Before she could react, Agatha buried herself in Soren’s arms, sobbing. “Soren, you burned Aunt Isabel’s piano for me yesterday. I felt so bad, so I came to apologize to her… I didn’t expect Miss Carrington to scold me the moment she saw me. I just said a few words back, and she hit me! Soren, did I do something wrong… why does Miss Carrington hate me so much?”
Soren’s eyes burned red with heartache, but when they turned to Linnea, they held no warmth. He strode over and said coldly, “Apologize to Agatha!”
Linnea pushed herself up. “Why don’t you ask your Agatha what she did! Soren, she tried to hurt my mother—”
The slap came before she could finish. “I said, apologize to Agatha!” The strength of his years of training split her lip, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.
People had begun to gather, pointing and whispering. “What’s wrong with this woman? She hit someone and refuses to apologize?” “Isn’t that Sir Soren? The woman beside him must be Linnea, the wife he’s secretly doted on for years.” “She’s so arrogant! Doesn’t she know Sir Soren dotes on Miss Agatha? And she still dares to seduce him? Serves her right!”
Ironically, she was Linnea — Soren’s legitimate wife. She forced a bitter smile, holding back her tears. “I! Won’t! Apologize!”
Maybe it was the thought of death that gave her courage, but the regret hit instantly when he said, “Okay, since you won’t apologize, I think Aunt Isabel will be happy to pay the price for her daughter’s misdeeds, right?” He made a call, his voice cold. “Notify the mental hospital that Isabel’s special medication will be discontinued from today.”
“No!” Linnea trembled, grabbing his hand. “I’ll apologize to Agatha. Please don’t stop my mother’s medication. Don’t—”
“Kneel down,” he cut her off, lips curling in cruelty. “You have one chance. If you don’t kneel now…”
She no longer dared to hesitate. She knelt before Agatha, bowing repeatedly. “Miss Agatha, I was wrong. Miss Agatha, I was wrong!” Her voice grew louder with each repetition until it tore at her throat, blood seeping from her scalp where it met the floor.
Only then did Agatha feign magnanimity, helping her up. “Soren, I want to go shopping. Let’s go.”
Soren bent down, picked her up, and said gently, “As you wish, little ancestor.”
Those three words pierced Linnea’s heart like a blade; once, they had belonged only to her.