My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 54

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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 54
Chapter 6. A Lull (1)
As the door opened, Celia stepped inside with unhurried grace.
There was no trace of urgency in her gait—she moved as though crossing the threshold of a salon. Her dry eyes swept across the study: the late sunset casting its glow, blood glinting on Roton’s forehead, Lucius with his hand still raised, and Alzner standing with a paperweight clutched in his grip.
“My first time in the study of the Duke of Windmere.”
She drew the back of her hand lightly to her lips and smiled softly—the very picture of a world-weary noblewoman delivering a jest.
“Who could have guessed this would prove more amusing than observing our caged beasts at home?”
Alzner’s face hardened with displeasure.
Celia took another step forward, gesturing toward Roton with a slight tilt of her chin.
“Is it the custom in House of Windmere to keep your butler sprawled upon the floor?”
“The woman from House of Brickwell.”
Alzner strode toward her.
Celia tilted her head slowly, her blue eyes measuring him from above, appraising him with their downward gaze.
“And yet Your Grace is ever so gracious in greeting his guests in precisely this manner.”
Lucius immediately stepped between them.
“Step back.”
“Move aside! Someone needs to teach you to mind your—”
The moment Alzner raised his voice, Eleanor rushed in between them.
“Husband, please stop!”
But Alzner brushed her aside as if sweeping away an annoying curtain.
Her slender frame stumbled sideways, and with a brief cry she collided with a chair.
Lucius bolted forward as though throwing himself into motion, catching Eleanor before she could fall. He supported her shoulders and waist in one fluid movement, his face oddly serene despite the violence of the moment.
Until that instant, Celia had remained composed—but now she suddenly laughed, a bright sound, and clapped her hands.
“How remarkable you are! Not content with splitting the old butler’s brow, you must now lay hands upon your lady wife as well!”
“Do you think I would hesitate to strike you?”
The veins at his temple swelled and pulsed with rage, yet his hand did not rise. Celia taunted him for his hesitation.
“Will you strike me, then?”
She tilted her chin upward, tapping her own cheek lightly with her fingertips.
“Go ahead.”
In the gleam of her bright blue eyes, Alzner’s face twisted grotesquely.
“You beat your own son so readily enough—why should it be so difficult for me?”
At that moment, Lucius’s face entered Celia’s line of sight.
“Celia Brickwell!”
He still held Eleanor half-supported in his arms, yet his eyes never left Celia for a moment. Beneath the shuttered lashes, something rippled like disturbed water—layers rising to the surface of a face long submerged.
The intensity of his gaze upon her was such that Celia felt her throat inexplicably dry.
‘What are those eyes—’
Alzner’s cry tore through that exchange of looks.
“You damned Brickwell wretch, burrowing into this household like a serpent!”
He truly did raise his hand toward her sneering figure.
It was Lucius, with so many others to protect, who acted without hesitation. He appeared from nowhere, wrapping his arm around Celia’s waist and pulling her against him.
“Let go!”
As she struggled, his grip only tightened.
Finally, from within his embrace, she cried out.
“If you mean to strike, then strike! Good heavens, and here I thought the illustrious Duke of Windmere was above raising his hand to family. But now even to the wife of his own son? What if I run to the Imperial Capital and weep? Or throw myself at my father in Brickwell? What if I tell everyone that I’m terrified of the Duke of Windmere?”
Her hands thrashed, nails raking across his sleeve as she twisted against him.
His breath came harsh and ragged, his shoulders heaving, yet the last tremor of emotion seemed to drain from Lucius’s face.
“Celia, compose yourself.”
He drew her deeper into his arms and issued a curt order to the attendants.
“Escort my mother from the room, and summon a physician for Roton.”
Servants scattered into nervous motion.
Eleanor attempted to speak, but Lucius did not turn.
His gaze remained fixed solely upon Alzner.
“I will be leaving.”
His words were so coldly resolute that even Celia swallowed.
“To be clear, this is not a request—it is notice.”
“Lucius Windmere!”
Alzner’s face froze into a rigid mask.
Celia drew breath and looked up at him. This was Lucius Windmere—the man who would have drawn a blade against her at any moment for his father’s sake.
And yet the man standing beside her now was not that man at all.
“And henceforth, you will not lay a hand upon my mother. Should such a scene repeat itself even once more, I will no longer confine this matter to family discretion.”
Alzner’s throat worked visibly.
“After all I have done to raise you—”
Lucius laughed at those words.
His lips parted slowly, his teeth flashing white.
“As you know, there is little in my head to begin with.”
As he turned, Celia turned with him, held within his arms.
For that moment, it was as if they were dancing a waltz together.
“I would prefer we not meet privately henceforth. If you hold any concern for your future, I urge you not to dismiss this warning.”
The blade that had been turned toward her was now leveled at something entirely different.
“Do not interfere with us again.”
Thud.
The door closed behind them.
***
In the grey hours before dawn, Evandor Brickwell moved down the long corridor with brisk, unhesitating strides.
“Going to see sister?”
A voice halted his footsteps.
He turned, and beside a pillar he found a figure backlit by early morning—a young man whose face gleamed pale in the dawning light.
“Leium.”
Evandor recognized him without difficulty.
“Why aren’t you asleep at this hour?”
His tone was cold, yet beneath those words lay unmistakable concern.
“I woke early. Thought I’d get some air.”
“Where are your attendants?”
“They’re all sleeping. I didn’t want to wake them for no reason.”
Evandor’s eyes hardened.
“That’s precisely what attendants are for. Do you think they pocket their wages for nothing? If you collapse wandering about alone, what then? Stop being so reckless.”
Before others, Evandor mimicked the bearing of his grandfather and father—arrogant in speech, uncompromising in manner. Yet before Leium, his twin brother, his posture as an elder brother bore an uncanny resemblance to Celia.
“Don’t be like that. I don’t like it. Today I just wanted to walk alone.”
……
“Are you going to see sister?”
Leium asked again, stepping into his path.
Even in high summer, a persistent cough wracked his frame, his chest heaving. A low, rasping sound broke the dawn silence like ripples on still water.
“Here. Come on.”
Evandor finally removed his outer robe and tossed it to Leium.
“Thanks.”
Leium drew the garment around himself without hesitation.
“No, I’m not going to see sister. It’ll be a while before I can meet with her.”
“Really? That’s a shame.”
Leium turned away with a disappointed expression. Unlike Evandor, who ventured out occasionally, Leium had gone a considerable time without seeing Celia.
Confined always within the household by his frail constitution, Leium occupied a different standing from the bastards than Evandor and Celia did.
At least to them, Leium was a being so far removed from creatures like Diana, the one he had just learned about, that he could not even be placed in the same category.
“Father! Please… if you would grant me just one more chance……!”
That cursed woman’s voice still lingered in his ears.
Diana, clinging so desperately, had sought to remain as a member of House of Brickwell—yet Edmund’s choice between her and Celia had been unambiguous, and she was sent back to her original place.
There was nothing strange about it.
‘Sister sent some information about Windmere not long ago.’
Diana had been summoned as a substitute to fill Celia’s shortcomings, and now that Celia had proven her worth, Diana’s value had naturally evaporated.
Everything hinged on utility.
‘Besides, that creature was busy tattling to Father, trying to seize sister’s place. I’m glad to see her go.’
What made family, family?
They were not like those connected by half a bloodline, bearing not even the name of House of Brickwell.
The pride of direct descent, the honor that came with bearing the family name, and the time spent being raised the same way by the same mother.
All of it differed fundamentally from the bastards.
Evandor had never once acknowledged the bastards as family. He had built his bonds with his siblings by rejecting outsiders.
And so his next words too were merely a shallow form of pity that only they could share.
“If you have anything you’d like to tell sister, I’ll pass it along later.”
“Really?”
Leium’s face brightened at once.
His eyes, catching the early light, shone with unusual clarity. Unable to conceal his joy, he took a step closer, then paused to glance around.
“Actually, I overheard Father talking with some others—”
And at what followed, Evandor’s face went rigid.

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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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