MWAMHR|CHAPTER 70

Chapter 70

***

Count Leslie had said he would handle the investment issue on his own, but once Elisa learned the full story, she couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

Together with Ethan, she tried to figure out a way to introduce an investor without her father noticing.

But neither of them knew much about business, and they couldn’t come up with a good plan. In the end, they turned to Prince Howard for advice. He puffed up his chest confidently, assuring them to leave everything to him.

Aside from that, their days passed in peace. Ethan’s leg was healing steadily, and little Noah had even begun to speak again.

Just recently, when he said, “Mom, I love you,” Elisa burst into tears, overwhelmed with emotion.

Ethan had pouted, asking Noah to say, “Dad, I love you,” too—but the boy had pressed his lips together and refused. It had turned into a rather amusing little incident.

Still, the fact that Noah’s personality was growing brighter day by day made Elisa deeply happy. At that very moment, he was playing outside in the garden, laughing and running around under the warm sunlight with the servants.

Just seeing his bright little face almost made her hear the sound of his laughter—clear and ringing like a bell. But it was only her imagination. Though Noah had begun to speak again, she still hadn’t heard his laughter.

She had, however, heard him cry more times than she could count.

That thought made Elisa’s chest tighten. She looked over at Ethan, who was sitting at his desk, writing a letter.

“I’m thinking of taking Noah to see a therapist,” she said softly. “What do you think?”

“A therapist?”

“Mm. There’s a doctor he used to see. I thought if we took him there, it might help him speak a little more easily.”

Ethan shook his head. “If that’s the reason, then I’m against it.”

She blinked in surprise. She’d expected him to agree immediately. “Why not?”

“What Noah needs right now isn’t therapy—it’s his parents’ love and attention.”

Elisa let out a quiet sigh, realizing he had touched on something she hadn’t even considered.

“He’s already starting to open up,” Ethan continued gently. “Let’s not rush him. Let’s just keep waiting a little longer.”

Every word he said was right. Only recently had she promised herself to be patient, and yet here she was, growing anxious again. Her face flushed with shame, and she nodded.

“Honestly, it feels like you know Noah better than I do.”

It had been Ethan, after all, who first discovered the reason Noah couldn’t speak—and the one who helped him find his voice again.

A small pang of jealousy stirred inside her. How could Ethan, who had known the child for only a short while, understand him better than she—his mother of four years?

The thought made her shoulders slump. She felt foolish and disappointed in herself.

Ethan noticed and put his pen down, walking over to her.

“You know what they say—the candle’s base is always the darkest,” he murmured. “You were just too close to notice. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Then he gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

“And whatever you might lack, I’ll make up for it as his father. That’s why parents are meant to be together.”

The warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his voice comforted her—but what moved her most was that word: together.

She wasn’t alone anymore. Smiling faintly, Elisa leaned into his arms.

***

After running and playing in the garden, Noah was covered in dirt and sweat.

“You need a bath before dinner,” Elisa said, taking his little hand and leading him toward the bathroom.

Once the two were gone, Ethan sat back down at his desk and picked up his pen again. The window behind him glowed with the hues of red and gold.

It was his first time writing a formal letter, but thanks to Elisa’s guidance, it wasn’t difficult.

He wrote carefully, letter by letter—because one mistake meant starting over.

He was just about to finish the closing line when a sudden gust of wind blew through the room, fluttering the paper. His pen slipped, and the ink smudged across the page.

“Haa…”

A deep sigh escaped him—part frustration, part regret. Crumpling the ruined letter, he tossed it aside and reached for a fresh sheet.

“Master, Lady Giselle Brianna has come to see you.”

The butler’s words froze him.

Just two days ago, Ethan had sent Giselle a letter along with a gift, formally ending their contractual relationship. She had agreed without protest. That meant she had no reason to come now—none at all.

A bad feeling pricked at him. Setting down his pen, Ethan hurried to the parlor.

As expected, Giselle was pacing nervously, her face pale and anxious.

“Baron Estevan!”

The moment she saw him, she rushed forward and grabbed his arm. Her grip was so desperate that Ethan didn’t even think to move away.

“It’s a disaster! They’ve found out—everything’s been exposed!”

“Please, calm down first.”

But before she could answer, the sound of familiar footsteps echoed from beyond the open door—light, rhythmic steps that could only belong to Elisa.

Ethan turned his head instinctively. Down the hallway bathed in sunset, Elisa was walking toward them.

“Your true identity—your father was a slave! They’ve found out!” Giselle screamed.

***

In the Kingdom of Petra, a child’s social status followed that of their father. That meant if Ethan’s father had been a slave, then Ethan too should have been born one.

However, if a father’s identity was unknown, a child could take the mother’s status instead. Ethan’s mother, Lady Grace, had used this loophole to register him as a commoner.

When Count Leslie eventually discovered the truth, he was furious—but he didn’t report it. After all, having it known that his daughter had once been involved with a slave would only bring shame upon their family.

Because of that silence, Ethan had lived as a commoner and eventually risen to nobility.

But now, with his father’s origins suddenly exposed, everything he’d built was collapsing.

In Petra, a commoner could become a noble by marrying into nobility or earning merit through war—but a slave could not. No matter how great his achievements, a slave could never become a noble.

Even if they were granted freedom, the mark of slavery would follow them for life.

In other words, even if Ethan had won the war and brought glory to the kingdom, it was technically illegal for him to hold the title of baron.

The queen’s faction—who had long despised Ethan Estevan—seized upon this revelation. They demanded his title be stripped immediately, claiming he had deceived both the crown and the people.

Rumors spread quickly that he would face punishment for fraud and treason.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone your father was a slave?”

Prince Howard himself came to the Estevan estate, frustration etched on his face. Calling Ethan to the palace would have drawn too much attention, so he’d come in person.

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Ethan replied calmly. “My father has long passed away, and according to official records, my status as a commoner is legitimate.”

“You should have told me anyway!” Howard snapped.

Ethan’s tone remained composed. “Would it have changed anything?”

The sharpness in his voice left Howard speechless.

Whoever had dug up a twenty-year-old record and spread it so publicly was clearly acting out of malice—someone who wanted Ethan ruined.

Even if Howard had known, it would have changed nothing.

“Have you found out who spread the rumors?” Ethan asked.

“No. They appeared from several sources at once—it’s impossible to trace. And right now, the culprit doesn’t matter. What matters is how we contain this mess.”

Howard rubbed his temples, frowning deeply.

“The best option would be to claim the rumors are false and that someone’s trying to slander you—but the queen’s faction has evidence. Too much of it.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know where they even found records that old. Archaeologists would be impressed.”

Ethan’s eyes darkened. “Then there’s no choice.”

He straightened his back. “I’ll acknowledge everything and renounce my title. I’ll make it clear this has nothing to do with you, Your Highness.”

Howard gave a short, incredulous laugh. “And what about your child?”

“My child? What does Noah have to do with this?”

“Have you forgotten?” Howard’s voice hardened. “Under Petra’s law, a child inherits the father’s status.”

The realization hit Ethan like a stone. His expression stiffened.

“In other words,” Howard said quietly, “if you admit to being a slave—then your son will become one too. Are you really prepared for that?”