Surviving as a Terminally Ill Heiress - Chapter 72

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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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Chapter 72

“Evidence?”
“A Jeweled Brooch belonging to the young lady was discovered in the fugitive suspect’s residence.”
“What? That can’t be… What kind of brooch?”
“A square platinum setting with a sapphire inlaid, or so I’m told.”
I blinked rapidly, then shook my head.
“Well, I can’t quite remember… Ah, I think I must have lost it.”
Adam glanced at me sharply at the vague reply, but didn’t press further.
In any case, they’d found physical evidence.
The circumstantial evidence of my resentment toward Scott, combined with actual testimony of my harassment, was more than sufficient.
In other words.
“Without a body, murder charges can’t technically be established, but given the circumstances….”
“That puts me at a disadvantage.”
“Miss.”
Perhaps hearing the tremor in my voice, Adam spoke with crisp certainty.
“Even if you were truly the murderer, it wouldn’t matter. I’ll win this trial no matter what. That’s my profession.”
“My goodness, Adam. That’s so reassuring.”
I clapped my hands in genuine gratification.
And that’s exactly why I can never escape Gustaf’s grasp.
“But this time, shouldn’t we lose?”
“…What?”
“We could lose twice if you’d like.”
Adam stood there dazed, clearly about to refuse—as though the very idea were absurd.
But I was faster.
“Otherwise, Grandfather might dismiss you too.”
I’d gained an accomplice.

* * *

The first trial was purely procedural from start to finish.
As if the verdict was already written.
Circumstantial evidence, conjecture, testimony, and physical evidence on top of it all.
‘Condemning one illegitimate noble daughter requires nothing more.’
Worse, Ambrose didn’t even attempt to intervene on my behalf.
I simply became the guilty party, sitting meekly in the defendant’s seat.
My lawyer Adam was reduced to mere defense.
And so came the second trial, where the Security Chief, testifying as an investigator, pressed forward with supreme confidence.
He was determined to drive the final nail in the coffin.
He laid out in exhaustive detail the bitter history between Scott and me.
That I’d tormented him at the Medical Institute, openly disparaged him, and most damning, he’d feared me before his disappearance.
“The defendant harbored clear malice toward Scott Cage! Moreover, we recovered financial transfers that appear to constitute payment for his murder!”
The gallery nodded in agreement.
Adam remained nearly silent this time as well.
He simply asked brief questions, as before.
“Has the body of Scott Cage been recovered? Has the actual perpetrator been apprehended?”
“…Not yet.”
“I see. That’s all.”
That was everything.
A murder without a corpse. And the alleged perpetrator I supposedly hired remained at large.
Adam hammered on that single point relentlessly.
It was enough to delay judgment.
And now came the third trial.
Due to the circumstances of the Duke Ambrose family, the schedule was unusually expedited, yet a full month had slipped away with me in custody nonetheless.
I grew visibly more gaunt with each passing day.
The Security Force hadn’t starved me, of course.
I simply refrained from eating for two days before each trial.
My appearance was captured skillfully by cameras the size of men and enterprising reporters, then circulated everywhere.
Thus it came to pass that in the depths of winter, with frost glittering in the air, no one left in Atera remained ignorant of my case.
“Remarkable how such a young lady could harbor such wickedness beneath such a fragile frame…”
“She still hasn’t confessed?”
“Honestly, how much longer does this trial intend to drag on?”
Each session filled the gallery with spectators who came to cluck their tongues.
Outside the courtroom doors, beyond the capital itself, journalists from provincial papers surely crowded the streets.
Yet not everyone wished to be here.
“Has the Duke Ambrose truly not made a single appearance?”
“Would such a busy man travel here to watch this? Don’t be absurd.”
“Indeed. Who’d care to look upon an illegitimate granddaughter who brings only shame to the household?”
“Still, Lady Olivia attends every session. My, she must be troubled. What a kind heart she possesses.”
“Truly, one can sense the inherent grace of her station.”
I heard every word. Not that I particularly minded.
Everyone had already begun showering Olivia with flattery—she’d become quite the beneficiary.
The future mother of the next Duke Ambrose, presumably.
‘Though Olivia herself seems to attend purely for the spectacle of my downfall.’
Seated in the defendant’s box, I smiled quietly.
I didn’t need the gallery’s condemnation—the murderous glare from across the room was quite sufficient.
‘The current Count Cage… Scott’s older brother, wasn’t it?’
He’d sent proxies before, maintaining decorum, but at last he’d come in person.
The fierce intensity in his eyes made it clear he intended to see this through to the bitter end.
Likely he believed that despite the weight of evidence, I would escape punishment for my brother’s murder simply by virtue of being an Ambrose daughter.
He harbored many concerns indeed.
‘Come to think of it, the Judge appears to be in Olivia’s pocket just like the Security Chief.’
Not that I minded—I had much to work with.
It was then the Judge opened his mouth.
“Then let us commence the trial…”
“Let’s end this now.”
No point in wasting more time.
At my unexpected interjection, Adam inclined his head slightly.
And when he gestured, two figures emerged into the center of the courtroom.
One was Orka, and beside him, in his grasp—
“Scott…!”
Count Cage cried out as though the world were ending.
Yes. Scott.
His older brother, Count Cage, recognized him at once—there could be no doubt.
The courtroom erupted into confused murmurs.
I smiled and spoke.
“I present Scott Cage as a witness.”
And Scott, dragged forward without resistance, immediately cried out.
“Oh, Olivia Olson! Olivia Olson tried to have me killed…!”
“What!”
Olivia shot to her feet.
Pandemonium.
People stared at me in bewildered confusion.
Aside from the fact that Scott was alive, they seemed to assume I’d coerced him somehow—which was absurd.
I had actually saved him.
Wasn’t that right? I sent him a warm glance.
At that, Scott nearly convulsed with emotion.
“The young lady is my savior! She rescued me! Please, continue to save me!”
It was genuine.
The skepticism deepened, but it was genuine.

* * *

The full story unfolded as follows.
‘…The rumor of discord would serve well enough as a wager, but one thing more.’
That day, I’d asked Philip for a favor along with the rumor itself.
‘I won’t need Orka for a while. Take him with you.’
‘…’
‘Train him and put him to use. You were already coveting him anyway, weren’t you?’
As your successor.
Philip didn’t deny it.
And so when I was demoted to the Medical Institute, Orka, with nothing to do, went on leave.
Or so it appeared—in truth, he was learning the craft of Information Gathering from Philip while keeping constant watch over Scott’s every movement.
My capable aide was fast becoming the future Duke Ambrose’s eyes and ears.
He’d already identified the Judge and Security Chief whom Olivia had approached beforehand.
And the true identity of the fugitive perpetrator, now presumed at large, was none other than Philip Ridley, masquerading as an ordinary spectator in the gallery.
To survive as the eyes and ears of Ambrose, one requires the services of a back-alley errand runner or two by necessity.
That Olivia’s murder contract happened to find its way to one such runner—well, let’s simply call that a romantic inevitability between us alone.
As for what kindness I showed to the kidnapped Scott, that’s a charming secret.
Oh, and the Jeweled Brooch—Tru stole it.
Right before my eyes.
‘Hm, Olivia asked me to steal the young lady’s brooch, so I should probably take something not quite as pretty… Should I take this one?’
‘No, the one next to it. How much were you paid? Give me half.’
Thus, I had more than enough ways to avoid the trap.
But I didn’t.
Because.
‘This is how Ambrose does things.’
Place everything upon the chessboard, use even oneself as a piece, and checkmate the opponent.
And because I wanted to return the insult the Judgment Committee had dealt me.
Just as Olivia had innocently placed me upon the stage, I did the same for her.
‘The emotion I felt that day was too profound. I thought I’d prepare an especially grand stage in return.’
Where there was no escape.
I smiled at Olivia’s distorted expression.
My terrible guilt and all the public attention it brought, even the suffering of this long ordeal—she would now receive it all in equal measure.
Deception answers deception.
A trap answers a trap.
I surveyed Olivia, the Security Chief, and the Judge in turn.
“Shall we trade places?”
A perfect catch.

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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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