Chapter 61
When Ethan finished speaking, a silence colder than midwinter settled over Count Leslie’s study.
The air itself seemed to freeze as the Count’s gaze hardened, his eyes glinting with both fury and disbelief.
“So, you truly intend to marry my daughter and stain our family name?”
His words were spat out like venom, a tangled mix of anger, disappointment, and betrayal.
Before Ethan could respond, Elisa stepped forward, blocking him gently with her arm.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Father.”
Her eyes blazed with resolve, yet her voice remained calm and steady, stripped of all emotion.
“I told you before. I’m leaving the family. And of course, I’ll be taking Noah with me. So there’s no need to worry about the Leslie name being tainted.”
Her words made her determination unmistakably clear. When Count Leslie realized she was serious—truly prepared to leave her family and her title behind—his expression crumbled.
“Elisa… How could you do this to me? After everything I’ve done for you… how could you treat your father like this?”
He sounded dazed, his eyes shadowed with despair, like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.
Elisa couldn’t bear to look at him. She turned her head aside.
She knew her father’s stubbornness wasn’t born of greed or pride, but from a genuine belief that he was protecting her.
That made this all the more painful.
If it had been about anything else, she would have yielded.
But not this time.
Not when my future—and the future of the man and child I love—depend on it.
“Please, Father,” she said quietly. “Transfer Noah’s registration.”
Noah Leslie was still legally listed as the Count’s son. To correct the record and have Noah recognized as Ethan’s child, Count Leslie’s signature was required.
There were legal ways to force the change through the courts, but that would only create a scandal—and Elisa refused to put Noah through more pain.
Yet the Count said nothing. His lips were sealed tight, his silence thick with defiance or perhaps reluctance to let go.
“Father,” Elisa urged.
Still, he remained unmoved.
“Do you really want this to blow up into a public affair?” she pressed. “If it does, your precious family honor will be dragged through the mud.”
“…Even if you marry that man,” the Count muttered at last, “people will still whisper. They’ll still gossip.”
He said it bluntly—and the way he called Noah that child stabbed deep into Elisa’s heart.
“They’ll say the noble daughter of House Leslie bore a commoner’s child out of wedlock. They’ll sneer that her parents failed to raise her properly. Our family’s honor will be ruined.”
“That’s why I said I’ll leave the family,” she reminded him.
“Even if you do,” he barked, slamming his palm on the desk, “you’ll still be my daughter—Adolf Leslie’s blood runs in your veins!”
The blow echoed sharply through the room. His anger was fierce, though less so than before.
“Maybe so,” Elisa said quietly. “Just as nothing can change the fact that Noah is my child… and Ethan’s.”
Her tone was gentle but unyielding.
Realizing he could no longer sway her, Count Leslie lowered his head and exhaled heavily.
“I can’t stop people from talking,” Ethan spoke up then, stepping forward. “But I’ll do everything in my power to make sure House Leslie suffers no harm from it.”
Both Elisa and the Count turned to him. The older man’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
“If you’d simply give up my daughter,” the Count muttered, “none of this would be necessary.”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said with a faint smile. “But that’s not an option I can live with.”
The Count scowled, as if the younger man’s composure were mocking him.
“Then take this,” Ethan said.
He reached into his coat, withdrew a folded document, and placed it on the desk.
The Count’s brows furrowed the instant he saw it.
Even Elisa gasped when she read the contents over his shoulder.
Noah Leslie is hereby recognized not as the son of Count Adolf Leslie, but as the legitimate son of Ethan Estevan…
Ethan met their identical stares and smiled faintly.
“It’s simple, really. All you have to do is seal it. I’ll handle the rest.”
***
“Give me four hours,” Ethan said the moment he stepped off the train in the capital. “I’ll be at the palace by then.”
Howard didn’t argue. He already knew what Ethan was up to—and that trying to stop him was pointless.
He’d even scheduled the timing with that in mind.
Exactly three hours and fifty minutes later, Ethan appeared before the royal palace gates, his hair and clothes tousled by the wind from the hard ride.
“With a leg like yours, you shouldn’t be riding like that,” Howard scolded. “Didn’t the physician say no strenuous activity for at least a month?”
Ethan just smiled faintly as he dismounted, handing the reins to an attendant. When he pushed back his hood, the bandages around his head came into view.
“Have you been waiting here this whole time?” he asked.
“As if,” Howard snorted. “I wouldn’t wait around for you, you miserable bastard. Maybe if you were a beautiful lady, sure.”
He waved off the thought with mock disgust and climbed into the waiting carriage. Ethan followed, and the wheels began to turn smoothly.
“Are we going straight to see His Majesty?”
“Yeah. The royal command said to come immediately—no matter the hour. That means it’s urgent.”
Howard leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.
“Can’t blame him, really. Rumor has it that Camilla didn’t fall from that cliff—you were the one she pushed.”
He spoke with feigned horror but a trace of amusement glimmered in his eyes. Small wonder—he was the one who had started that rumor in the first place.
It was all part of the groundwork to divert the king’s suspicion. Howard had been busy preparing on every front.
“And what’s the reaction from the princess’s side?” Ethan asked, silently grateful to have such an ally.
“She’s throwing fits, saying it’s nonsense. The queen’s furious too—calling it slander against the royal family and demanding whoever spread it be punished.”
Howard chuckled darkly.
“The more they rage, the deeper they’ll dig their own graves.”
“Still, be careful,” Ethan warned.
“Don’t worry,” Howard replied easily. “If I were that careless, I’d have been dead years ago.”
Then, with a sidelong glance, he asked, “So? Everything settled with the Count?”
“Yes,” Ethan said simply.
Howard let out a low whistle. “Convincing that stubborn old man in just a few hours? Impressive.”
“It was all thanks to Elisa,” Ethan replied. And it was true—without her, he could never have done it.
“You got the signature, then? You’ll file it with the court right away?”
“No,” Ethan said with a calm smile. “Not until after Elisa and I are married.”
“Ah, right. You’re not officially husband and wife yet.”
Just saying the word wife in connection with Elisa filled Ethan’s chest with warmth.
And when he thought of Noah, that warmth turned into a quiet smile.
By the time their conversation ended, the carriage had arrived before the radiant golden gates of the Palace of the Sun.
“Well then,” Howard murmured, his expression hardening as he looked ahead. “Let’s finish what’s left.”
