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.
Edith's eyes reddened on cue. "Dear sister-in-law, you don't actually think I'm the one who withheld your allowance, do you?"
"I'll send someone to investigate at once. Whichever wretched servant intercepted that money and pocketed it will answer for it."
She hurried off with her maid in tow. Half an hour later, she returned and had a scrawny young maid dragged before me, bound and trembling.