Chapter 40: The Husband Returns
A recall order was issued for Demian.
The official reason given was his wife’s deteriorating health.
The real reason?
The family scandal had erupted into major headlines, causing an uproar in the capital. He was ordered to return immediately and clean up the mess.
Having already packed his belongings—just as Aracilla had instructed in her letter—Demian left for the capital the moment the order arrived.
Her prediction had been correct.
He was returning earlier than planned.
But considering the reason, he couldn’t say he was pleased about it.
On his way back, Demian read a newspaper his subordinate had procured.
The events at the Hounds estate tea party were described in sensationalized detail.
“Starved. Beaten. Forced to work.”
She did it all—just like she did to me when I was a child.
His usually firm lips twisted in irritation. He nearly crumpled the newspaper in his hands.
Demian knew this was all part of Aracilla’s plan.
The mere fact that she had warned him to prepare for an early return in her letter was proof enough.
She had laid a trap for the Grand Madam—
And, as part of that, she had forced his return as well.
Half of what was written in the article was likely exaggerated.
And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t calm down.
His heart pounded in a strange, uncomfortable way.
What is this feeling?
Was he seriously worried about another person ending up like him?
Or worse—was he feeling sympathy for Aracilla, as if she had suffered the same childhood torment he had?
No. There’s no way she went through exactly what I did. I was only a child back then—that’s the only reason she could do it to me.
Rationally, Demian knew that the Grand Madam couldn’t have treated Aracilla exactly the same way she had treated him.
Forcing a child to endure such things was far easier than doing so to an adult woman.
He unfolded the newspaper again and scanned the article more carefully.
His golden eyes landed on one particular line.
“Lady Vandermeer collapsed, her complexion pale as a brittle autumn leaf settling onto dry earth.”
—Was she really that sick?
A fleeting image of her slender nape, delicate wrists, and thin waist flashed through his mind.
Her reckless personality was completely at odds with her frail appearance.
Because of that, he had no idea if she was truly unwell or just faking it.
…Not sympathy. Just concern.
Realizing he was actually worried that she might really be sick, Demian ran a hand over his face and let out a sigh.
When had he become such a sentimental person?
He reached for the carriage window, opened it, and called out to his subordinate.
“From now on, we ride without rest. Get to the capital as fast as possible.”
In the rigid world of noble society, a married woman was expected to become part of her husband’s family.
Upon marriage, a bride was considered a newcomer to the household.
Meanwhile, her mother-in-law or grandmother-in-law—who would eventually pass down her role as the household matriarch—became her superior.
To preserve the existing hierarchy, the superior would subject the newcomer to harsh training, breaking her down with relentless discipline.
Tears were shed, pride was crushed, and heads were bowed in submission.
Then, as time passed and the newcomer bore children and gained experience, she would inherit the position of authority.
Eventually, she, too, would welcome a new bride into the household and repeat the process.
In short—
Every noblewoman had once suffered through the same ordeal.
That was why many nobles sympathized with Aracilla in her conflict with the Grand Madam.
“I went through the same thing when I was young… but this time, it’s too much.”
Moreover, the exaggerated rumors about the Grand Madam’s cruelty made it seem as though she had crossed a line.
And the more people believed she had gone too far, the stronger their pity for Aracilla grew.
“That poor young bride—how much suffering has she endured?”
When Aracilla collapsed at the tea party and continued to remain bedridden for days, public sympathy only intensified.
“Ugh, when is Demian finally coming?”
The truth?
Aracilla had long since recovered.
But she deliberately remained in bed, pretending to be ill.
“Audrey, where is Demian now?”
She asked the only person who knew about her act.
She couldn’t drop the act until her husband arrived.
“Last I heard, he’s moving faster than expected. He just passed the eastern city walls. He should arrive by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh, really? Then I should send a letter to my sister, asking her to bring my mother for a visit.”
The Hugo household was in chaos over the news reports.
Her mother had wanted to rush to the capital immediately, but Iris had managed to hold her back.
Now that things had escalated this far, Aracilla wanted to use the opportunity to strengthen her family’s support by showing that her relationship with Demian was stable.
But for that to happen—
Her family had to arrive after Demian, not before.
Most importantly, Demian needed to be the one to officially expel the Grand Madam.
“If I force her out myself, it might be seen as disrespectful. But if her own grandson does it, no one will question it.”
Despite the uproar she had caused, the Grand Madam was still staying at the Vandermeer estate.
And Aracilla had deliberately refrained from forcing her out.
“It has to be Demian who delivers the final blow.”
She wanted to ensure that never again would the Grand Madam dare set foot in her home.
Finally, on the day of Demian’s arrival, Aracilla lifted the restriction on visitors.
She planned to publicly show affection toward her husband, making it clear that there was no conflict between them.
“Ah… I should have told Demian to bring a bouquet when he arrived.”
The thought struck her belatedly, and she reached for her magic carrier pigeon to send him a message.
Knock, knock.
Someone knocked at the door.
Thinking it was her sister or mother, Aracilla immediately called out—
“Come in.”
However—
The person who entered was not her sister.
Not her mother.
And not even Demian.
It was—
The Grand Madam of Vandermeer.
The Grand Madam had spent the past few days in utter humiliation.
Never in her life had she suffered such disgrace.
For decades, she had ruled high society as a powerful noblewoman, but within mere days, her reputation crumbled.
For the first time in her life, she found herself attacked by the press.
“Do these people even know who I am?! How dare they insult me!”
Yet, as the aggressor, she couldn’t even defend herself.
If she showed anger, the newspapers would publish new headlines mocking her—
“Grand Madam Vandermeer: Does She Suffer from an Uncontrollable Rage Disorder?”
“I can’t return to the duchy like this. I have to fix everything!”
Grinding her teeth in frustration, she decided she would hold Aracilla accountable for everything.
However—
The moment the scandal broke, Aracilla had locked herself in her room, claiming illness.
She refused to speak with the Grand Madam.
And if the Grand Madam forced her way in, the maids would block her path—
Worse, if she tried anything, even more rumors would spread.
In the end, the Grand Madam endured her boiling rage, feeling as if it might melt her from the inside, and waited for Aracilla to finally leave her seclusion.
The moment she heard that Aracilla had opened her doors to visitors, she rushed over immediately.
The maid guarding the room had been lured away by the Grand Madam’s own attendants, allowing her to enter without difficulty.
“……”
“……”
A heavy silence filled the air.
The Grand Madam swept her gaze over Aracilla with sharp eyes.
“Hah. I knew it.”
Because of the muted makeup, Aracilla still looked pale and unwell.
However, the Grand Madam refused to believe it.
To her, the fact that Aracilla was sitting upright on the sofa proved that she had already fully recovered.
And in truth, she wasn’t wrong.
Aracilla was perfectly fine.
“You’ve been healthy for days, haven’t you? Were you just lazing around in your room?”
To be falsely accused out of nowhere was enough to annoy anyone.
Aracilla frowned slightly.
“That’s not true, Grand Madam.”
“Silence!”
The Grand Madam snapped.
“Never in my life have I seen someone as vile and cunning as you! You dared to humiliate me in front of everyone?!”
Thanks to the maids’ rumors being turned into headlines, the Grand Madam’s reputation had plummeted.
Now, she was portrayed as an envious old woman, tormenting her young and beautiful granddaughter-in-law.
For decades, she had stood above others like a goddess on a cloud.
Now, the moment she had fallen to the ground, the journalists had swarmed her like vultures.
The respect she once commanded in high society was shattered overnight.
She had tried to use House Vandermeer’s power to pressure the newspapers into silence.
But for some strange reason, a few publications refused to comply.
As a result, follow-up articles disguised as gossip continued to pour out.
And so, filled with venom, the Grand Madam had come to confront Aracilla.
Because to her—
This was all Aracilla’s fault.
“If I were truly your grandmother, do you think I would have thrown a purple violet in front of everyone?”
Aracilla met her gaze calmly and directly.
“If you were truly my grandmother, you wouldn’t have sent me an invitation with a violet secretly stamped on it.”
Her blue eyes, just as they had been on the first day, were sharp and full of life.
They did not belong to someone who had been beaten down by hardship.
“How dare you talk back to me?!”
The Grand Madam exploded.
“Because of you, House Vandermeer’s reputation has been damaged beyond repair! Even if we paid a hundred million gold, it wouldn’t be enough to fix it!”
And whose fault is that?
You brought this upon yourself.
Aracilla bit back her words.
She no longer needed to act submissive to the Grand Madam.
But it still wasn’t the right time to fully reveal her true colors.
“I will keep this short!”
The Grand Madam, having barely regained her composure, declared sternly—
“I will arrange a formal meeting where you will explain everything as a misunderstanding. You will say that your imagination got the better of you and that none of this actually happened. Then, you will immediately leave with me for the Vandermeer Duchy.”
Aracilla felt a sharp pain in the back of her head.
Did she seriously expect her to just nod and agree to that?
As she stared at the Grand Madam’s arrogant expression, it became clear—
She still looked down on her.
Aracilla was just about to drop the act and bare her fangs—
“Have you finally lost your mind, Grandmother?”
A low, heavy voice cut through the air.
Even without turning around, Aracilla knew exactly who had arrived.
The shift in the atmosphere.
The change in the Grand Madam’s expression.
The sound of heavy footsteps, steadily approaching.
Finally—
The husband she had been waiting for had returned.
The moment Demian stepped into the estate, the first thing he said was—
“Where is my wife?”
The loyal butler informed him that the lady was in her room.
So, without even changing his clothes, Demian headed there immediately.
Thanks to that, he had walked in just in time to hear the Grand Madam spouting nonsense.
“Why should my wife accompany you to the duchy, Grandmother? Her husband is right here.”
His voice was cold.
Yet even as he addressed his grandmother, his eyes never left Aracilla.
Feeling his intense gaze, Aracilla slowly turned her head.
And just as Demian took a step closer, he froze.
Her eyes glistened faintly, as if tears were about to fall.
“Demian…”
Her soft, trembling voice called his name.
Before he even thought about it, Demian moved.
In just three strides, he reached her and stood in front of her protectively.
The Grand Madam’s expression darkened.
She glared at her grandson and snapped—
“Not even a single greeting for your grandmother? How rude.”
“No ruder than showing up unannounced.”
“Well, if you had kept in touch, I wouldn’t have had to visit. I was simply worried about my grandson.”
She replied shamelessly.
But Demian wasn’t even bothered enough to scoff.
Instead, he simply gazed at her coldly and spoke.
“Leave. Immediately.”
“…What?”
The Grand Madam blinked in disbelief.
Then she let out a short, sharp laugh.
Folding her arms, she lifted her chin arrogantly.
From her, a powerful aura radiated—the presence of someone who had ruled House Vandermeer for decades.
“And what gives you the right to order me out?”
She sneered.
“This house does not belong to you. It belongs to House Vandermeer. Don’t act as if it’s yours.”
Her veiled attempt at excluding him from his own family didn’t affect Demian in the slightest.
He was far too used to such words for them to even sting.
Instead, he deliberately curved his lips into a mocking smile as he met her gaze.
For a moment, the Grand Madam hesitated.
“No matter how much you try to deny it, I am also a Vandermeer.”
His rough, cutting voice scraped against her ears.
“You made me one yourself.
You raised me to be a true Vandermeer—one who stops at nothing to achieve his goals.
So don’t look away now. You created this.”
