Finn froze the moment the words left his mouth. When I said nothing, he rushed to explain.
"Narelle, don't misunderstand. Edith is the only family I have left in this manor. I think of her as my own sister. That's why I call her that."
"There is absolutely nothing between us!"
His frantic explanation only made my stomach turn.
I would never forget what I saw in the moments before I died.
Edith had wept and lied, claiming that my daughter and I had been greedy and eaten pastries laced with rat poison by mistake, and that was how we'd died.
Finn hadn't shed a single tear for us. Instead, his face had softened with tenderness as he pulled Edith into his arms, slipped the clothes from her shoulders, and held her close.
He kissed the tears from her cheeks, murmuring comfort.
"Dead is dead. Even if she hadn't died, I would've served her divorce papers in a few days anyway."
"For years now, the only people in my heart have been you and the two children. There's no room for anyone else, and I won't let anyone disturb our life in this manor."
From that moment on, everything I'd ever felt for him was gone.
Edith brought me back out once I'd changed. Finn was crouching in front of Hildegarde. "Don't you remember your father?"
Hildegarde stared at him in terror, shrinking back step by step, then ran to me and clung to my leg.
"She was only a few months old when you left. You didn't come back for five years. How would she possibly remember you?"
Hildegarde was only five, but with the grime washed from her face, she looked like a little porcelain doll.
Finn scooped her up and tried to coax her. "Be a good girl, Hilda. Say 'Daddy.' I'm your daddy."
She only found him strange. Her small lips pressed into a thin line as she studied him with wide, cautious eyes.
He hadn't raised her. After a few more attempts with no response, his patience ran out.
"Narelle, you've come and you've been seen. When are you planning to go back?"
I stared at him, stunned. Then I laughed.
"You mean you want me to take our daughter back to that miserable hovel and keep waiting, day after day, for you to come get us?"
Finn's brow furrowed, a shadow of irritation crossing his face.
"I told you, when the time is right I'll bring you both home. The time isn't right yet."
"I know this manor looks grand, but there are a lot of people living here. There really isn't a spare room for you and Hilda. Once the side residence is renovated, I'll send for you..."
I cut him off, my voice flat and cold. "Give it up."
"My daughter and I have stripped nearly every wild plant off that hillside. Then the floods came, and even the refugees can't find food. We were on the verge of starving to death. I wouldn't take her back to that place if you made me a servant in this house."
It was laughable, really. The manor had dozens of courtyards, crawling with maids and servants.
And Finn claimed he couldn't spare a single room for his own wife and daughter. Did he truly think I was that stupid?
In my last life, I never told him, not even on my deathbed, that my father was the Duke of Northwall.
I had believed that standing by love meant something. That my devotion proved my worth.
In the end, I was nothing but a joke to them.
Five years rotting in that hovel, and none of it had mattered at all.
Finn's face went white. "What are you talking about? You were digging wild plants to eat? I had a hundred silver taels sent to you every month!"
I stared at him. "When did you ever send money?"
"In five years, all I received were your letters every few days. Not a single coin."
Finn whipped around, his eyes locking on Edith.
