Chapter 242
The duke’s expression was unusually grave, so rather than asking what it was about, Iona quietly opened the envelope.
Inside, the letter contained just one single sentence:
[If you want your son back, prepare a worthy price.]
The duke, visibly agitated, fumbled through his front pocket and pulled out a cigar case.
As she watched him light the end of his cigar, Iona neatly folded the paper back in half.
She asked calmly,
“Is it a handwriting you recognize?”
“No.”
“How did this letter come into your possession?”
“It was mixed in with the regular correspondence that arrived at the ducal estate. Because of the contents, it was passed on directly to me.”
As he said this, the duke inhaled deeply, sucking in the smoke with a harsh drag.
His cheeks hollowed as his sharp jawline stood out prominently.
Though he stood right in front of Iona and Leroy, the duke’s mind was clearly elsewhere.
Glaring fiercely at the envelope in Iona’s hand, he asked with a piercing gaze,
“Could it be real?”
It was the first signal of life they’d received since his son went missing.
There was a chance it was just a cruel prank. His subordinates had insisted they shouldn’t be swayed by baseless schemes—but the duke couldn’t shake the gut feeling that this might be real.
Or perhaps, he simply wanted to believe it.
“If this threat is genuine, they’ll soon follow up with their demands,” Iona said, handing the blackmail letter back to him.
Her voice was so calm, it felt unsettling. The duke furrowed his brows.
Realizing how overly worked up he’d gotten, the duke gave a self-deprecating laugh.
“...Looks like I’m the only one losing my composure. Do you believe this letter is fake?”
“No,” Iona replied coolly. “It’s just that this outcome was within expectations. That’s why I’m not surprised.”
Since arriving in the North, Iona had discovered something she wasn’t meant to know.
The way Richard had clung to calling her ‘Noona’ must have made him suspect the duke as the source of her information.
It wasn’t unreasonable to think Richard had played one of the cards he’d kept hidden—either to divert the duke’s attention or to tie his hands.
‘I think I even have a good idea where the duke’s son might be hidden.’
It was highly likely that the hostage was being managed by the merchant guild Richard had visited previously.
Merchant guilds had plenty of storage space and were, by nature, highly mobile—perfect for discreetly hiding or transporting someone.
If they closely monitored how the guild workers moved, they’d eventually find an anomaly.
But since the duke hadn’t been privy to this information beforehand, he could only grow more suspicious of Iona’s unnervingly calm demeanor.
“This outcome was expected? Do you have any leads then?”
“Yes,” Iona answered without hesitation. “I believe His Highness the Crown Prince is the one behind your son’s disappearance.”
The duke’s eyes widened.
Iona was not the type to speak in circles.
In a composed voice, Iona continued plainly.
“And I also have a fairly good idea of where your son might be held.”
“What on earth… What are you talking about? Explain yourself clearly.”
“I was investigating several merchant guilds while tracking your son’s whereabouts. During that time, I personally witnessed His Highness the Crown Prince secretly visiting one of those guilds.”
“He could’ve had other business there.”
“I became certain of his purpose after a later encounter. I’m sure you’ve heard that His Highness the Crown Prince visited the residence of Count Nigel, where we were staying.”
The duke nodded, his expression still clouded with suspicion.
Meanwhile, Leroy, unable to interrupt the string of revelations, rubbed his lips with an uncertain look.
The duke pressed Iona, his voice growing more urgent.
“What did you two talk about that leads you to this conclusion?”
“I told His Highness that you were my blood relative.”
The duke froze in place.
Leroy deeply empathized with the duke’s turmoil, but he didn’t try to console him hastily.
Though Iona’s manner of speech was unusually direct, the content of her message was clear and precise.
The duke barely managed to stammer, “What… did you just say?”
His voice was thin and shaky, like someone being strangled.
“His Highness often called me ‘Noona.’ So I suspected that he might’ve known about my origins all along. Judging by his reaction, my hunch wasn’t wrong.”
“What… what are you trying to say? Are you claiming to be Princess Teresa’s daughter? But your date of birth clearly—”
“That was a fabricated birthday, created at the time I was registered under the Modrov family. Even I don’t know my real age.”
Iona gave a light shrug.
No matter how brilliant someone may be, no one remembers the day they were born.
She could only guess her real birth year based on the circumstances surrounding her adoption.
That’s why, in the past—when she had no information about her mother—she had never once questioned her own age.
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“Because it wasn’t something I could be certain of. Saying, ‘It’s possible,’ and saying, ‘It’s true,’ are two very different things.”
“Then now…?”
“The day I first met Your Grace and heard you speak about Princess Teresa, I felt uneasy. So I summoned the butler who had served under my father for many years. He said…”
Iona trailed off and swallowed.
Perhaps she had spoken too much.
Her throat suddenly felt dry.
As she struggled to decide how best to relay what she’d heard, Iona recalled the pale face of the old butler.
Perhaps it was because the quality of his new job had declined.
Or perhaps it was the toll of traveling such a long way so quickly.
The butler Iona hadn’t seen in years looked noticeably unwell.
Even after she made sure he had a proper meal and enough time to rest, his complexion remained pale.
Apparently, the head of the household where he’d recently found work was a rough man—and the butler seemed like a completely different person from when he had served a noble family.
Maybe he saw the large sum Iona had offered as a chance to rebuild his life. Whatever the reason, he did his best to answer every question she asked.
He even brought up old comments from Hayden that he previously thought insignificant, leaving nothing out.
-“Come to think of it, your father often confused the young lord’s birthday.
I believe the most recent time was just before his debutante ball.
I had suggested we hold a grand birthday party as your social debut—since the autumn social season was resuming and your coming-of-age had been delayed, it seemed a good way to restore the family’s prestige.
But your father snapped at me, saying your was born in August. He actually asked me if I couldn’t even tell the seasons apart.
He changed his tune not long after, of course... But things like that happened from time to time, so I assumed your real birthday probably was around then.
Everyone close to Lord Hayden knew you were actually his biological child.
He even got your age mixed up now and then, so maybe it was all just the result of his negligence…”
Princess Teresa’s child had been born in August, during the height of summer.
Iona moistened her dry lips with her tongue, then looked at the duke and continued.
“My father would sometimes mistake my birthday as being in the summer.”
She expected the duke to demand that she bring this witness forward at once.
In fact, she hadn’t sent the butler away yet precisely because she anticipated his suspicion and wanted to address it.
The evidence Iona held was compelling—but even so, her claims still had weak points.
She accepted that the duke might not believe her right away.
After all, revealing the truth to him wasn’t about earning recognition as family—it was simply a necessary step for what she planned to do next.
But what Iona saw in the duke’s eyes wasn’t suspicion or excitement. His pale face, so uncharacteristically delicate, looked deeply shaken.
The duke’s trembling lips finally moved, and he barely managed to ask:
“Did hearing all that…”
“……”
“Did it make you resent your mother?”
-- End Of The Chapter --
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