Once outside the imposing iron gates of the Viremont estate, Penelope heaved a long, shuddering sigh of relief.

She could not remember the last time she had felt this entirely unburdened.

Placing a gloved hand over her chest, she realized her heart felt lighter too, as though the heavy, rusted chains that had weighed upon her soul for two lifetimes had finally loosened their grip enough to let her breathe.

The suffocating guilt, the bitter regret, and the constant, nagging fear that had defined her past existence seemed to evaporate into the afternoon air.

Now that she had successfully altered their fates and ensnared her parents within the very greed they had so eagerly cultivated, a new determination settled within her. For the first time in a very long while, she found herself gazing toward the uncertain future with something she had nearly forgotten existed: hope.

Whatever trial lay ahead, she would remain at Vincent’s side. She would support him in his endeavors, just as he had fiercely shielded her today.

Yet more than that, she wanted to truly know him. She wanted to peel back the rumors about him and understand the real man beneath it.

"Penny?"

Hearing her name, she lifted her head to meet Vincent’s searching gaze.

A small, genuine smile curved her lips, replacing the mask of the vengeful Marchioness she had worn inside the estate. "Thank you for coming today, Your Lordship." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Vincent only narrowed his eyes at her, a look of quiet amusement dancing within them. "We are already outside, and yet you still refuse to speak plainly to me."

His vague words made Penelope blink, momentarily caught off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"I knew you were pretending," he said simply.

The statement caused Penelope to stop in her tracks, and she stiffened slightly.

He knew?

Seeing the shock in her wide eyes, Vincent raised a leather-gloved hand and, with surprising gentleness, pulled her cheek as though she were a child caught in a harmless mischief.

"Your family did not threaten you with an axe, did they?"

Penelope blinked rapidly.

"How did you–"

"I also know those torn papers were not the original inheritance documents your mother left behind," he went on, his deep voice calm and utterly unconcerned by the deception.

He released her cheek and leaned back slightly, studying her stunned expression with unmistakable satisfaction.

"Did you truly believe you could fool me? I am not so easily deceived."

"...and you’re not upset?"

"Do you want me to be upset?" he countered, arching a dark brow.

Penelope’s smile only widened, the last remnant of her faux distress disappearing completely.

"How did I do, then?"

"The tears were quite convincing," he admitted, his gaze drifting back to the estate looming beyond the iron gate. "I may have flattened the entire estate had I truly believed someone had raised a weapon against you. But I could tell you were having fun. I didn’t want to ruin it for you."

Penelope laughed softly at that.

However, Vincent’s attention remained fixed on the waiting carriages.

"Still, you are not the only one who has been busy executing a plan today. I happened to run into someone on my way inside."

"Hm?"

Confused, Penelope followed the direction of his gaze, and her eyes widened slightly. Emerging from the shadow of the carriage line, she instantly spotted Mirelda hurrying toward them, whilst clutching a thick canvas bag tightly to her chest.

When the loyal maid finally stood before the noble couple, she offered a swift, breathless curtsy.

"Mirelda."

Penelope stepped forward, her heart swelling with genuine relief at the sight of the woman.

Mirelda managed a tentative, weary smile before extending the heavy canvas bag in her hands.

"Here, My Lady," she said quietly. "I successfully exchanged the original inheritance records for the forged ledger you gave me, just as you instructed. I was afraid that if I attempted to smuggle out the entire chest, the guards... or worse, your family, would grow suspicious. So I left the box where it was and took only the genuine documents from the treasury."

Penelope accepted the bag with both hands. For a moment, she simply stared at it, overwhelmed.

How was she supposed to express her gratitude to the woman who had risked everything for her?

A sharp pang of guilt and appreciation tightened in her chest.

She had to admit to herself that a sharp spike of panic had gripped her chest when Mirabel had first brandished that box in the courtyard. But once the girl had torn the pages apart and scattered them, a closer look at the script had revealed that they were indeed the fake ones she had prepared for this very trap. She knew that her refusal to comply would provoke someone into acting rashly.

So she came prepared.

Holding the satchel close to her chest, she looked at Mirelda.

"You have helped me more than you know, Mirelda," she said softly. "Thank you."

Vincent, immediately noticing the weight of the bag, reached over and relieved her of it without a word. Penelope surrendered it without protest, allowing him to carry it on her behalf.

The seamless, unspoken exchange had Mirelda looking between the couple with quiet wonder, vividly remembering how Penelope had told her that she was being treated with great care and respect within the Devereux estate. The interaction felt almost unbelievable to Mirelda.

She was used to her mistress being wary of the Marquis.

Seeing it now with her own eyes, she realized her lady’s words had not been an exaggeration after all.

"You will come with me to my husband’s home," Pemelope said softly, gesturing toward the carriage. "You will be treated a lot better there than you ever were in this wretched place. Do come with me."

Behind her, Vincent’s ears twitched instinctively the exact moment the word husband left her lips.

Husband.

Her husband.

His grip on the satchel tightened.

Outwardly, he kept his expression characteristically stoic, revealing nothing to those around him, but internally, he found himself unexpectedly fixated on the way the title had sounded when spoken in her voice.

His wife just called him her husband.

He discovered that he liked the sound of it very much indeed.

Mirelda simply lowered her head in a deeply, respectful bow.

"I am profoundly honored by your generosity, My Lady, but I humbly ask that you allow me to refuse."