Chapter 124

“It’ll be easy if you step in. We just need to buy some time. If we take back our heirloom from him, we can use it as collateral to extend the loan deadline. In the meantime, I’ll clear up the misunderstanding with your brother-in-law…”

“How do you plan on clearing that ‘misunderstanding’?”

Blake knew well—almost all the rumors about Grace were true.

It was true that she kept Lisi close since childhood and treated her like a servant to fulfill her greed.
It was true she used her, and later threw away her old companion when marriage drew near.
So where exactly was the misunderstanding?

The Marquis of Ingram had never misunderstood anything. Only now had the truth come to light.

Blake said quietly:

“Everything is true. What misunderstanding is there to clear?”

“Blake!”

Grace lunged at him in fury, scratching with her nails, but Blake pushed her away easily.

“Do you know, sis? About Grandmother’s heirloom? Father had it all along. Yes, the heirloom you always wanted. The one Grandmother left to Florence.”

“What?”

“Why do you think Father never told you, even though he knew how much you wanted it?”

Grace turned to her father. The Marquis of Seymour frowned, trying to silence his son.

“Blake, don’t say useless things.”

“You’re not a Seymour anymore once you marry, but I’m the heir. Heirlooms can’t be passed outside the family. He promised you could have whatever you wanted, but not that.”

In truth, Blake never cared about inheritance. It was Grace, the eldest, who was obsessed with the family’s legacy.

“See? Even now he whispers to me about the heirloom, hiding it from you.”

“Father! You had it all this time?”

“Grace…”

The Marquis held his nose bridge, frustrated by her hysterical screams. He glared at Blake.

“It was sealed inside a box only Florence could open. Useless without her.”

“But you hid it from Grace, afraid she might take it, didn’t you?”

“That’s nonsense.”

“Is it?”

“That heirloom belongs to the Seymour family. From the start it was yours, Blake, to pass to your children. Not Grace’s, not Florence’s. Grace knows this well.”

Blake laughed. His father didn’t understand Grace at all.

“Sis thinks everything in this house is hers, Father. You really don’t know?”

“Blake.”

“You supported her even after all the terrible things she’s done, blinded by her greed.”

Blake frowned.
“…Of course, you raised me the same way too.”

Yes, he had lived comfortably as a Seymour. He also pushed Florence away to find a sense of belonging.

“Father, you made Grace this way. Who else is there to blame?”

“It was Florence who ruined everything.”

“Which Florence? The original? Or the one who acted sweet and kind later?”

“…So you’ve realized.”

“Either way, sis is like this because of her own actions, not Florence.”

The Marquis smirked.

“So you met Florence. No wonder you never returned home.”

“….”

“Did she resent you? Did she accuse you of pretending not to know?”

“….”

“If we raised her instead of throwing her out, she should be grateful. What right does she have to resent us?”

Blake sighed. His father was no different from Grace. Both refused to admit their wrongs.

Grace suddenly screamed.

“Yes, it’s all Florence’s fault!”

Her voice cracked into hysteria. The Marquis rushed to calm her.

“That brat ruined everything the moment she was born! The heirloom was mine! Mother and Father were mine too!”

Blake sneered coldly.

“Grandmother gave it to Florence. Father wants to give it to me. Sis, it was never going to be yours.”

“It’s mine! Mine! It’s mine!”

She repeated the words like someone who’d lost her mind.

Blake shook his head.

“Grandmother loved Florence most. Mother loved Father most. Father may love you most, sis—but even he won’t give you the heirloom or the family legacy.”

“Blake, stop!”

“Your husband was fooled by your fake charms. Your son doesn’t know who you really are. Tell me, sis, of all the things you claim as yours—what do you truly have?”

Nothing.

“Blake!”

“You laughed at Florence, called her disgusting. But did you ever think how disgusting we were?”

He hated himself too.

They had always believed—if only Florence disappeared, the family would be happy. They bound themselves together in hatred of her. And Blake, fool that he was, had believed that meant they were a warm and loving family.

But now he saw the truth.

A family that laughs while tormenting the weakest member… that’s not a family.

It was a pack of selfish fools. Himself included.

Grace screamed louder. The Marquis clung to her side, but Blake turned away.

If Father wouldn’t throw her out, then Blake would leave instead.

The Marquis grabbed him in desperation.

“Blake! You must help us!”

“….”

“Both Grace and I are cursed by that brat! We can’t use magic!”

“Do you have proof Florence cursed you?”

“Of course!”

“Or is it because you know you deserved her hatred, that you think it must be her?”

“You’ve been brainwashed by her! Your family is here with us!”

“Brainwashing…?”

It was Grace who had brainwashed everyone, Blake thought.

“If she truly cursed you out of hatred, then I can’t help you even more. I barely managed to beg for forgiveness. I don’t dare risk her hating me again.”

“So you’ll abandon us?”

Grace shrieked, raving about her son, her husband, her dignity as a magician.

Blake thought bitterly, What nonsense.

Compared to Florence—who had no magic, no talent—Grace and Blake had always been considered geniuses. But outside the family, they were ordinary. Just another pair of average magicians. Nothing special.

If Grace were truly exceptional, the Royal Magic Society wouldn’t have pushed her into early retirement after marriage. They would have made her stay, supporting her career. But no—they had gladly let her step down.

Yet Grace still believed she was extraordinary. She thought the Magic Society would welcome her back with open arms anytime.

It was delusion.

The Marquis pressed again.

“The loans are frozen, the repayments due. The banks will take everything. Look at Grace—she needs treatment, and that costs money. Without magic, I can’t even work. If you leave us now, we’ll starve.”

Blake admitted—he too had sinned. But at least he was ready to apologize to Florence for life, if only she let him.

But he could not apologize for Grace’s or Father’s sins.

“Abandon you? Father, Grace is your daughter. Isn’t it your duty to take responsibility for her?”

After all, Blake hadn’t raised her.

“…You always said she was the best, didn’t you? Then she’s all you need.”

Blake said firmly:

“I won’t get dragged into this and inherit your grudges. I’ll pack my things today. From now on, you take care of Grace.”

That was the Seymour way—cutting off the weak when convenient, blaming others.

Blake brushed off his father’s hand and straightened his wrinkled coat.

Mother, I live for the children Monica left me.
For them, I’ll do anything.

And now, his path was clear.