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Chapter 09
Anne felt wronged. The butler had merely called a physician as requested, carried out the examination, and ensured she could rest afterward.
There had been no situation that could be misinterpreted.
But people inevitably see others through the lens of themselves.
A narrow perspective and limited thinking twisted Gray’s affection for Anne into suspicion and dissatisfaction.
Because he had abandoned her for another woman. Because he had taken another woman’s hand in place of his wife. Because he had spent nights with someone other than his spouse.
Gray could not help but transform the warmth Anne shared with the servant into nothing more than temptation.
“Is that child really mine?”
“How can you even say something so absurd?”
Anne had believed that once the child was born, Gray would return to her side as a husband.
But she realized too late that hope had been in vain.
“But I barely even visit you. Isn’t it suspicious that you suddenly became pregnant?”
A cold, harsh voice devoid of affection cut through the air above her.
Standing before Anne, who protected her swollen belly, Gray Benton, the duke, no longer hid his irritation or sharp hostility.
“No… no… Gray. I only have you.”
You know it. Life as the Duchess of Benton was no different from being trapped in isolation within the ducal estate.
Since becoming his wife, she could count the number of times she had gone outside on one hand. And even those were from the days when Gray’s affection still burned strongly.
After losing one child, before the second could even take root, the authority of the dowager duchess had completely clouded Gray’s judgment.
He no longer listened to Anne. He no longer looked into her eyes.
Anne frowned tightly, like someone trapped in a nightmare.
Holding onto a love that had already disappeared was like clinging to a dried husk and expecting it to sprout again.
“Behave properly as the Duchess.”
Frustration, resentment, injustice, and sorrow surged in her chest as if it would burst.
The overwhelming emotions even seemed to suffocate the child in her womb, who kicked violently in response.
“Ah.”
Anne clutched her lower abdomen and leaned against the wall. Gray, seeing this, slightly softened his gaze and approached her.
The Benton ducal mansion was vast enough that even a hundred people could run around inside. Even on days without parties, dozens of servants maintained the estate. Yet Anne had no one she could trust.
No one to reach out to her.
Only Gray Benton had ever been truly on her side. At least, he had been.
“Are you alright?”
Perhaps because she was carrying his child—or perhaps simply because he could not ignore a sick person—he offered that single sentence. And Anne clung to the hand he extended with both arms as if holding onto her entire world.
She latched onto him desperately.
“I have no one but you, Gray Benton.”
“I had no one else.”
Even if he met others, slept with others, she had no right to complain. She had no choice but to accept him as her only option.
She had no opportunity.
“Sob…”
She looked up at him with pleading eyes, but his gaze held only pity and sympathy.
For Gray, the emotions Anne carried were long relegated to distant memories.
Even knowing this, she refused to close her eyes.
Anne was the Duchess, and she carried Gray Benton’s child.
After being told by the physician to be careful due to signs of preterm labor, Anne lived in extreme caution toward others.
She even refused one-sided conversations with the dowager duchess and kept only a minimal number of attendants, never stepping outside her room.
Even so, malice and intent to harm did not miss even the smallest gap.
Crash—
“Oh my goodness! Madam—!”
It was one of the rare brief moments when Anne stepped out to use the restroom.
By chance, a servant carrying a large tray with a steaming teapot crossed her path.
The odds of such a coincidence?
She had thought she could avoid it—but the servant, pretending to pass by, shoved Anne.
As she clutched her heavy belly, she felt warmth and wetness between her thighs.
“No… no… nooo!”
Anne screamed, instinctively hugging her belly. The ceiling above the Benton estate spun in her vision.
Were they laughing? Were they watching?
Servants, maids, and behind them the mocking presence of the dowager duchess seemed to echo.
Beyond her fading consciousness, fear and despair spread through her entire body.
“Can you hear me?”
When she opened her eyes again, she heard a man’s voice she did not recognize.
She had no strength to move even a finger.
Through blurred vision, she saw a young servant who looked younger than her wiping her forehead with a towel.
“Who… are you?”
“The Dowager Duchess ordered me to attend to you overnight. The others said they were busy.”
The man, with a fairly gentle face, spoke calmly.
She had no strength to respond. Something like soup was brought to her lips, but it spilled back out. She drifted in and out of consciousness.
“Where is the baby—my baby?”
As soon as she regained a bit of awareness, that was the first thing she asked, clutching her hollow belly.
Just then, the physician arrived. Anne looked at him desperately.
“You lost a lot of blood, Madam. You must rest.”
“The baby?”
The physician’s face turned pale.
“The fetus did not survive.”
“No!”
Anne tried to stand abruptly.
A tearing pain shot through her lower body. Her abdomen was still raw from the procedure to remove the stillborn fetus.
The servant supporting her quickly held her arms.
“Looks like you’ve come to your senses.”
Gray arrived after hearing the news.
“My child—Gray, where is my child?”
Her belly was empty, but she kept clutching it as if trying to fill the void in her heart.
“Your child is gone, Anne.”
He had only just come to see her after days away, yet his voice was full of sharp hostility rather than concern.
“……Gray?”
“My child? You can’t be sure until it’s born, can you?”
With the child gone, Anne could no longer endure.
“Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do—”
“Ask your little servant next to you. You picked him yourself, didn’t you? You know better.”
Anne turned her head sharply.
The calm-faced young servant was a stranger to her. She had only accepted care because she had been too weak to refuse.
“I knew you liked younger men. I was foolish to suspect the butler, then.”
It was nothing but spite and projection.
The dowager duchess had planted the young servant beside Anne while she was unconscious, then whispered suggestions to Gray.
Gray, busy and rarely at home, would come only briefly to sleep or change clothes.
The dowager duchess used those gaps.
Gray, already distant from Anne, had no intention of defending her. He used her as a shield for his own doubts.
By projecting suspicion onto Anne, he justified himself.
Leaving behind contempt and disgust, Gray left the room.
At the same time, Anne’s scream erupted.
“Get out. Get out now!!”
She hurled whatever she could grab at the young servant, who fled in panic.
“You must not move, Madam,” the physician tried to stop her, but she did not listen.
She staggered out into the hallway.
Gray was standing there.
Her breath was ragged. Each step reopened healing wounds.
Every step was pain. Every breath was agony.
How could you do this to me?
The man who once took her hand when her family abandoned her.
The one who kept the fireplace burning through winter nights.
The one who once did everything for her.
How could he do this?
She wiped away her tears.
And then she cried again.
