My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 62

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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 62
Chapter 7. The Source (2)
Around the time rumors began circulating that Celia had just become pregnant.
Chloe, who had barricaded herself in the study, laughed upon hearing the news.
“Hehehehe.”
Her smooth, delicate hand rose to cover her lips as silent laughter spread across her face. Her eyes curved gently downward, and her lashes cast shadows. To a casual glance, it was the smile of a refined and dignified lady.
Yet given that the laughter continued even as her tea cooled, as servants replaced her cup, and as the sun beyond the window sank low, it was hardly a becoming sight.
“Lady Chloe…”
“Hmm?”
Olang, who had come to share the rumors with Chloe, called out to her cautiously.
“Are you… all right?”
She fidgeted with her hands, studying Chloe’s expression carefully.
‘Why did I even come here…!’
Olang was a young lady from a moderately distinguished family in the Southern Region, someone with whom Chloe had begun cultivating relations in recent weeks. Since returning from the Capital, Olang had taken to bringing her news of the outside world in Chloe’s stead—news she hadn’t set foot beyond the study to gather herself.
News concerning Lucius Windmere in particular.
Not a single noble clinging to life in the Southern Region dared to refuse the glory of borrowing the Larendel Marquis House’s name.
For that reason, Olang had been genuinely grateful for this opportunity. Just sharing a few outside tidbits and earning Chloe’s trust—it seemed almost too fortunate.
But it had only been a few days, and Olang had begun to find these visits increasingly uncomfortable.
‘I wonder if I might learn the name of an item Lord Lucius purchased?’
‘I heard many ladies frequented the shop Lord Lucius visited—was there anyone in particular who caught his eye?’
‘Lord Lucius—’
‘Lord Lucius…’
Lucius, Lucius, Lucius.
Olang had come to live with the name of a minor duke she’d never even met ringing constantly in her ears.
Rather than simply pining for a man she’d once harbored feelings for, there was something disturbingly relentless and sinister in Chloe’s demeanor that set Olang on edge.
“This rumor is of rather poor quality, I’m afraid?”
Chloe closed the book she’d been reading and lifted her head. She possessed such elegant bearing that it was difficult to believe she’d spent days shut away in the study.
[ A Study of Cerebral Structure and Memory Function ]
[ The Pathology of Forgetting and Remembrance ]
[ Observations on Mental Function Following Brain Injury. ]
Having inadvertently glimpsed the book titles, Olang deliberately looked away.
“It’s worse than merely poor quality.”
“…”
“Celia keeps becoming an obstacle to our love.”
Love. An obstacle.
The direct words falling from Chloe’s lips for the first time made Olang’s throat tighten.
Until the moment she heard that Celia had become pregnant, Olang had found herself inadvertently relieved—thinking that Chloe’s fixation on Lucius Windmere, or perhaps a delusion masquerading as fixation, would finally come to an end.
It seemed as though the estrangement between husband and wife was entirely in the past, and now there was even a child between them.
But it had all been a misunderstanding.
“Don’t make that face, Lady Olang. Celia likely isn’t pregnant at all.”
“How… can you be so certain?”
“Because Lord Lucius could never embrace a woman like Celia!”
She spoke with a bright smile.
Her smile gleamed like glazed porcelain—beautiful enough to draw admiration—yet Olang couldn’t suppress the cold sweat that broke across her skin.
“No matter what Lord Lucius’s current circumstances might be…”
What circumstances?
Setting aside her confusion, Chloe continued speaking to herself.
“Lord Lucius and Celia are fundamentally different. That he should see his own blood—half of it—born from such a woman’s womb…”
There was no doubt, no hesitation in her words.
“It’s absolutely impossible.”
Chloe traced back to that distant day when she first saw Lucius.
For the first time, warmth bloomed in her eyes as she drew upon that ancient memory.
How could one not love him? It was impossible. She longed to rest, even once, in that vast embrace, to receive mercy from those great hands.
A delicate tremor ran down her spine at the mere thought.
“Lord Lucius must find this rumor most disagreeable.”
She pressed her hands together before her chest.
“How deeply it must trouble him.”
The gesture was almost like a prayer.
“I think I must be the one to help.”
And mere days later, another rumor spread through the air of High Society.
A tale so scandalous that one could scarcely speak it aloud—that the child in Celia’s womb was not Lucius’s.
And somehow…
“Lady Olang. You did say you were attending Marquess Wexley’s Wine Party?”
The beautiful and graceful young lady Chloe, beloved by every lady in the Eastern Region.
“Would it be too much to ask you for one small favor?”
Olang felt a profound terror creep over her.
***
The Wine Party hosted once a year by Marquess Wexley, a distinguished member of the Imperial Council and the idol of young ladies.
The mansion’s ballroom had been filled with early-evening guests.
Crystal wine glasses gleamed atop tables spaced at regular intervals, and servants quietly filled them, their hands wrapped carefully around bottle necks to display the labels.
The fragrant aroma of Wine filled the hall.
Yet all eyes remained fixed on a single point, unwilling to waver.
A woman with long, snow-white hair sat at the center of a semicircular arrangement of sofas and chairs.
“What brings the Duchess to such a gathering?”
“She rarely shows her face at parties like these.”
“That’s not the real question! If the rumor is true… shouldn’t she be avoiding Wine altogether?”
A navy satin gown draped elegantly downward; a pearl pin tidily gathered her ivory hair. The tailored waist and the gracefully flaring skirt line achieved an exquisite balance of elegance.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
The lady of House of Brickwell, who seldom showed her face, retained the bearing that had once moved countless men to tears.
She leaned loosely against the armrest of her chair, tilted one shoulder, and supported her chin with a white-gloved hand as she quietly lifted her gaze.
“The Marquess specifically recommended it, Duchess.”
A servant holding a silver tray presented the Wine. It was a vintage reserved exclusively for the Marquess’s personal cellar.
‘How enviable.’
And from a short distance away, Olang, who had been watching the scene, found herself absently turning the glass in her hand.
‘Marquess Wexley is notoriously difficult to please, yet here she is making sure the Duchess of Windmere is attended to without a second thought.’
While everyone else watched to see whether Celia would actually drink the Wine, Olang alone muttered enviously to herself.
‘But what am I supposed to do? Lady Chloe asked me for something, and I don’t see how it’s even possible.’
A crowd surrounded her.
Olang took a step forward to approach, only to stumble when bumped by someone, and she repeated this cycle several times. She tried to circle around for another opportunity, but another visitor had already claimed the place beside Celia.
‘Won’t they just ignore someone like me if I try to speak?’
Those who addressed Celia Windmere were invariably of the highest rank.
Eventually, Olang changed direction and wandered across the carpet with uncertain steps.
“Lady Olang!”
Fortunately, a group of familiar young ladies soon called out to her warmly and made room.
Olang, who had been anxious just moments before while waiting for a chance to speak, immediately broke into a bright smile.
“Everyone! It’s been so long! What were you all discussing?”
These were ladies she’d met during her last visit to the Capital.
Having found her place, Olang settled beside them.
“We were discussing Edwin Balcaine’s work, ‘The Portrait of Secrets.'”
“Oh, that book! I read it when I was younger.”
The women sat in a circle, sighing with admiration and speculation about the ending of ‘The Portrait of Secrets,’ a work revered as the representative of literary fiction.
A love story set against the backdrop of a Port City. A tale that ends in ruin after love and escape.
“I read it for the first time recently, and I found it absolutely riveting. The ending especially… was quite unexpected.”
After several exchanges, some had reddened eyes.
“The ending was truly tragic.”
“Did it have to end in such tragedy? I wish at least one of them had survived!”
Olang nodded in agreement.
“It really was such a futile story!”
And in that moment.
“In that case, I’d like to recommend the adaptation by Marian de Bero.”
A voice clear and distinct as the middle register of a piano fell from directly behind.
Olang’s hand went still.
As she slowly turned her head, she saw a woman who had no business being here.
Celia Windmere.
Eyes as deep as an abyss, as cold as a glacier, and yet as vividly blue as a summer lake, gazed quietly down upon them.
“May I sit here?”
The noise of the ballroom seemed to recede into a distant haze.

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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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