A Change of Husband - Chapter 1

“Madam.”

 

At some point, Asilie had grown more used to being called “Madam,” with someone else’s last name attached, than her own.

 

Maybe she had lost her name along with everything else long ago—forgotten what she had been like as a child, what kind of personality she had, and what she used to love.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Asilie turned her head at last to look into the mirror when Sophia asked softly.

 

In Astel, only married women are allowed to dress up.

 

It’s a conservative tradition where unmarried girls must keep even a single strand of hair neat and always behave properly.

 

That’s why Asilie’s appearance was extravagant.

 

Her wavy blonde hair was decorated with expensive jeweled pins, falling down to her chest. Her red dress, with its smooth shoulders completely exposed, showed off her slim figure.

 

She looked no different from the noblewomen of Astel attending a grand social gathering.

 

“You look stunning. Thank you, Sophia.”

 

“No, Madam. I only brought out the beauty you already have. I’m sure, tonight, you’ll be the most beautiful woman at the ball. Hohoho.”

 

Madam Marce added with a smile.

 

“His Grace the Duke will fall for you all over again today.”

 

Hearing their compliments, Asilie turned back to the mirror.

 

She looked so beautiful, it was hard to believe there had been a time when she had confidently thought she had no charm to attract anyone.

 

“Sir Denta will escort you to the ballroom, Madam.”

 

“What about the Duke?”

 

“He had business to attend to and said he’d be waiting in the ballroom.”

 

“Oh, that’s right.”

 

Caught up in excitement for today’s ball, she had even forgotten that her husband, Duke Esperad Camediçi, had important plans earlier.

 

But Asilie didn’t think anyone could blame or scold her for that.

 

Today was the day she had longed for with all her heart.

 

“Madam, are you all right? You don’t look well…”

 

Maybe her face had become too stiff—Madam Marce asked with concern.

 

Realizing how she must look, Asilie forced a small smile.

 

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

 

She stood up, slipping her wedding ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.

 

It was a reminder of how much she had changed—and a source of courage.

 

“Quite the rise in status.”

 

“Who would’ve guessed the adopted daughter of the Grandier family would marry the so-called cursed Duke of Camediçi?”

 

“Probably the Duke pushed for the marriage. She’s just the adopted daughter, after all. It looks good on the outside, but she’s from a humble background, so there’s nothing to clean up later…”

 

“He must have thought it was worth the gamble. Every time this happens, I think, people say women are cunning like foxes, but really, men do more scheming. Hohoho.”

 

“You’re right. Even the upright-looking Duke of Camediçi couldn’t help it. The fact that the marriage was a calculation says it all.”

 

There were many rumors about the Duke and Duchess of Camediçi.

 

Of course there were—their marriage was a hot topic.

 

Asilie Grandier, the adopted daughter of the Duke of Grandier—who was old enough to have a granddaughter, not a daughter.

 

And Esperad Camediçi, whose former fiancées had all died mysteriously, making him a handsome duke from a prestigious family with no one willing to marry him.

 

They seemed to have no connection at all, yet they had suddenly gotten married without even a formal engagement. The news had sent shockwaves through society.

 

And today was their first public appearance as a couple.

 

Naturally, all conversation was focused on the mysterious pair.

 

“Aren’t you curious what will happen to the Duchess of Camediçi?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“They just got married, didn’t they?”

 

“Now that you mention it…”

 

“The first fiancée, Lady Triburn, died three months after the engagement. The second, Lady Cassnut, and the third, Lady Gariburn, all died a couple of months after getting engaged.”

 

All eyes turned to the beautiful woman who spoke.

 

“It’s only been two weeks since the Duchess married the Duke. She could still die. It’s too soon to relax.”

 

“How rude.”

 

At the cold voice, the women turned their heads. They quickly covered their faces with fans, flustered.

 

Only the woman who brought up the topic of death stayed calm, not even pretending to feel awkward.

 

Asilie knew who she was.

 

Monica Bellucci, the “Rose of Society”. Every woman in Astel wanted to be like her.

 

She was also the eldest daughter of the wealthy Bellucci family, made rich through trade.

 

Everyone wondered who would marry this rich beauty—but Asilie already knew the answer.

 

Of course. Before she turned back time, Monica had been her sister-in-law.

 

The same woman who had always looked down on her, tormented her, and made herself feel superior.

 

“You misunderstand, Duchess Camediçi.”

 

As always, Monica smiled gracefully.

 

“I know it sounded that way. But none of us meant any harm. We were simply curious.”

 

“So you were discussing whether I’ll live or die, out in the open for everyone to hear?”

 

“Oh my, we were just talking out of concern. Hoping the curse troubling Astel would be broken.”

 

“Lady Bellucci.”

 

“No one here harbors ill will toward you, Duchess. Certainly not me. So please, don’t worry.”

 

Monica spoke as if soothing a kitten.

 

Asilie had seen that look many times before. Back then, foolishly, she had always fallen for it—crying alone where no one could hear her.

 

But that pitiful version of Asilie no longer existed.

 

“That’s not something you should be saying to me.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Talking about the death of someone still alive is extremely inappropriate. Unlike the others, you don’t even seem sorry, so I can’t tell anymore whether your words are good or evil.”

 

“It was a simple mistake, with no bad intentions. You scolding me like this in front of everyone is quite surprising, honestly.”

 

Asilie recognized the pattern.

 

They always made her look like the unreasonable one for getting angry.

 

In the past, because of Monica’s manipulations, everyone called Asilie petty and selfish. She had no choice but to stay quiet.

 

“It may have been a mistake, but did you even apologize?”

 

“That’s…”

 

“Even a five-year-old says sorry when they know they’ve done wrong. You truly make it hard not to pity you, Lady Bellucci.”

 

“Madam…”

 

Monica tried to say something, but Asilie cut her off with a hard look.

 

“I’m not joking.”

 

Her voice wasn’t loud, but everyone in the ballroom heard her.

 

“You made a joke of whether I would die or not. That’s not something you can call a simple mistake.”

 

“I didn’t mean to insult you.”

 

“Then apologize. With your honor.”

 

Monica’s face changed.

 

In Astel, apologizing with one’s honor means admitting fault and begging forgiveness with full sincerity—staking your name on it.

 

No one asks for that unless they’re prepared for serious consequences between noble houses.

 

So this wasn’t just a fight between Asilie and Monica—it signaled a rift between House Camediçi and House Bellucci.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Of course. Didn’t you admit it was a mistake yourself?”

 

By now, their relationship couldn’t be repaired, even with an apology.

 

But she couldn’t avoid it either—she had admitted her mistake.

 

Not apologizing would mean she had no manners, and it would go against noble etiquette.

 

She could be shunned by everyone.

 

Her, the woman everyone adored!

 

“…I apologize. On my honor.”

 

She had no choice.

 

Monica glared at Asilie, determined never to forget this.

 

Then, she spoke slowly, carefully.

 

“Please… let me make it up to you.”

 

Asilie smiled.

 

To others, it was a gentle smile. But Monica, standing right in front of her, could see the truth.

 

Asilie was mocking her.

 

“Lady Bellucci.”

 

Asilie’s voice now sounded sweet.

 

“I have no intention of demanding anything unreasonable. So don’t worry.”

 

Monica’s face twisted again at those same words she had once used.

 

But there was nothing she could do.

 

She could only endure the humiliation.

 

“Thank you, Madam. Then, as a token of my apology, would you accept this handkerchief?”

 

If Asilie accepted, it would mean she agreed to forgive Monica.

 

But unexpectedly, Asilie shook her head.

 

“No.”

 

“…What?”

 

“Could I ask for something else instead? If you’re truly sorry.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“That ribbon you used to braid your hair. May I have it?”

 

The calm request stirred the room.

 

In Astel, unmarried women must wear high-necked dresses and tightly braid their hair with no loose strands.

 

Giving away her hair ribbon meant standing before everyone not as a proper maiden—but as a woman of questionable virtue.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Besides, it doesn’t look like you’ll need it anymore.”

 

Asilie smirked, driving the point home.

 

Monica’s eyes widened. Her voice trembled.

 

“Why would I not need it anymore?”

 

“Well…”

 

At Asilie’s relaxed answer, Monica clutched her skirt tightly.

 

Asilie looked at her like a spectator enjoying the show, then spoke again.

 

“If it’s too much trouble, never mind.”

 

She turned and walked away. Monica didn’t stop her.

 

That was the end.

 

A simple ending, yet Asilie knew—it was only the beginning.

 

And she found it almost funny.

 

Was it really this easy?

 

Was it always this small?

 

Then why had she spent so long suffering?

 

To Asilie, Monica had always been scary.

 

She used to tremble, unsure of what venomous words Monica would say next. Like a child afraid of ghosts.

 

And she had also been…

 

“Asilie.”

 

At the soft voice calling her name, Asilie turned around.

 

The tall man standing there had black hair and blue eyes. A striking, masculine beauty.

 

But Asilie didn’t need to see his face to know who he was.

 

He was the only one who called her by her name—Esperad Camediçi, her husband.

 

“Finally, we meet.”

 

“Are you all right?”

 

The question left much unsaid, but Asilie knew what he meant.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“I heard what happened and was worried. I’m sorry, Asilie. You had to go through that because of me.”

 

“I expected it. Don’t worry.”

 

She smiled, truly, for the first time that night.

 

“But Esperad, is it just me, or is everyone staring at us?”

 

“Sadly, I can feel it too, Asilie. So, I’m afraid I’ll need to trouble you.”

 

Esperad stepped closer and offered his hand.

 

Asilie looked down at it silently.

 

She felt something stir inside. There had been many moments like this, but never before had his hand felt this warm.

 

“May I have the honor of walking with you?”

 

Even his way of asking her to dance was charming.

 

Everything today felt familiar—but at the same time, like a first experience.

 

Asilie knew she would never forget this strange feeling.

 

“Of course.”

 

Together, they walked to the center of the ballroom.

 

They weren’t the only couple dancing, but strangely, all eyes were on them.

 

“They seem different from the rumors.”

 

“They do. It’s like…”

 

“They look like a couple who fell in love and got married.”

 

The sight of the couple, who had just begun to dance, was like a beautiful painting.

 

The Duke of Camedici gently wrapped his arm around his wife’s slender waist, as if trying to protect her in the unfamiliar social scene of the capital. The Duchess of Camedici smiled warmly and whispered something to him.

 

People watched them with curious eyes, as if they were in a world of their own.

 

“Asilie, I’ll need to step away to request an audience with His Majesty the King. If you feel uneasy without me, you may return to the mansion first. Madame Marce will be waiting there.”

 

“I’ll do that. But… she seems to be working too hard.”

 

“It is her duty.”

 

As their dance came to an end, Esperad whispered to her,

 

“So don’t forget—you’re the lady of my house.”

 

Though his words were stiff, Asilie knew he was trying to give her courage while he had to leave her alone.

 

“I won’t forget. But, Esperad…”

 

She tried to whisper something to him—but couldn’t.

 

It was because of the sudden noise, loud enough to overpower even the grand music playing.

 

Asilie turned around at the strange commotion—and her eyes widened.

 

“…!”

 

Though quite some time had passed since the ball began, a man had just arrived.

 

But the reason people were whispering wasn’t just because he was late.

 

The newly arrived man instantly drew everyone’s attention with his dazzling good looks.

 

With curly golden hair and blue eyes that shone like jewels, he was so striking that anyone would have been captivated.

 

Asilie couldn’t take her eyes off him for a long time.

 

If someone had seen her like that, they might have said the newlywed Duchess of Camedici had fallen for the handsome looks of Count Bonaparte’s eldest son, Joseph.

 

She knew exactly what it would look like—but even so, she couldn’t look away.

 

It wasn’t because Joseph was so handsome that any unmarried noblewoman would dream of marrying him.

 

“Asilie?”

 

Startled by the sudden tension in their joined hands, Esperad looked at her and called her name.

 

But Asilie didn’t reassure him—nor could she take her eyes off Joseph.

 

It was only natural.

 

Because behind that charming appearance, Joseph Bonaparte was a terrible monster.

 

Before she returned to the past, Joseph had killed both Asilie and the child in her womb.

 

He was the father of that poor child—and her husband.

 

That damned bastard.