My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 52

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 52
Chapter 5. Secrets (9)
Lucius moved with deliberate slowness.
He rose carefully to avoid waking her, and the perceptive butler entered, wheeling a tray before him.
“Sir, you’re awake?”
Lucius brought his index finger to his lips, gesturing toward the butler.
The practiced servant stopped at once, nodding in understanding.
Yet the moment his searching gaze fell upon Celia’s white hair scattered across the bed, he froze entirely. It was precisely the reaction Lucius had anticipated.
“I had come to inquire about your morning preparations, but……”
“I’ll be late.”
Lucius answered curtly and moved away from the bedside toward the window.
His shoulders, turned against the dawn light, straightened with quiet dignity. The butler approached from behind, unfurling the morning coat, and Lucius drew it on while gazing out at the day just breaking beyond the glass.
“Have breakfast ready the moment Celia wakes. I want it prepared immediately.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Today’s schedule—hmm, I suppose it cannot be cancelled?”
“Unfortunately not. The groundbreaking ceremony for the Albion Bridge is today, sir.”
Of all days, he would have to rush away without seeing her open her eyes. It was already settled, yet the regret remained impossible to suppress.
He turned from the butler and drew close to the bed.
Shielding her sleeping form in his shadow, he brushed her hair back, and her brow creased faintly in response.
“Mm.”
An ineffable satisfaction rose tight within his chest.
“Roton.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When Celia wakes in a little while—”
He trailed off, pausing briefly.
Lucius’s mornings had always followed a fixed pattern.
Upon rising, he would draw back all the curtains to let in the light, wet his lips with Black Tea. Then breakfast, exercise, and a bath. A rhythm without deviation.
Yet Celia was his opposite in every way.
She scarcely opened her eyes until the sun had long since poured into the room, and sitting at the table with a newly woken face was something she loathed. She disliked the bright morning light, and she was peculiarly sensitive to the early air.
“When she wakes, don’t make the room too bright.”
He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care.
“She’ll likely refuse food, but prepare it anyway so she might eat. And make the room warmer—the air is already turning cold.”
“The temperature is still quite mild, sir. Might she find it too warm?”
“Celia feels the cold.”
“Understood. I shall prepare it thus.”
One needed only to observe how she drew her shawl thick around herself when evening deepened even slightly to know it was true.
He wondered if the old Lucius Windmere had known such things about her.
He found he no longer cared.
‘She’s mine.’
There was no place left in this world for his former self to stand.
As these hours together accumulated, he would come to know far more about her. And someday, the past would be buried beneath the present.
If this moment could only continue, he felt he could do anything.
“Sir, your father has requested to see you briefly after your outing today.”
Anything at all.
Lucius wound the end of Celia’s hair around his finger and pressed his lips to it briefly. When he lifted his head, his face held only a tranquil stillness.
***
“Since it’s still morning, keep breakfast simple.”
Alzener flicked his fingertips.
The Chef, standing nearby, responded instantly to the gesture with a bow. There was no excess in his bearing toward the master of Windmere, returned home after so long.
“Understood. Shall I prepare it as always—toasted white bread, eggs with cream, smoked meat, and Black Tea?”
Unlike the other gentle members of his household, Alzener carried an air of authority, so the Chef asked with utmost deference.
“Prepare it exactly so.”
“Very good, sir.”
The Chef hurried away to prepare the meal.
Alzener raised the darkly brewed Coffee to his lips.
The bitter aroma rose first. After taking a sip, he unfolded the morning newspaper on the table. The paper rustled with a crisp, orderly sound. Yet that peace was short-lived.
The thin pages in his hands crumpled suddenly.
[ The Shocking Secret of the Windmere Minor Lord’s Marriage! Is the Bedroom of a Noble House Truly Peaceful? ]
“What in the—!”
He did not even pause to steady his breathing before his gaze dropped lower.
As he scanned the pages with equal attention to commercial sheets, economic reports, and gossip columns, his facial muscles grew rigid by degrees.
[ Reports have emerged that the lady was seen strolling through the streets at an early hour, leaning upon her husband’s arm. ]
[ Witnesses have begun testifying that the couple’s relationship recently appears far ‘closer’ than previously assumed. ]
[ There are even reports that the atmosphere within the estate has of late changed dramatically from before! One observer noted…… ]
Exaggerated vocabulary typical of the gossip press, deliberately inflated descriptions filled every page. Alzener’s fury descended his throat faster than the Coffee.
“These contemptible wretches, daring to write such filth about my son!”
Alzener Windmere was a man of this nature.
The House of Brickwell had built its power through force and dominion; the House of Windmere through diplomacy and politics. Outwardly, the former appeared reckless and the latter cold, yet this assessment was only half true.
Though the two houses differed in disposition, Alzener Windmere among them had been born with a fiery temperament and an aggressive nature.
“The fool—he’s lost his memory so thoroughly he can’t even recognize his own enemy!”
Thus the relatively docile Lucius had always seemed to Alzener a son woefully lacking.
There had been a time when he’d entertained an even harsher thought.
‘If only Celia Brickwell were my daughter instead… Bah!’
That combative, unflinching temperament was something even Alzener, despite his hatred of the House of Brickwell, could not help but grudgingly acknowledge. Of course, he had never lifted the conviction that a Brickwell could hardly have clean hands.
‘When I think of that wretch who could not even properly dominate a single girl, cowering like that……’
Every such thought that arose was nothing but further proof of how little he trusted Lucius.
He pressed his fist slowly against the table.
“How much time will it take to make him a proper man again.”
His already angular features hardened into a terrible coldness.
He posed his question to the servant standing against the wall without even glancing in his direction.
“Lucius goes out today, does he not.”
“Yes, sir. I understand he is going out for business regarding the Albion Bridge.”
At the answer that came, Alzener steadied his breathing and composed his expression.
“Tell him to visit me when he returns.”
He did not doubt for a moment that his son, now without his memory, remained securely within his grasp. For he believed himself to understand Lucius Windmere better than anyone—the man he had raised and taught.
***
Lucius Windmere……!
Long after he had gone, when late afternoon came at last, Celia opened her eyes and hurled her pillow aside with a harsh breath.
It was hardly some naive young lady’s complaint—that her bedmate had vanished the moment she woke, or that he’d left not a single sweet word behind.
The problem was the scene he had left in his wake.
“Just a little more, please. All right?”
“If my lady won’t eat, we servants will catch it.”
Lucius had gone out to his affairs, and in his place, he had… filled the room with people.
“If the meal does not suit your taste, shall we prepare something fresh?”
As Celia held her mouth shut and sent out a sharp glance alone, the neat elderly butler stepped forward.
It was Roton, who had long served in the House of Windmere.
“That’s enough.”
“Then I shall prepare tea to warm your insides.”
Roton moved without hesitation. He presented Black Tea with lemon, and the moment Celia accepted the cup, the attendants withdrew quietly.
“Go and bring Anne.”
“Anne, sir? The attendant who serves the young lady?”
“That’s the one.”
“Very good.”
True to his capable nature, Roton returned with Anne even before the steam had fully risen from the Black Tea.
“M-m-madam!!”
Anne, who had come running upon hearing that Celia was in Lucius’s room, trembled as though she might faint at any moment.
“Anne. Come here and help me dress.”
“O-of course, ma’am.”
Anne hurried forward.
Only when she saw the room crowded with Windmere servants did she manage to compose herself, but the moment she followed Celia into the dressing room and the gown fell away, that pretense shattered entirely.
“Whatever… what is the meaning of this?”
Celia’s nose wrinkled. She was not unaccustomed to being undressed and attended before men. Yet there were things one showed and things one did not, and this was decidedly the latter.
“Never mind—hurry.”
Anne fumbled to gather the clothes, her hands repeatedly crossing awkwardly over one another.
“The Windmere Minor Lord… I hadn’t seen him that way. He’s quite possessive, it seems.”
“……”
“To leave such marks upon your lovely skin! Gracious… truly gracious!”
Never in her life had she endured such humiliation.
When Lucius came back, she would make absolutely certain he heard about it.
Once dressed, Celia emerged with the fierceness from before somewhat diminished.
Yet regrettably, the world seemed not particularly inclined to favor her today.
“Young lady.”
“What is it?”
“The matter is……”
Roton stepped closer and lowered his voice.
“Your elder has sent word. She wishes you to attend an afternoon tea party today.”
Celia furrowed her brow and fell silent for a moment.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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