SS~08

“Please grant me a divorce, Your Grace.” A sudden death sentence. That was what pushed Riena to end three years of a hollow, show-window marriage— to finally let go of her exhausting, one-sided love. “Your Highness, I’m no longer of use to you.” And it wasn’t just empty words. She truly wasn’t needed. The position had always been far too lofty for her. And in the end, she had only ever been a means to secure a title. “I have no reason to take on the risk of divorce—over nothing, over someone as insignificant as you.” But instead of a divorce, what came back to her was disgrace— a declaration that her marriage was void, and even after leaving the palace, a carriage accident that sparked rumors of her death. Still, Riena endured. Her life was already numbered. If the world thought her gone, then so be it. But then… “It’s been a long time, Riena.” She never imagined she would run into her ex-husband again — in the very place she had hidden herself away. “From the start, you deceived me.” And worse still, he believed she had staged the accident herself— a horrific lie she never saw coming.  

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  (From the main text) “Ha. Perhaps being terminally ill would have suited you better.” “…What do you mean by that?” “At least then, out of pity, I might have sent you off to the countryside to recover.” At his sneering tone, Riena’s calm gaze wavered, shadows tangling within her eyes. “Well, if that had been the case, I wouldn’t have had to bother with all this trouble. Leave you rotting in the countryside and you’d vanish on your own. What a shame. If only you’d really caught some incurable disease—then both of us would’ve been spared the nuisance.” Dante’s lips curled into a cold, mocking smile. Each word cut across her heart like a blade. Her chest tightened, pain constricting her breath. Riena bit down hard on her lip, realizing— this ache had nothing to do with her illness. She lifted her eyes, meeting his fierce golden stare head-on. And slowly, a bitter smile formed on her lips. She knew it well— his words were meant only to wound. “…You’re right. If I were to die here and now, it would certainly be more convenient for Your Grace. Forgive me for failing to oblige.”