AWLITEB Chapter 18

This can't be happening. It's impossible...

Rosalie's vision narrowed. Every pore opened, releasing cold sweat that carved a path down her spine.

Her world was collapsing, shrinking to a single point of impossible reality.

"H-how... how is this..."

Martha finally reached Rosalie's side, voice stumbling.

Rosalie envied her. At least her mother could speak. She couldn't even breathe.

"Your Imperial Majesty honors these humble servants beyond measure by introducing us personally."

Genos's voice carried perfect deference toward Phyke.

Isabella bowed beside him, observing proper etiquette. She wore a dress identical to Rosalie's—same design, same color, same everything.

Phyke smiled like a father blessing his children.

Rosalie's body trembled.

I should be standing on those stairs. Not Isabella—not that lowborn, ugly, filthy thing.

"We humbly ask your sacred blessing before this distinguished company."

Genos looked at Isabella with a soft smile.

Isabella met her fiancé's gaze shyly.

They looked perfect together. The ideal Grand Duke and his bride.

It made Rosalie's stomach turn inside out.

'How dare she stand there? How DARE—'

She clutched Martha's arm to stay upright.

"Rosalie, what's happening?"

Ethan appeared, urgent and confused.

Rosalie turned eyes that threatened to weep blood. She couldn't form words.

"Don't look at me like I'd know."

"God, this is bad. They must have been meeting behind your back."

Ethan's words made Rosalie's jaw clench.

"Brother. Shut. Up."

"It's true, though. And doesn't something feel off? He looks at her with more sincerity than he ever showed you. I think they actually fell in love."

A single fat tear rolled down Rosalie's cheek.

Ethan's hand flew up to cover his laugh. Hah.

Rosalie's lips trembled. Her throat itched, words scraping up like broken glass.

"You don't care about anyone's pain—I know that. But this isn't the time to amuse yourself at my expense."

"What are you talking about?"

"Who beat her bloody in the basement?"

"..."

"If she really becomes Grand Duchess, you're finished too. Is your brain too damaged to figure that out?"

Ethan's amusement finally cracked.

"That timid thing wouldn't tell the Grand Duke what we did."

"How do you know? Look what she just pulled off."

"I, Isabella White of the White Barony, pledge myself in marriage. I declare this sacred truth before His Imperial Majesty."

Genos and Isabella bowed to the assembled guests.

Everyone except the Crown Prince bowed back.

The White family was no exception. They bent stiffly, bodies protesting every degree.

Isabella looked down from the stairs at the bowed heads of her tormentors.

The three demons who'd ruled her life were bowing to her.

Submitting to someone of higher rank.

"This is only the beginning."

Genos whispered against her ear.

Isabella looked up at him.

"Don't you want to see more?"

His whisper was sweeter than chocolate, darker than night.

"They'll beg for their lives. Plead for mercy. Just like you did."

"..."

"Too early to be satisfied."

Genos raised his hand, acknowledging the crowd with gentle grace.

This was foreplay. Genos promising greater pleasures to come, building anticipation for the real feast.

Heat rushed over Isabella's skin like fever.

Genos bowed once more to the Emperor, then descended the stairs with his newly proclaimed fiancée.

People swarmed them, offering congratulations to the empire's most special couple. Meanwhile, others closed around Rosalie.

"Rosalie. What's going on?"

Violet approached, face twisted with confusion.

Ethan slipped away from his sister's side. No point standing near this humiliation.

Martha tried to grab his arm. Ethan shook her off with a disgusted expression and disappeared into the crowd.

"Wait—you're not the Grand Duke's fiancée? Your sister is?"

Elena pushed forward.

Rosalie and Martha stood surrounded by young ladies whose faces broadcast every emotion: betrayal, shock, anger... and unmistakable mockery.

"Oh my god. She's wearing the same dress."

Someone compared Isabella's gown to Rosalie's.

Rosalie's face burned scarlet.

Now everyone saw her as a madwoman who'd tried to steal her sister's position.

Rosalie looked up at Martha with shaking eyes.

But Martha had no clever solution this time. She was just as lost.

"Baroness Martha. Lady Rosalie."

Genos's voice cut through the crowd.

Isabella stood beside him, naturally.

Everyone pretended not to watch while watching intently.

The sisters in identical dresses made for perfect theater.

Some looked at Rosalie with pity—imagining how desperately jealous she must have been to construct such delusions.

Rosalie trembled like a winter tree stripped of leaves. Rage climbed her throat, choking her.

"You haven't recovered yet, I see."

Genos looked at Rosalie with affected sympathy.

His pitying gaze shattered what remained of Rosalie's composure.

Every last thread of hope died.

"Please help my sister-in-law adjust. She seems... unable to let go of incorrect ideas."

Genos took Martha's hand with gentle concern.

Sister-in-law. Incorrect ideas.

He'd just publicly labeled Rosalie delusional in front of everyone who mattered.

The nobles maintained polite distance—eavesdropping on imperial conversations was gauche. But every ear strained to catch the words. That's why they all wore those shocked expressions now.

"Your Grace, surely there's been some mistake? This can't be right."

Rosalie grabbed Genos's sleeve desperately.

The watching crowd stirred like disturbed water.

"I-Isabella?"

Rosalie's smile looked wrong—stretched too tight, like a fish on a hook.

"This is insane. You know it is. Something went wrong, didn't it? Some kind of accident?"

Her eyes shook with fear and desperation.

Isabella decided to remember this expression forever. Then she spoke.

"Rosalie, I'm sorry."

Rosalie nodded eagerly.

'Yes, Isabella. You stupid, wicked thing. Fix this nightmare. NOW.'

"I really am sorry, but... could I have the necklace back?"

Isabella asked carefully.

Rosalie's jaw dropped.

Genos bit his lower lip to keep from laughing.

Even without prompting, Isabella had found her own jewelry.

"How... how could you... do this... to me?"

Rosalie stammered, voice breaking with betrayal.

Martha acted faster.

She unclasped the necklace from Rosalie's throat without hesitation.

Rosalie grabbed at her bare neck and stared at her mother.

"Mother!"

"Rose."

Martha's warning carried weight like a gravestone.

Rosalie felt the world stop spinning.

"Forgive the rudeness. My failure—I couldn't persuade my daughter properly."

Martha bowed and extended the necklace.

"Not at all. There's nothing to forgive."

Genos accepted it matter-of-factly and fastened it around Isabella's neck.

The heavy diamonds caught light against her skin, brilliant and perfect.

"We have many people to greet. We'll visit soon."

Genos departed with Isabella, offering no additional explanation.

Rosalie watched the couple disappear across the vast ballroom, fists clenched white.

She wanted to run after them, grab them by the throats, shake them, scream—

"Rosalie, calm down. You have to endure this."

Martha gripped her daughter's arm and whispered urgently.

Rosalie's gaze snagged on Elena, who kept glancing their direction.

Rosalie moved like a snake spotting prey.

"Oh my—"

Elena yelped as Rosalie seized her wrist.

"Rosalie, this is barbaric! You're hurting—"

"That knight. Your cousin. Is he here?"

"What?"

"The one who said he saw a White family woman with the Grand Duke on Witch's Night. Is he here?"

Elena's face went pale.

Rosalie's eyes burned with something unnatural.

"Y-yes. He came, but—"

"Who! Where is he?"

Rosalie's head swiveled frantically.

"Rosalie, stop. Stop this right now—"

Martha's hissed warning went unheeded.

A knight in formal dress noticed the commotion and approached quickly.

"What's wrong, Elena?"

The knight from Witch's Night—the one who'd seen Genos and Isabella together. Tonight he attended as Elena's escort.

"Theron!"

Elena called his name desperately.

Theron pulled Rosalie's hand off Elena's wrist.

"Please forgive the inappropriate contact."

He addressed Rosalie with professional courtesy.

"I heard you saw the Grand Duke with a White family lady on Witch's Night."

Rosalie spoke rapidly, eyes unblinking.

Theron looked confused, then understanding dawned. His expression shifted slightly.

"Yes, that's correct. Why do you ask?"

"It was me. I'm the one you saw with the Grand Duke in front of the White mansion. Right?"

"Pardon?"

"You saw me with His Grace. Didn't you?"

The knight tilted his head several times, then turned.

He pointed across the ballroom toward Isabella.

"The woman with the Grand Duke that night was her. It was dark and she stood behind His Grace, so I didn't see clearly. But the height, the thin hands... it was her. Lady Isabella, who was just introduced."

The blood drained from Rosalie's feet to her fingertips.

No evidence remained that the Grand Duke had ever been her fiancé.

Nothing at all.

"I trust you're both discreet."

Martha addressed the knight and Elena, then supported Rosalie toward the exit.

"I'll kill her. Tear her apart until no one recognizes the pieces..."

Rosalie mumbled lifelessly, half-collapsed against her mother.

Martha held her pitiful daughter close while staring daggers at Isabella across the ballroom.

Whatever trick she'd used, whatever sorcery she'd employed... she would pay.

Martha made the vow as they left.

"The White mother and daughter just departed."

Genos whispered in Isabella's ear.

Isabella looked around quickly. Genos waved his hand gently, calming her.

"They're already gone."

"How did they look?"

"Probably thinking about how much they'd like to kill you."

Isabella smiled at that.

Welcome words indeed.

"I can't figure out when all this happened."

Ethan materialized before them.

His smarmy grin made Isabella's stomach turn.

She started to step back instinctively. Genos's arm locked around her waist, preventing retreat.

His strength brought her back to herself.

She needed to unlearn the fear of the White family—the conditioning from years of abuse.

"So the engagement to Rosalie is completely dissolved. Impressive, Your Grace. I didn't know you were the type to be so blinded by love."

Ethan smiled while walking the razor's edge between mockery and politeness. His specialty.

"When did you two start exchanging sweet nothings? If you don't mind sharing?"

"Witch's Night. During the tea party. As you probably guessed."

Genos's tone shifted to casual address—the language of speaking down to inferiors.

Ethan's brow twitched.

"Ah, I see. Isabella did disappear briefly, and Your Grace followed. So during that time, you and Isabella—"

"Ethan."

Genos rubbed his brow bone as if exhausted. Then spoke.

"Even if she's your sister, she'll be Grand Duchess soon. You shouldn't use her name so carelessly."

"..."

"Besides."

Genos leaned close to Ethan's ear.

"How dare someone who left those marks on Isabella's body speak at all?"

Ethan's breathing stopped.

His shaking gaze moved from Genos to Isabella.

'That stupid, timid thing tattled already?'

'That idiot?'

While Ethan drowned in confusion, Genos spotted the Empress entering the ballroom.

"We must greet Her Majesty. Excuse us. Come, Bella."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Genos and Isabella swept past Ethan with perfect grace.

Ethan stood frozen, buried in humiliation beyond words.