I was an ordinary body collector from Millhaven Village. By chance, I pulled both the Crown Prince and the young lord Homer Rowe from the river, and I became pregnant with the Crown Prince's child.
On our wedding day, the Crown Prince never showed. He took his bridal procession to the Prime Minister's estate and married Chloe Fox instead.
I tried to confront him, but Homer Rowe stepped in my way.
He confessed that he was the one who'd gotten me pregnant that night. He said he was willing to marry me and take care of me for the rest of my life.
A month after the wedding, bandits descended on my village. All one hundred and ten households were slaughtered. Not a single soul survived.
Standing before that mountain of corpses, I collapsed under the weight of my grief. I lost the baby.
Homer never left my side, never even changed out of his bloodstained clothes. It took a long time, but slowly, he pulled me back from the edge.
Three years later, I was pregnant again. I wanted to tell Homer the good news right away, but on my way to find him, I overheard a conversation between him and a friend.
"Homer, the Crown Prince keeps undermining you at every turn. Doesn't that eat at you? Back then, you married Penelope Maxwell for his sake and even claimed a child that wasn't yours."
"I didn't do it for him. I did it for Chloe. In this kingdom, the firstborn son inherits regardless of his mother's rank. If Penelope had given birth to a prince first, how would Chloe ever secure her place in the palace?"
"We all know you're hopelessly in love with Chloe Fox, but did you really have to massacre all of Millhaven Village to keep them quiet? The body collectors have been all but wiped out since then."
"I had no choice. The people in Millhaven Village knew too much. To eliminate any future threat, every last one of them had to die."
I had always believed that falling for the Crown Prince was the greatest mistake of my life. I never imagined that falling for Homer Rowe would prove a far worse one.
……
"Just now, one of the maids from the estate came by. Your attendant turned her away, but I think I heard her say Penelope is pregnant..."
Homer's hand tightened around his teacup. It nearly slipped from his grip, but he was always composed. Within a breath, his expression smoothed over.
"I won't let her carry it to term."
"That's your own flesh and blood."
"Her womb carried another man's seed once. I find that repulsive. Besides, she spent her whole life handling corpses. Any child she bears could come out a freak."
Homer turned to the attendant standing nearby. "Tell Nora Whitfield to mix the abortifacient into the lady's meals. Be careful about it. Don't let her find out."
His friend let out a sigh. "Penelope really is pitiful..."
Homer went still for a moment. His gaze turned dark and unreadable as he stared into his teacup. "I'll let her live out her days as my lady, comfortable and provided for. Consider it compensation."
I clamped a hand over my mouth and crumpled to the ground. Under the bewildered stares of the servants around me, I scrambled back to the estate on my hands and knees.
In the darkness of my room, I wept alone.
So the man who had shared my bed that night was never Homer at all. And yet he had still married me, this tainted woman, willingly, all for Chloe Fox.
He had even accepted a child that had nothing to do with him.
I remembered the day the bandits slaughtered my village. He had looked at my skirt, soaked through with blood, and wept until he could barely breathe.
He had sworn to me, voice shaking with conviction: "Penelope, I promise you, I won't let the villagers die in vain. And I won't let our child's sacrifice be for nothing."
He kept his word. Within three days, he tracked down the bandits' hideout and killed every last one of them.
For years, I had been overwhelmed with gratitude toward him. It never once crossed my mind that all of it, every single piece, had been his doing from the start.
Nora's voice came from outside the door. "My lady, your meal is ready."
"Leave it. I'm not hungry."
The food laced with abortifacient. I didn't dare touch it.
When the physician had last checked my pulse, he told me my body was weak, my womb cold and depleted. I needed to rest and take care of myself. If I miscarried again, I would never be able to bear children.
I wanted this child desperately. Before, it had been for Homer.
Now it was for the villagers who had died because of me.
I couldn't bring them back. Other than ensuring the body collector's legacy carried on, I didn't know what else I could do to make amends.
