I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 83

Diana could not hide her astonishment. Her instincts told her this was no mere coincidence.

Strength surged into her once-slumped body as she began to closely examine the areas Lillian had marked.

Among them, one particular note stood out—the one where Lillian had left a comment-like memo. There was a place that seemed the most likely candidate.

“There was a clear hint right here all along.”

It’s often said that the answer is always close at hand—so why had Diana wasted so much effort all this time?

“No, that’s not it. I was only able to recognize it because I had the information.”

Without the data she had gathered, she would have passed by obliviously, just like the Count and Countess.

She took out her notebook and tore off a piece from the edge. Then, with a sharp pen nib, she began writing down the precious information she had collected.

One place name written on the white paper. Diana, studying it carefully, soon began adding more notes.

Just as she was finishing up in deep concentration, the door opened. Before the person who entered could see the paper, she quickly crumpled it into her palm.

“Lillian.”

It was Count Mernard.

For a moment, Diana’s breath caught in her throat. Feeling suffocated, she pressed her chest gently with her hand.

Though her gaze was fixed forward, all her nerves focused on the closet behind her. The vivid memory of that day rushed back, and her vision went white.

Her arm tensed, her palm twitched. Realizing what she was holding, Diana quickly composed herself.

“What brings you here?”

Her heart pounded as though she had been caught stealing. From her clenched fist to her arm, the skin over her muscles felt like it was burning.

“…You had something you wanted to say, didn’t you?”

The Count’s idle stare made her uncomfortable. To divert his attention, Diana deliberately initiated the conversation.

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

“Please, speak freely.”

“I was wondering how you’ve been. It’s hard to express such things in front of others, so I thought we could talk alone. I also have a favor to ask…”

Alone with him.

It wasn’t shamelessness—it was thoughtlessness.

He didn’t seem to grasp how that day had affected her—no, he didn’t even try to understand. That’s probably why he could say such things so casually.

She felt pathetic for having been so afraid of a man like him.

He had forgotten that day so easily, acting as if nothing had happened—so why was she still so afraid?

“…You were wondering how I’ve been?”

“…”

“Thanks to you, Father. Thanks to you, even the tiniest speck of affection I had left is gone. I’m much more at ease now.”

Her emotions surged, and she couldn’t completely hide the tremble in her voice. Still, Diana continued firmly, her voice gentle but resolute.

The day she was locked in the closet. The day she collapsed and lost consciousness. The day the Count forced her into the carriage and sent her away.

She had made a vow. She would never again try to be the obedient daughter to him. No matter the humiliation, she would not cower before him again.

Sensing something off, the Count searched his memory. Eventually, he recalled his past cruelty.

“Is this because of that incident?”

He had harshly scolded her in anger the last time. Perhaps he had gone too far.

Checking that the door was properly shut, the Count approached her with a smile.

“My daughter, Dian.”

Then, for the first time in his life, he called her by her true name.

In the past, he had always called her simply “Diana,” with no warmth or familiarity. This was a stark contrast.

Diana had long secretly wished for him to gently call her by her real name. She had often wondered when her hidden wish would be fulfilled.

Had she hoped for too much, leaving her disappointed? Or had her affection for him faded without her even realizing?

Even after pulling out his final card, the Count saw no change in Diana’s expression. Growing anxious, he even reached out to brush her hair aside.

“I’m truly sorry about that day. I was too young then. I only wanted to protect you… not just me, but I feared for your safety, too…”

“…”

“Look at you now. You’ve done so well. Everyone praises you. Your mother and I are proud of you.”

His kind expression, voice, and touch were the same ones he showed Lillian.

His wrinkled hand brushed over her radiant golden hair, shining like the sun on a bright summer afternoon, then moved to her soft, downy cheek.

For a fleeting moment, Diana sensed something was wrong.

There’s no way Count Mernard would swallow his pride to appease her just because of that incident.

At least, not the Count she knew. The very man who had forced her into that carriage, even after treating her cruelly.

The Count she knew was not someone who would repent in just a few months.

“It’s hypocrisy.”

Even his apology wasn’t genuine. How much longer, how much further would he disappoint her?

Realizing he had an ulterior motive, Diana narrowed her eyes and cast him a sidelong glance.

“…Very well. I can understand, to some extent, how you and Mother must feel. But didn’t you say there was something you wanted to talk about? Would you care to tell me now?”

Diana lifted the corners of her lips as if nothing were amiss, just as she always did.

Hearing her gentle voice, the Count seemed to believe that his daughter’s heart had softened. He immediately moved on to the main point.

“It’s about the dinner gathering. There’s a matter I’d like to request of Duke Valencia.”

“…A request for His Grace?”

She had expected an ulterior motive—but to think it would be so shameless, so brazen.

In her disbelief, Diana momentarily forgot her role and replied with a cold, detached voice.

But the Count, too caught up in his own schemes, failed to notice even the slightest change in her demeanor and continued rambling.

“I’m considering starting a large-scale business venture, but due to its size, the estate alone doesn’t have nearly enough capital. So, I need an investor…”

Even he seemed to know how far-fetched the idea sounded, as his gaze grew unsteady.

“Is that really necessary, Father? You’re already earning enough from your current ventures. Is there truly a need to pursue something on such a large scale?”

“…I was ashamed to admit it, but truthfully, all the businesses I’ve been running recently have been operating at a loss. The estate’s finances are unstable.”

That was a blatant lie. The claim that the Count’s businesses were suffering was a fabrication, hastily thrown in to gain her sympathy.

Lately, the House of Valencia had been rapidly rising in power, and the Count’s household, allied with them, had benefited from that surge in prestige.

Securing investment from such a house to launch a new venture would undoubtedly draw attention.

One might expect a man to feel humiliated reaching out to a family he once looked down upon, but the Count—blinded by greed—felt no such shame.

“So, I thought I’d ask for some support from the Duke’s house.”

If anything, he seemed proud.

Faced with such brazenness, Diana was left momentarily speechless.

“…It’s your business, so I won’t offer any further comment. However, if you need an investor, find someone else. The House of Valencia will not become financially entangled in your affairs.”

Though Diana had long maintained a nominal obedience to her parents, even she would, at times, express refusal.

Usually, with a bit of persuasion, the Count could get things to go his way. But today, she left not even a crack for negotiation.

“Isn’t that what family is for? It’s not like I’m asking solely for my own benefit. His Grace would profit from it as well.”

Clearly, he still didn’t understand the core issue.

Diana had half a mind to end the conversation there. She had no desire to continue.

But this matter involved Ersivan.

He absolutely hated being entangled in her family affairs—and she felt exactly the same.

She couldn’t allow Ersivan to be harmed by her selfish family or her unfortunate family history.

In a calm yet resolute tone, Diana spoke again.

“I think you’re misunderstanding something, Father, so allow me to be clear. I’m not worried about His Grace suffering any loss. I simply don’t want either of you involved with each other in any way.”

“And why would you say that?”

“…Do you truly not know? You despise him, Father. Thoroughly.”

Not only do you despise him—you’ve completely ruined his life.

The truth choked her, bitter and unjust, yet she couldn’t speak it aloud. Instead, she fixed him with a cold, scathing glare.

“…That’s…”

The Count faltered, memories of the harsh words he had masked as criticisms rising to the surface.

Even a man as shameless as he seemed to possess a shred of conscience, for he looked genuinely embarrassed.

After coughing briefly as if he’d choked, he composed himself.

“You’ll understand once you become a parent. Sending your child to another household—it’s only natural to worry. No matter how fine and capable the other person seems, they always pale in comparison to one’s own child. That’s how parents are.”

She had spoken kindly, gently, yet he still refused to understand. Even after she went so far as to explain herself clearly, her so-called father continued clinging on, utterly shameless.

They say humans are creatures of adaptation. As her fear dulled with time, emotions once buried under the weight of dread began to surface.

And among them was a new feeling—one she had not clearly recognized before.

It was disgust.

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