THE FAKE LADY AND THE PASTRY SHOP 

The carriage sped through the night.

It wasn’t until we were hundreds of miles away from the capital, floating on a boat, that I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Over the past few years, the Celine restaurant chain had covered all regions. I planned to take Mia to the Western Territory for a vacation.

The plan was perfect. However, when I saw Maximilian—who was supposed to be in the capital—standing solidly on the boat, the smile on my lips vanished.

“Where are you going? Didn’t you promise to explain things to me?”

He was talking and smiling, but I felt a chill run down my spine. As my consciousness gradually blurred, I realized his usually gentle smile now carried a bizarre and insane edge.

 I never thought I would be imprisoned by Maximilian.

I had no idea where he took Mia. On the journey back to the capital under his custody, he monitored me strictly, never leaving my side for a step, terrified I would find a chance to escape.

Back in the capital, the confinement became even stricter.

I felt Maximilian had definitely gone crazy.

He no longer maintained his dignified, rule-abiding facade. Now, he frequently got hands-on with me.

Even after several failed escape attempts, he shamelessly moved in to sleep with me at night.

I was mad with anger, but no matter how much I cursed or bit him, he remained indifferent.

“Our wedding will be held at the end of this month. Stop wasting your energy. I already told you, you can only stay by my side.”

The man hugged my waist tightly, intimately kissing my earlobe.

“It’s useless to be angry or hate me. You provoked me first…”

The dense kisses made me ticklish. I laughed out of sheer anger, yet felt incredibly helpless.

“Maximilian, how many times do I have to say it for you to believe that Mia really isn’t your daughter?”

His movements paused slightly, but the next second he continued dropping kisses: “Not mine? Then tell me, who is her father?”

“Her father is dead.”

“Oh, then I’ll be her stepfather. I don’t mind.”

…

It was obvious he intentionally refused to believe it…

 I went on a hunger strike in protest.

I didn’t expect Maximilian to be even more ruthless. Holding out for two days, looking at my pale face, he said with an extremely malicious tone: “If you don’t eat, I don’t mind chewing and feeding you mouth-to-mouth.”

Seeing he seemed serious, I obediently picked up the bowl and ate.

However, he also made a concession, taking me out of the manor for a walk and allowing me to see Mia.

Unexpectedly, in just a few days, rumors of my impending marriage to Maximilian had spread all over the capital’s streets. The Duke’s family had also agreed.

I didn’t know how he managed to convince them.

While resting at a teahouse, a procession of the Count’s female relatives being escorted to exile passed by.

I looked down from the second floor, coincidentally catching Vivian’s eye as she sat in the prison cart.

When she saw me, along with Maximilian and Mia standing beside me, her shocked eyes flashed with intense hatred and resentment. She glared at me; if looks could kill, I probably would have been chopped into a hundred pieces by her.

I gave her a provocative smile in return.

She was so enraged she fainted right on the spot.

“Did you intentionally bring me here today to see this?”

Maximilian ignored my attitude and held my hand: “How is it? Are you satisfied?”

I looked at him, puzzled.

“That year, she intentionally jumped into the lake to frame you, causing her whole family to force you to leave the Count’s manor empty-handed.”

He hadn’t finished, but hearing this, I immediately remembered his fawning attitude toward Vivian that day.

“Didn’t the Duke like Vivian very much back then? What’s the meaning of this now? Do you men change your minds so quickly?”

“That is quite an injustice. I never liked her. The day of her welcome banquet, I went because she threw a smoke screen, making me think she was the person from that night. I went to find her just to confirm.”

So that was the story?

I was a bit surprised.

“But I truly didn’t know you were chased out of the manor that day. By the time I found out the truth, you had already left the capital…”

I frowned. Looking at his face full of regret and guilt, an indescribable discomfort arose in my heart.

Rationally speaking, I knew Maximilian didn’t have an omniscient view. He couldn’t know the terrible things that happened to me that year. Even if he knew, he had no obligation to help me. After all, it had always been me unilaterally clinging to him, which caused him great distress.

But from the past until now, he had never made me feel uncomfortable, only maintaining a distant, polite attitude.

“Maximilian, do you like me?”

He paused slightly, then frowned: “Have I not made it clear enough?”

“Why? You didn’t like me before? Why the sudden change?”

He pondered for a moment.

I looked at him: “Is it because of what happened that night, so you feel you have to take responsibility for me?”

“That’s not it…”

“Then what is it?”

The atmosphere fell into silence. He didn’t speak for a long time, and I felt inexplicably frustrated.

“Maximilian, didn’t you want to know what happened that year? I can tell you.”

He looked up.

“That year when I left the capital, I was indeed pregnant. But I miscarried.”

His breath caught, his eyelashes trembling.

I lowered my eyes, my tone indifferent: “I went to find the Vane family. They chased me away and then informed Vivian that I was pregnant. Vivian sent assassins to hunt me down. I lost the baby while fleeing.”

An icy aura emanated from the person opposite me; Maximilian was trying to suppress his killing intent.

He clenched his fists tightly, his voice hoarse as he tried to remain calm: “Then what about Mia?”

“Her…” I glanced at Mia playing by herself in the corner of the room, “She’s an orphan I picked up from a group of beggars. Her mother entrusted her to me before she died.”

Maximilian’s breathing seemed to stop. He looked at me, intense emotions swirling in his eyes. He wanted to ask something, but the words were choked in his throat.

I gave him a look: “Let’s go back!”

Smart as he was, he certainly guessed the information I had hidden.

If Mia was among beggars, how could I know her, or her mother? Unless I myself had lived rough among those beggars.