Chapter 39 – The Child’s Worth
“The intruder?”
“We’re still tracking their trail, Your Grace,” a knight reported.
“They’re highly skilled. They were fast, silent, and left almost no traces behind. We can’t identify them yet.”
Sharon Abner nodded and quickened her pace.
Several knights from the Abner Order followed behind her.
“For now, we’ll heighten security across the estate. We’ll also post guards at the old watchtowers that haven’t been in use.”
“Good.”
The Abner estate had four watchtowers—one in each direction.
Their tall spires overlooked the grounds, but for years, those towers had stood empty.
‘Because there haven’t been any real threats in years,’ she thought grimly.
When the Abners had begun to regain even a shadow of their former power,
The constant stream of assassins had stopped coming on their own.
The turning point had been when Sharon secured the royal contract to supply weapons to the Imperial Army.
“I grew careless,” she muttered.
The captain of the search unit bowed his head.
“We’ll expand the search radius to the maximum. We’ll find any trace, no matter how faint—quietly. It wouldn’t do for this to reach the capital’s gossip mills.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
The captain and his soldiers saluted and dispersed into the grounds.
Soon after, Sharon reached her office.
The chill of an empty room swept over her as she stepped inside.
“…It wasn’t Anne Clarke.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
She crossed the room, stopping before her desk and picking up a folder of documents.
“Age thirty-four. Inherited an orphanage from a relative. Has been running it for sixteen years.”
The file was compiled by her own intelligence network.
It included reports from Evehill Village—
praising Anne’s reputation, her sincerity, and her ability to run the orphanage without any major funding.
Sharon’s gaze lingered on the papers for a long time.
Then she slowly walked toward the fireplace.
Without hesitation, she tossed the entire file into the glowing embers.
Whoosh—
The flame caught instantly, the papers curling and blackening into ash.
Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion.
“Anne Clarke had no motive.”
Sharon had to admit it now.
Anne Clarke was a good caretaker—
a woman who genuinely loved the children under her care,
who was honest and diligent in managing the orphanage.
She had no reason to hurt Annelia.
The last scraps of paper burned, turning red, then yellow, then gray.
Ash fell softly into the fire.
“And that face…”
Sharon could still see Anne’s bloodstained hands and tear-streaked face—
Her voice breaking as she yelled at Miel, demanding to know how they’d let this happen.
And Annelia…
Annelia, who had never cried no matter how much pain she was in,
had finally burst into tears in Anne’s arms.
The child who hadn’t even whimpered when stabbed and thrown down a staircase
had relaxed only when she saw Anne Clarke.
“If she had really been abused, that could never have happened.”
Sharon’s voice sounded hollow in the cold air.
She turned her head slightly.
“Come in, Wendel.”
The door opened quietly.
Wendel entered, his expression grave.
“I agree with Your Grace,” he said softly.
“When I brought Anne Clarke here, the other children reacted the same way.”
“…”
“They were terrified to be separated from her. Even now, the ones waiting in the annex keep asking for her.”
“I see.”
Sharon sat down at her desk.
Silence filled the room.
Only the faint hiss of dying embers broke it.
Finally, she spoke.
“Stop investigating Annelia for now.”
Wendel’s head snapped up.
“Then… what about finding out who’s behind her?”
“People call me ruthless and cruel,” Sharon said quietly, leaning back in her chair.
“They’re not wrong. To rebuild Abner, I had to suspect everything and everyone.”
The last flame flickered out in the fireplace.
“But even suspicion should have limits,” she murmured.
“I forgot that too much doubt kills trust.”
“…”
“Annelia is Abner’s benefactor, Wendel.”
He blinked in surprise.
“She helped us recover the money stolen by the Coel family.
She helped us mend our ties with the Imperial Palace.”
“…”
“She brought us talented researchers and blessings beyond counting.”
Her voice grew quieter, heavier.
“And in return, she asked for only one thing—
that I never ask questions. That I don’t pry into her secrets.”
Wendel stared at her, stunned.
“I was foolish,” Sharon said bitterly.
“Only now do I truly understand what matters most.”
“…”
“More than anything else, her safety comes first.”
“…”
“My duty as head of the house is to protect her, not interrogate her.
Whatever she’s hiding can wait.”
For a moment, Wendel just looked at her, speechless.
Then, at her small gesture, he bowed deeply and left the room.
Sharon was alone again.
She leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long breath.
“…What a troublesome child.”
The image of Annelia’s small, blood-covered body flashed in her mind.
“A troublesome, cunning little thing.”
Those ivory eyes, wide and trembling, staring up at her—
The memory wouldn’t fade.
She closed her eyes.
She had been there while the doctor examined the child.
The physician had explained, in painful detail, how badly Annelia’s body had been injured.
How expensive the proper healing medicine would be—
and how difficult it was to obtain.
He had even dared to suggest something.
Because the girl was a commoner.
Because she was only a sponsored orphan living in the Abner estate.
“Perhaps it would be better,” he said.
to give her a small dose of painkillers and let nature take its course.
Let her die peacefully.
At that moment, Sharon had been silent for a long time.
Not because she hesitated over the cost.
Not because she feared the backlash from the noble branches of her family.
‘No,’ she thought.
‘It’s because I’ve changed.’
In the past, she would have weighed the price of the medicine against the child’s worth.
She would have thought of the scorn from her relatives—
how they’d call her wasteful for spending so much on a mere orphan.
But now…
That wasn’t what she thought at all.
No matter how expensive it was.
No matter who criticized her.
If it meant the child would live—
None of that mattered.
“…Such a dangerous little thing,” she murmured again.
She should have known this would happen
the moment she brought that child into her home.
Every time Annelia smiled, or ate happily, or laughed—
Somewhere inside, Sharon found herself smiling too.
She bit her lip hard.
“…At least she’s alive.”
The child still breathed.
She still blinked.
She had cried in Anne Clarke’s arms.
That was enough.
If she could recover,
she would walk again, run again,
Fill the halls of the mansion with her laughter and curiosity once more.
And then—
***
“Duchess!”
That voice.
The way she said it, with absolute faith—like she’d never doubted it once.
“Duchess!”
For Sharon, being called that so naturally,
without fear or hesitation, had been rare.
No one else had ever said it so purely.
“…She’s alive,” Sharon whispered.
That was all that mattered.
The guilt pressing on her heart eased slightly.
From the moment she’d seen Anne Clarke weeping over the girl,
and that small, battered child still whispering, ‘I’m fine…’
She had realized how wrong she’d been—
how she’d broken the very promise she made to Annelia.
‘I should have protected her first.’
Anne Clarke’s words had been right.
What mattered most was giving the child warmth, safety, and care—
not suspicion.
‘I’ve grown old… and ugly, Sharon Abner.’
For a long while, the Duchess sat silently in her empty office.
and finally let out a long, tired sigh.
