Back in the room, Jonathan followed closely behind me. "Lana, are you angry with me?" he asked, his voice soft yet probing.

I felt a wave of bitterness rise in my chest, so thick I couldn’t bring myself to respond. My silence only seemed to irritate him. His tone shifted, tinged with frustration, as he said, "Lana, I know I’ve wronged you, but please—think about me and the Bridgerton Family..."

His words hung in the air, but they felt empty. I remained quiet, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but instead of addressing his plea, I asked calmly, "Do you want me to give up the position of the main wife?" My voice was cold, distant.

Then, I added the question that had been haunting me, my tone sharp, "The child... he looks big. How old is he?"

Jonathan's face stiffened and instead of answering, he slammed the door and stormed out of the room.

It was the first time we had quarreled so bitterly, the first time I had felt such an ugly rift between us. I had always believed our love was built on trust, but now I wondered when he had started to betray me.

Not long after, Roma, my ever-reliable cousin, helped me uncover the truth.

It all began four years ago. Jonathan had been sent south to help control the floods. During his time there, he rescued a woman, Wendy Hilton, who was living among the common folk. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he fell in love. The details of their story, the way he heroically saved her, felt like a cruel parody of my own life, a bitter satire.

Wendy became pregnant and before long, she gave birth to their child. Jonathan arranged for them to live in a secluded courtyard outside the city, hiding them away like secrets he couldn’t bear to share. I stared at the letter in my hands, my eyes lingering on the name of the courtyard: William Jonas— "Pearls and Jade Garden." The name was painfully fitting. They were his pearls and jade, his most treasured possessions, hidden away from the world.

But fate had other plans. A short while ago, Wendy’s residence had been discovered by accident and it was then that Jonathan learned she wasn’t just a common woman—she was Princess Hilton, a royal living in disguise. Now that the truth was out, Jonathan couldn’t keep her hidden any longer. How could he, when his lover was a princess?

So, he brought her and their child into our home, no longer needing to pretend.

It wasn’t long after that Princess Hilton sought me out herself.

When she entered my home, her wide, innocent eyes shone with a dewy mist, like a lost fawn seeking refuge. There was a fragile beauty about her, one that seemed to inspire pity in those around her. She walked into the room with an air of gentle grace and the servants, quick to show deference to her royal status, led her to the main seat.

I, the mistress of the Marquis's Mansion, the wife of Jonathan, could only stand by her side in silence, watching this absurd spectacle unfold. How ironic that the princess, my husband’s mistress, would take my place in my own home.

Her eyes fluttered demurely as she raised her hand to brush her fingertips over her eyebrows—eyebrows that I recognized immediately. They were delicately drawn with Persian snail-shaped black ink, the same rare kind Jonathan had gone to great lengths to procure for me. He had struggled to find even two shades of the ink and I had foolishly believed he had given one to a colleague.

But now I saw the truth clearly. He had saved it, treasured it, not for me, but for her. For the woman he had hidden and cherished these last four years.

The weight of it all crashed down on me, the absurdity of my ignorance pressing on my chest. How had I not realized it before? How had I been so blind to the distance growing between us, to the fact that my husband had fallen for another?

Before I could speak, Princess Hilton had already lowered her head, her expression filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, I’m truly sorry for you," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don’t worry, once I marry Jonathan, I’ll live in the princess's mansion. You can treat everything as it was before."

I kept my eyes down, remaining silent. Everything as before? How could she say it so lightly? Did she really believe that my life would go on unchanged while she and her son took their rightful place in Jonathan’s world?

Seeing that I didn’t respond, she moved closer to me, her delicate hand reaching out to gently tug at my sleeve. Her eyes, red like those of a distressed rabbit, shimmered with unshed tears. "Lana," she pleaded softly, "I just want to give my son a home..."

I pulled my arm back sharply. The sudden motion caused her to lose her balance and she swayed slightly on her feet. Just then, a maid entered the room and reported that Jonathan had arrived.

When he entered, his eyes immediately fell on Princess Hilton, who was still unsteady. He only saw her as she began to fall and she looked up at him with those same pitiful eyes, calling out, “Jonathan...” Her voice was filled with such grievance.

Without hesitation, Jonathan rushed forward, crouching down to carefully help her up. His movements were tender and caring, the way they had once been for me. The concern in his eyes was painfully familiar, but now it was directed at her.

"Wendy, why are you sitting on the ground?" he murmured, his tone soft and full of affection. "The floor is cold, get up quickly."

"My dear Jonathan," she said, resting her hand on his arm, "don’t blame your wife. I didn’t sleep all night and I was feeling lightheaded... I must have lost my balance."

Jonathan’s face tightened with concern at her words. He bent down and scooped her into his arms, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. "I’ll take you back to the mansion," he said, turning to leave.

"Husband!" I called out, my voice sharp. "The princess is not married yet. If you take her away like this, won’t it damage the royal family’s reputation?"

He paused for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he barked orders to the servants. "Prepare the sedan chair!" He spoke with the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

It was only then that he seemed to notice me. Seeing the hardness in my tone, Jonathan placed the princess on the sedan chair, his anger barely concealed. The servants moved quickly, ushering her away, leaving the room feeling colder than it had before.

"Lana..." Jonathan began, stepping toward me.

"Are you blaming me for bullying her?" I asked, my voice cutting through the tension in the room.

Jonathan sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly. "I know you’re not that kind of woman," he said softly, "how could I bear to blame you?" His tone was soothing, but the disconnection between his words and his actions was jarring.

His gaze, tender as it was, felt foreign now. Though his eyes looked at me the same way they always had, everything had changed. I felt a strange sense of loss, as if I were watching the last remnants of my old life slip away before me.

My tough words from earlier faded, replaced by a softer plea. "Why did you hide it from me?"

He hesitated before responding, his voice deep and measured. "I was afraid of hurting you," he said finally. "If it hadn’t come to this, I would never have let her appear before you."

He frowned slightly, as if he truly believed he had done no wrong. To him, it seemed that fate had simply forced his hand, turning the concubine he once tried to shield from me into a princess who could no longer be hidden.

His innocence felt like another blow. He was the same Jonathan who had promised me the world, yet the reality we lived in was one of betrayal. It wasn’t just the royal titles or societal norms that separated us—it was the fact that I was no longer the center of his world.

And despite his apologies and explanations, I knew there was no going back.

Jonathan stepped forward, his arms wrapping around me as he whispered in my ear, "Lana, she will only have a name, I promise. I only have you in my heart!" His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I was just hindered by her identity, you know... The dignity of the royal family cannot be compromised."

His warm breath grazed my ear, yet despite his words of comfort, my body trembled. Deep down, I knew he was right according to the rules of this world. To others, he was a loyal husband, a man caught in an unfortunate circumstance. He had indulged me, given me everything within his power. If I demanded more, I’d be seen as unreasonable—greedy, even.

***

Half a month later, Princess Hilton, fresh from her return to the court, hosted an Apricot Blossom Banquet, inviting all the noblewomen. The invitation in my hand was a clear message: I had to attend, even though I knew this was no ordinary gathering. It was a grand Banquet, a trap disguised as hospitality.

At the banquet, the air buzzed with sycophantic praises for the princess. Each woman seized the chance to ingratiate herself, using me as a pawn in their game of flattery.

"Madam Bridgerton, you should be grateful for the princess's kindness. If it were anyone else, you’d be divorced by now!" one of the women said smugly.

"Indeed! How fortunate you are to call the princess your sister," another added, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

They continued, relentless in their jabs. "Soon, the princess and her husband will live in the royal mansion and Madam Bridgerton will have plenty of free time."

Their words felt like sharp knives, each one aiming to diminish my worth. They spoke as though I was an afterthought, as if I no longer belonged in my own life.

"We’ve been so kind to remind her," someone chimed in. "Why hasn’t Madam Bridgerton expressed her gratitude?"

The whispers grew louder. "How can she be so at ease as the madam of the Bridgerton Family? Five years of marriage and still no child! Not only can she not bear a child, but she also fails to care for her husband properly..."

The insults came one after another, each more cutting than the last. I became the center of their scorn, a target for all to criticize. And Princess Hilton, sitting there with an air of hesitancy, seemed to relish in my humiliation. Her enjoyment was thinly veiled behind her delicate demeanor.

Two of her maids approached me, their faces cold and unfeeling. One of them pressed me down, forcing me to kneel before the princess. I stood tall, my pride refusing to give way. I wouldn't kneel.

The princess, surprised by my defiance, quickly put on a different face. She rose to her feet and hurried over, making a show of helping me up. "What are you doing?" she asked, feigning concern. "Madam Bridgerton entered the household before me and it’s I who should offer tea to her." She smiled, but there was something almost mocking in the gesture.

She grabbed a teacup, pressing it into my hand. The hot liquid spilled over, scalding my skin. Instinctively, I jerked my hand away and the teacup fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Every eye turned toward me, the tension thick enough to suffocate.

"Lana! What are you doing?" Jonathan's voice boomed across the room, breaking the stillness. He stepped forward, his expression stern. "My humble wife behaved inappropriately and offended the princess. I hope Your Highness will forgive her." His tone was measured, but it was clear he was cleaning up my mess, positioning himself as the mediator.

He turned to me, his voice more commanding this time. "Kneel down and apologize to the princess."

"Kneel down, quickly!" someone in the crowd shouted, echoing his demand.

Jonathan reached out, gripping my arm firmly. His strength was overwhelming and despite my efforts, I couldn’t resist. He pulled me down, forcing me to kneel. The impact of my knees hitting the floor sent a sharp pain through my body and I felt something inside me shatter—whether it was the teacup or my pride, I couldn't tell.