Chapter 11. I’ll Protect You

“Shall I prepare a café au lait for you, my lady?”

Gabriella, who had spent two sleepless nights dealing with her brother’s unintended scandal, waved her hand dismissively at the maid.

“No, I don’t want anything. Besides, drinking café au lait every day last week seems to have added inches to my waistline.”

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Nora, the former nanny of Gabriella, clicked her tongue in response.

“My lady, honestly. If you ask me, you could stand to gain another ten pounds. You’re much too thin.”

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Gabriella’s almond-colored eyes widened in disbelief.

“Good heavens! Never say something so dreadful again, Nora. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cinch myself into this corset as it is?”

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But at the moment, Gabriella’s figure was the least of her concerns.

Unable to hide her unease, she fidgeted over Mikhail’s whereabouts, as there had been no news of him even as the afternoon waned.

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“What on earth is going on? Why is everything so quiet?”

Nora slowly rose from the velvet armchair, smoothing her dress as she responded.

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“I believe it’s about to get noisy, my lady.”

Hardly had she finished speaking when Mikhail strode in, his sudden entrance prompting Gabriella to rise from her seat, tension etched across her face as she looked at her twin brother.

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“What happened?”

The very man who had left the two women on edge, however, acted as if nothing was amiss. He turned to the maid and ordered a drink.

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“Prepare some hot chocolate. Lots of vanilla.”

Gabriella’s crescent-shaped brows shot up.

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“How can you think about drinking chocolate in this situation?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You should join me. You look like you’ve been skipping meals again, and it’s made you even more irritable.”

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As soon as the maid placed the silver jug of hot chocolate and the fine bone china cup on the table and left, Gabriella pressed him.

“What is it? What’s going on? And why are you suddenly so relaxed?”

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Completely ignoring her anxious tone, Mikhail leisurely lifted his cup and sipped the cocoa with elegance before sweetly murmuring:

“I’ve found a stand-in.”

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Gabriella—and even Nora, who had been exchanging worried glances with her—both gasped aloud.

Nora hastily checked the door to ensure it was securely shut, while Gabriella, too stunned to speak, could only blink in disbelief.

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“A… stand-in? Do you think we’re preparing for an opera performance or something?”

Mikhail’s flawless lips curved into a smirk.

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“An apt metaphor, don’t you think, Gabi?”

Hearing her nickname whispered in such a teasing tone, Gabriella, now completely losing her composure, pressed her throbbing temple and retorted icily.

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“Don’t joke about this, Mikhail. This involves the royal family—not some petty upstart nobles.”

As he savored his sweet chocolate, Mikhail’s golden eyes turned to her, glinting with subtle amusement.

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“My, my. You worry too much, Gabriella. Surely you don’t think I’d be unaware of the stakes here.”

“Your Grace, it’s only natural for the young lady to be concerned. After all, this is a matter decreed by His Majesty himself,” Nora interjected, siding with Gabriella.

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“Enough. Just make sure to memorize the details about the stand-in, Gabriella. I’ll send the precise information through Louis.”

“Mikhail!”

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“I told you not to worry.”

Bonchons’ angel, now on the verge of tears, stared at her unyielding brother with a trembling gaze, only to receive his brazen grin in return.

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“I promise you’ll like them, Gabi. Look forward to it.”

* * *

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“What do you mean, sister? You’re going to become the Duke’s younger brother?!”

Melanie pressed her hands against her chest, as if trying to calm her wildly pounding heart that seemed ready to burst out.

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Emma, shedding her Oliver persona for a moment, replied with empty eyes.

“…Exactly what it sounds like.”

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Emma’s brief and blunt explanation made Melanie’s lips tremble, and she began to tear up.

“P-Please, explain properly. Please?”

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Emma rubbed her face with her hands and answered.

“There’s nothing else to explain. The contract is already finalized.”
“Contract? What kind of contract?”

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A tear slipped down Melanie’s freckled cheek as if it had fallen from nowhere.

“This… this is because of me again, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

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“It’s not.”

“Don’t say it’s not! It’s because you’re afraid I’d be sold off to a brothel, isn’t it? That’s why you’re doing this!”

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Melanie’s face twisted as she gasped for air, trying to hold back her sobs.

“I thought something was strange. The idea that someone as grand as the Ophilenz family would hire me as a maid—it didn’t make sense!”

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Emma, unable to take Melanie’s rising panic, pulled her into an embrace and closed her cobalt-blue eyes tightly as she whispered.

“Please, Melanie. This was the best choice. So don’t cry. Please.”

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But Emma’s plea to stop crying was useless.

Even at her young age, Melanie had eaten enough of life’s bitter crumbs to understand all too well.

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She knew how worthless the lives of the poor—those without titles or even parents—were in the eyes of the nobility.

She knew that merely meeting their gaze could seal your fate, with life or death hanging on their whims.

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And now, in this wretched situation, the idea of a contract…

A contract where a woman would pose as a man.

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Something so utterly absurd and dangerous.

“Let’s go beg the Duke right now. Please, sister. I don’t care if I don’t become a maid. But I can’t live without you… I really can’t…”

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Tears streaming down her face, Melanie clung to Emma’s shoulders, shaking with sobs.

“Sister, please… If you’re discovered, even by chance…”

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“I know. I’ll be killed.”

Emma’s cobalt-blue eyes seemed to deepen, like paint diffusing into water.

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She couldn’t forget the day she had been told she would have a new family.

“Emma, this is your stepmother and your new little sister.”

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Rosaline, cradling a newborn baby, had stepped into her and her father’s lonely house.

Emma still remembered the warmth that had filled the room that day, as if a light had entered their cold, barren home.

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Rosaline had taken Emma’s unruly, uncombed hair and washed it carefully, then braided it to match her own.

She had always filled Emma’s plate with warm soup, never letting her feel hungry.

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“Emma, from now on, I’m your mother. I didn’t give birth to you, but I’ll do my best.”

For ten years, Rosaline had indeed done her best. Emma felt it deeply, even now.

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When their father caught the fever, Rosaline nursed him tirelessly and fell ill herself. Even with a pale face, she baked bread for days on end so the children wouldn’t go hungry.

She milked goats to make cheese, bottled jars upon jars of blueberry jam, and washed and folded winter clothes to prepare for the cold.

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Even after burying her husband and conducting his funeral, Rosaline ensured everything was ready for the children before she spoke her final words to Emma.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I couldn’t be a better mother to you.”

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“Please, don’t die! Don’t leave us, Mother…”

“Take care of Melanie. Please, protect her.”

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Rosaline’s last words, spoken with cracked lips before she departed without even closing her eyes, remained etched in Emma’s memory.

Lost in thought, Emma was brought back to reality by Melanie’s trembling voice.

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“Sister, are you a fool? Or do you have more than one life? How… how could you? For what? For me?!”

Gripping Melanie’s shaking hands tightly, Emma replied.

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“Don’t say that, Melanie. You know it’s just the two of us in this world. And you know as well as I do, if you’re not here, neither am I.”
“But, sister—”
“No matter what, I’ll survive. And so will you. So keep your wits about you.”

Melanie shook her head.

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“I can’t. I’ll make a mistake. I just know I will.”

“Melanie.”

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“Why? Why, sister? Why would you do this for me?”

As Melanie continued to sob in guilt and frustration, Emma gripped her hands even tighter and said firmly:

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“Because you’re my little sister. And I’m your big sister.”

“Sister…”

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Emma, her cobalt-blue eyes dry of tears, closed them slowly and held Melanie close.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

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