SODTAM | Ch 20

Episode 20 – The Fraud Who Made Me Miserable

The head maid, walking behind me, spotted the uninvited guest and immediately moved closer to my side.

At the same time, Solra, who had seen us, hurried over with little quick steps.

“Hello, madam. You remember me, don’t you? I’ve been so busy fixing up the annex, I only just managed to come greet you.”

I frowned. Empty pleasantries were useless.

Disgusted, I didn’t even answer.

But she had no sense. She kept talking.

“I’ve been staying in the annex since the day of the send-off. But you haven’t come to see me even once, nor shown any interest.”

“Why would I need to take an interest in you?”

“Well, since we’re living under the same roof now, wouldn’t it be nice to get along?”

I almost laughed out loud.

My husband’s mistress is suggesting we “get along”? Ridiculous.

A scoff slipped out.

“Do not speak rudely to the Duchess,” the head maid snapped. “If you’re a guest, then act like one and show respect.”

Solra’s face tightened with annoyance, but then she suddenly smiled as if an idea struck her.

“Then may I politely request the Duchess?”

I gestured for her to speak.

With her back straight and her voice bold, she said:

“I’d like to help take care of the baby.”

“What nonsense!” the head maid cried.

Leaving my child in the hands of a fraud who had deceived the Stroud household? Unthinkable.

It was too absurd even to be angry.

“Solra, you’re a guest of the Duke.”

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“I don’t assign work to guests. So there’s nothing for you to do.”

“But since you’re so busy, wouldn’t it help if I looked after him?”

The childish logic gave me a headache.

“How could I trust you? You, who deceived everyone in this house?”

I tried to stay calm, but the fury boiling inside me was too hot.

Fidgeting with the hem of her yellow dress, Solra said, as if confessing:

“I had my reasons. I needed money for my brother’s treatment, so I had no choice…”

“That’s your problem.”

The head maid laughed out loud in disbelief.

Solra had scammed the entire household for money, yet she showed no real remorse.

I was done listening. My voice went cold.

“There are those who endure far harsher lives than yours, yet they choose honesty, even knowing the easier road. They are not like you.”

I looked her straight in the eyes. Her lips trembled as if she might burst into tears.

“Be grateful I haven’t dragged you into court for deceiving the Strouds.”

She stared back, eyes burning with resentment, but to me, she was pathetic.

“…Understood, madam,” she said finally, blinking back tears.

She turned sharply on her heel, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and stormed off down the corridor.

“Head maid.”

“Yes, madam.”

Pressing my aching temples, I ordered:

“Send a discreet maid to the annex. Someone observant.”

The first thing I did upon entering my office was write a demand letter.

It listed the wages Solra had stolen under the name “Morant”—despite not doing a full servant’s work—and demanded reimbursement for damages from her fraud.

I wrote three copies, sealed them, and signed them. One for my records, one for a legal authority, and one to deliver to her.

Before long, the knight I sent to deliver it returned, shaking his head with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“She got it, my lady. But she tore it up right in front of me.”

The main house buzzed with chaos, preparing for tomorrow’s party.

In contrast, the annex was silent and dreary, which left Solra feeling small.

I still need a maid to help with Morant, she thought.

The “villainess” Duchess would never help her, so she had to find someone herself.

As she wandered, lost in thought, one face came to mind.

Maybe she’ll understand.

Back when she was disguised as Morant, there had been a kitchen maid who often slipped her extra bread or fruit.

Sweet, eager to be her friend.

Though Solra admitted uneasily, ever since she’d returned to the mansion as “herself,” many people’s attitudes had changed.

Some avoided her. Others looked at her with open hostility.

Would that maid have changed, too?

Still desperate, Solra decided to try.

When she reached the busy kitchen, she spotted the girl among the bustling staff.

She almost called out, then faltered.

What was her name again? Something like mine…

Unable to remember, she stopped a passing servant. The boy, arms loaded with dishes, glared at her.

“Can you call that maid over there for me?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes and shouted, “Mali! Come here!”

Right, Mali. That’s it, Solra thought, readying a sweet smile.

But when Mali came out and realized who had asked for her, her face hardened.

“I have no reason to speak with you.”

Solra froze. The once-friendly girl, who used to blush shyly, now radiated hostility.

“Mali, it’s me. Morant,” Solra said desperately, reaching for her hand.

But Mali pulled away.

“You’re not Morant. You’re just the fraud who humiliated me.”

Solra had expected some resentment, but hearing it so bluntly shocked her.

Her face twisted with pain. She looked like she might cry.

“Fraud? I only borrowed my brother’s name because I had no choice—”

“You deceived everyone in this house. That fact won’t change.”

Mali’s eyes traveled over Solra’s expensive dress, dripping with scorn.

“Mali, I—”

“I have nothing more to say. Unlike you, I actually have work to do.”

With a curt bow, Mali turned and walked away.

Solra watched her go, then covered her face with her hands.

It was unbearable—the thought that someone besides the so-called villainess hated her too.

“She’s roaming the estate?” I asked.

“Yes,” the head maid replied. “Asking servants for favors. Says she’s trying to find a maid to care for her sick brother. But I doubt she’ll get anywhere.”

That phrase—sick brother—stuck in my ears.

I’d heard the real Morant was brought to the annex, carried in by a physician. But…

Is he really sick?

I couldn’t trust her word. After all, she’d once chopped her hair and pretended to be a boy just to live under my roof.

Maybe this “illness” was just another lie to win pity.

Until I saw it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.

“How are preparations for the party?” I asked.

“All finished, madam. We’re ready to receive guests this evening.”

“Well done.”

My eyes drifted to the window—just in time to see Solra, yellow dress billowing, running across the garden.

She was heading toward the servants’ quarters and the knights’ barracks. Clearly, she’d given up trying to persuade the maids.

Perhaps I should confirm it myself.

Guests wouldn’t arrive for hours. I had time.

The annex garden looked more like a forest—wild, untended. The building itself was crumbling, disgracefully shabby.

Inside, the corridor smelled musty, uncleaned.

Ryan came here often, I’d heard.

Did he truly not care about this filth? Or was he so obsessed with embracing his mistress that he didn’t even see it?

The thought turned my stomach.

Even in a loveless marriage, no spouse could accept such humiliation gladly.

I stopped before a door—one of the few that seemed cleaned. A faint scent of herbs wafted out.

This must be it.

A guard had told me a sickly man, likely the real Morant, had been carried in here on the morning of the send-off.

Though no one had seen him since.

Taking a deep breath, I rapped on the door with my knuckles.