Charlize Sasharte had imagined this night countless times.
The wedding chamber was vast, lit by warm crystal lamps that reflected softly on the white silk curtains. Everything was prepared according to royal standards—luxurious, flawless, and cold. Just like the man standing a few steps away from her.
Duke Ethan Holden removed his gloves with unhurried movements, placing them neatly on the table. His tall figure cast a long shadow across the floor, never once turning to look at her.
Charlize sat on the edge of the bed, fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her wedding dress. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with restrained excitement. She had loved him for years. Quietly. Secretly. Foolishly.
Tonight, she was finally his wife.
Ethan broke the silence first.
“Princess Charlize,” he said, his voice calm, distant, as if addressing a stranger rather than his newlywed wife. “Before anything else, there are matters that must be made clear.”
Her lips curved into a nervous smile. “You can just call me Charlize now. We are husband and wife.”
He turned then, his steel-gray eyes devoid of warmth.
“This marriage was arranged by the royal family,” Ethan said flatly. “It does not change my feelings—or rather, the lack of them.”
Charlize’s smile stiffened.
“I do not intend to love you,” he continued. “Nor do I intend to share a marital relationship in the way you may expect.”
The words struck her like a sudden chill.
She swallowed. “Ethan… I know I’m not perfect. I know people talk about me. But I can change. I—”
“That is unnecessary,” he interrupted. “Your reputation, your past indulgences, your scandals—none of that concerns me.”
Her fingers trembled slightly. “Then what does?”
“Our private lives,” he replied. “They will remain separate.”
Charlize stared at him, her breath caught in her chest.
“You may do as you please,” Ethan said, his tone detached. “Attend parties. Spend money. Even take a male lover if you wish.”
Her eyes widened.
“But,” he added coldly, “do not interfere with mine.”
Silence fell heavily between them.
Charlize forced herself to breathe. She lowered her gaze, her heart aching, yet she nodded.
“…I understand.”
Ethan looked faintly surprised, as if expecting resistance.
She lifted her head again, managing a gentle smile. “As long as you don’t hate me… I’m satisfied.”
He said nothing more.
That night, he left the room.
Charlize lay awake until dawn, staring at the canopy above her, convincing herself that this was enough. After all, she was his only wife. His duchess. His partner in name, if nothing else.
She believed that time would soften him.
She was wrong.
Months later, the Northern Duke’s estate welcomed a new guest.
Charlize stood at the top of the staircase when she first saw her.
The lady wore a simple pastel dress, her posture modest, her expression gentle. She held her skirt lightly as she walked beside Ethan, who—Charlize noticed immediately—had slowed his steps for her.
“This is Lily,” Ethan said calmly when he noticed Charlize. “The daughter of Count Willer.”
Lily lifted her gaze, startled, and quickly bowed. “Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you.”
Her voice was soft, almost fragile.
Charlize felt something tighten in her chest.
“And?” Charlize asked quietly.
Ethan did not avoid her eyes. “She will be staying here.”
The unspoken words hung in the air.
Lily’s cheeks flushed slightly. She looked down, fingers clasped together. “Please forgive me… I hope I won’t be a burden.”
Charlize stared at the scene—the way Ethan stood close, the way his voice softened when he spoke to the other woman.
So this was his private life.
She smiled faintly, hiding the pain burning behind her eyes.
“Welcome to the Northern Duke’s estate,” Charlize said calmly. “I hope you feel at home.”
Lily looked relieved.
Ethan nodded, as if this was all settled.
As they walked past her, Charlize remained standing alone on the stairs, her heart sinking slowly.
That night, she finally understood.
She had agreed not to disturb his private life.
But she never imagined it would hurt this much.
---
Charlize walked through the dim corridor toward Ethan’s study, her steps light, almost hesitant.
She told herself she was only there to discuss the upcoming winter banquet. That was all. A duchess’s duty. Nothing more.
Yet her heart betrayed her, beating faster with each step.
When she reached the door, she noticed it wasn’t fully closed.
A sliver of warm light spilled into the hallway.
Charlize slowed, instinctively holding her breath.
“…Ethan.”
Lily’s voice—soft, intimate—floated out.
Charlize’s fingers stiffened.
She leaned closer before she could stop herself.
Through the narrow opening, she saw them.
Lily was sitting on Ethan’s lap, her arms loosely around his neck. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes half-lidded as she leaned forward. Ethan’s hand rested at her waist, holding her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Their lips met.
Not hurried. Not restrained.
It was gentle. Familiar.
As if they had done this countless times before.
Charlize felt her vision blur.
Inside the study, Lily whispered, her voice trembling slightly, “Your Grace… what if the Duchess—”
“She won’t come here,” Ethan replied calmly. His voice was low, indulgent. “And even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.”
Lily hesitated. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”
Ethan let out a quiet chuckle. “You are not trouble. You are the only one I want.”
Those words shattered something inside Charlize.
Her body reacted before her mind did. She stepped back, then another step, pressing a hand over her mouth to keep herself from making a sound. She turned quickly into the shadows of the corridor, her back hitting the cold stone wall.
Her legs gave out.
Charlize slid down, clutching her chest as tears spilled freely.
This was the first time she cried.
In both lives.
“So this is how it feels…” she whispered hoarsely.
In her first life, she had been proud, reckless, always laughing too loudly, hiding everything behind extravagance and arrogance. She trampled people feeling, bullied a lady who love Ethan and do many bad things. She never cried, even when slander followed her name, even when Ethan treated her like air.
She had died without tears.
And now—this second life—she was crying for the same man.
“How pathetic,” she murmured to herself.
She hugged her knees tightly, her shoulders trembling.
She knew this scene.
She remembered it.
In her previous life, she had also passed by the study that night. She hadn’t seen the kiss—but she had heard Lily’s moans. She had pretended not to notice. Pretended not to care.
Back then, she still believed that as long as she endured, as long as she remained the lawful wife, Ethan would eventually look at her.
She had been wrong.
Charlize wiped her tears with trembling fingers.
“In a few months…” she whispered, her voice hollow.
In a few months, same as previous life, Ethan would officially take Lily as his second wife.
In a few months, the entire North would celebrate Lily’s pregnancy.
And in a few months—
She would be accused of jealousy.
Of poisoning.
Of pushing Lily down the stairs.
Of tarnishing royal and Duke family name.
“No matter what I say… no one will believe me,” Charlize murmured bitterly.
She remembered Ethan’s cold eyes when he had stood before the court.
“Charlize Sasharte,” he had said back then, his voice sharp as ice. “You are unworthy of the title of Duchess.”
She remembered being stripped of her status.
Her authority.
Her dignity.
She remembered being dragged away, screaming his name, begging him to listen just once. She remembered how Lily mocking eyes while act pitiful in Ethan hug.
And Ethan had turned his back on her.
The last memory burned vividly in her mind.
The stench.
The laughter.
The humiliation of being thrown into a whorehouse by the man she loved. She suffered being gangraped by Lily admirer and being thrown without any clothes on the back alley. She weakly died in winter.
Her death was disgraceful.
Charlize bit her lip until she tasted blood.
“Not again…” she whispered.
She lifted her head slowly, eyes red but burning with pain and clarity.
“I can’t let it happen again.”
From inside the study, Lily moans echoed softly.
Charlize stood up unsteadily, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened.
Her heart still loved him.
That hadn’t changed.
But this time, she knew the ending.
And this time—
She would not walk blindly toward hell again. She will throw away this poisonous love.
