently, I shouted the words I’d kept buried for decades.
You absolute disaster of a man! This is why you should’ve known when to stop fooling around! How badly did you live your life to get banned from holding a proper funeral at the Grand Temple?!
Normally, noble funerals were held in the Grand Temple of the family’s religion.
Not this one.
The temple had refused to host the Marquis’s funeral because of his terrible reputation and embarrassing death.
So I’d stolen three gold candlesticks from my husband’s room.
Those candlesticks were now sitting comfortably in the priest’s pocket.
We couldn’t exactly have a funeral without a priest.
Besides, I didn’t have the key to the family treasury.
Anyway, the fact that I’d essentially bribed a priest would later become one of the many things people mocked Bliss and me for after we were thrown out of the family.
But not this time.
Not because I was suddenly proud of bribing priests.
Because this time, we’re never getting thrown out.
Just wait.
This time, nobody would laugh at Bliss and me.
Confidence surged through me.
Naturally.
No matter how terrible things got, a mother with a child depending on her could do anything.
And now..
It was finally time to inherit the late Marquis of Arista’s estate.
