Chapter 200

Michael glanced at Willow in surprise. It wasn’t until he saw the tears on her face that he realized he’d gone too far.

Even though Michael still had feelings for Athena, his engagement to Willow was already set in stone. For him to push her away like that was too harsh.

Michael softened his tone and said to Willow, “I didn’t mean it that way. I just can’t bear to see you exhaust yourself.”

Willow’s face blossomed into a smile again as she looked at Michael, her gaze overflowing with tenderness. “As long as I can be with you, Michael, I don’t mind the hardship at all,” she said, her voice full of affection.

Michael’s emotions were in turmoil. He had already let down one woman who loved him; he couldn’t bear to fail another.

He tacitly allowed Willow to remain at the Osborne residence, tacitly allowed her to share his courtyard.

That evening, as Nona helped Willow prepare for bed, she said softly, “Miss Monson, I truly feel you’ve been wronged. It’s just so unfair.”

Willow sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. Catching the implication in Nona’s words, she asked with a faint smile, “Why would I feel wronged?”

As Nona gently combed Willow’s long hair, she said, “Miss Monson, you and Lord Osborne are clearly in love and already engaged, but the Osborne family keeps delaying the wedding. You’re not getting any younger, and the rumors are only getting worse. Doesn’t all this make you feel aggrieved?”

Willow felt a pang in her chest. Of course, she felt wronged.

‘Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could marry into the Osborne family. But there’s nothing I can do to hurry it along; otherwise, I’d look like some desperate spinster,’ she thought.

Willow narrowed her eyes at Nona and asked, “Nona, what are you really trying to say?” She knew her maid was never one to speak without a reason.

Nona seized the moment, leaned in close to Willow’s ear, and whispered, “Miss Monson, you’ve got to look out for yourself. If Lord Osborne won’t make the first move, then you should. When a woman goes after a man, it’s quite easy. Once you break that barrier, everything else just falls into place.”

Willow looked at Nona with feigned confusion, though she had already guessed what her maid was implying.

‘But how could a proper young lady like myself ever bring up such matters?’ she thought, feeling both helpless and embarrassed.

Pretending not to understand, she asked, “What can I do?”

Nona lowered her voice to a whisper. “Miss Monson, I know of a certain… potion that can make a person lose all restraint. If we could get Lord Osborne to take it, wouldn’t your path to becoming his wife be assured?”

Willow’s face flushed with indignation as she hastily cut Nona off. “Nona, how could you even suggest such a thing?” she scolded in a hushed but firm tone, “Never speak of this again.”

“Miss Monson, I truly have your best interests at heart. Even if you punish me for this, I must still speak my mind for your sake.”

Nona dropped to her knees at Willow’s feet and whispered urgently, “Miss Monson, can’t you see? Even Lady Kelsey is on your side. Why else would she keep you here in the Osborne residence?”

Willow fell into deep thought. Of course, she understood Kelsey’s intentions.

She mused, ‘But this approach is far too risky. If I were to sleep with Michael this way, it might only make him despise me more.’

As the cherished daughter of a Monson family, she would never stoop to the tricks concubines use to compete for favor.

“I need to think this through carefully,” Willow fell silent, weighing whether she was really willing to take such a drastic risk.

But before making any decisions, she figured she could at least subtly test Michael first.

Two days later, Michael had fully recovered, but he remained despondent, drinking alone day after day.

Seeing that the opportunity had come, Willow changed into an elegant dress and approached Michael.

Michael’s bleary eyes focused on Willow as she appeared. With a drunken chuckle, he slurred, “Willow… you’re here.”

Michael gestured for Willow to sit down, poured her a glass of wine, and slurred, “Come… drink with me.”

Willow sat facing him, her voice soft with concern. “Michael, why are you drinking so much? Alcohol isn’t good for your health. You should really cut down.”

Willow reached for the wine in Michael’s hand, but he pulled it away.

Michael swayed the wine bottle in his hand, slurring drunkenly, “This… this wine’s the best thing ever. Don’t… don’t try to stop me.”

With that, he downed another glass in one gulp.

Michael’s breath reeked of alcohol as he slurred, his mind clouded, “She… she’s right to ignore me… I don’t even deserve her attention…”

“Michael, could you please stop talking about Athena?” Willow’s voice trembled, on the verge of tears.

She was sitting right across from him, yet all he ever mentioned was Athena.

Willow thought bitterly, ‘What’s so special about her? Does she really deserve all of this from him?’

Michael’s face twisted between a laugh and a sob. “It’s all my fault… I wronged her. I’m the one to blame…”

Thinking of what he’d done to Athena, Michael was consumed by guilt; he couldn’t forgive himself.

‘Athena’s gone… she’s left me for good,’ he thought, drowning in regret.

Willow stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, but her heart burned with hatred.

She thought bitterly, ‘I hate Athena for stealing Michael, and I hate how her shadow still lingers between us.’

Suddenly, Michael seized Willow’s wrist with surprising strength.

She looked up and saw Michael, his face twisted in pain as he stared at her. Mistaking her for Athena, he slurred, “Athena, let’s… let’s make up. I’ll treat you right this time.”

“Michael, it’s Willow,” she said bitterly.

‘At this moment, I hated Athena with every fiber of my being, yet I couldn’t help but wish I were her,’ Willow thought bitterly.

Michael was so drunk he could barely form coherent words, yet his grip was ironclad.

He clung desperately to Willow’s wrist, refusing to let go as he kept slurring self-reproachful words.

Willow listened to those words, each one like a dagger to her heart. Every syllable carved deeper, leaving her in lingering pain.

The deeper Michael’s love for Athena, the crueler he was to Willow.

She never knew he loved Athena this much.

Willow thought of Nona’s suggestion. She told herself, ‘Just this once. I’ll only do this once.’

Summoning boundless courage from the depths of her heart, Willow pressed her lips against Michael’s.

At first, Michael was dazed, but soon he took the lead, his confusion giving way to a passionate response.

The next morning, Michael woke up from a hangover, clutching his throbbing forehead as a deep frown creased his brow.

‘Last night… it felt like I was dreaming…’ But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Michael realized something was off.

‘Since when do dreams feel this real?’ he wondered.

He looked to his side. Though the space beside him was empty, every trace showed someone had just been there.

Then Michael’s gaze froze on a bloodstain marring the bedsheets.

Michael roared, “Someone! Get in here!” He stormed out of the room in nothing but his undergarments.

The maid rushed in from outside, her voice trembling. “Lord Osborne…”

Michael demanded urgently, “Who was here last night?”

The maid lowered her head, too afraid to speak. Seeing her hesitate, Michael snapped, “Speak!”

The maid fell to her knees, trembling. “Lord Osborne, I… I dare not say,” she sobbed.

Michael snarled, snatching the sword from the wall. “Answer when I ask! Do you have a death wish?” He pressed the blade to the maid’s throat.

The maid was scared out of her wits and sobbed uncontrollably. “Please spare me, Lord Osborne! Miss Monson said if this got out, she wouldn’t survive. I swear, I never meant to hide it from you, my lord…”

Michael’s sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. His eyes darted about in stunned confusion as he murmured, “It was Willow… How could it be Willow?”

A wave of indescribable disappointment washed over Michael. ‘I actually thought it was Athena… I must be out of my mind,’ he thought bitterly.

Suddenly, Michael turned toward the door in panic, his voice quivering as he demanded, “How long has Willow been gone?”

“It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes, Lord Osborne,” the maid replied timidly, glancing anxiously at Michael. Then she added in a hushed voice, “Her face was streaked with tears. She looked utterly heartbroken.”

Michael’s eyes flew wide with shock. Snatching up his clothes, he bolted out the door.