Free Web NovelChapter 385: Chapter-385
"Well... dragging up ancient dirt on a Marchioness within the capital might be slightly difficult, but it’s not like I can’t do it. As long as there is even a microscopic paper trail or a living witness left in this kingdom, I will find it for you."
Heena nodded, but internally, her mind flagged a major loophole in his reassurance.
’As long as there is a record.’
That was the exact problem. If the Marchioness or the Marquis had completely, flawlessly wiped the physical evidence of her past from the imperial archives, Samuel’s mortal network wouldn’t be able to pull it up. It looked like if the truth was entirely buried in shadows, Heena would have to take matters into her own hands and psychologically pry the secrets out of her mother herself. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
Heena took one look at the heavy silver clock ticking on the mantelpiece and decided that, despite the impending doom of a thirteenth-loop regressor, she desperately needed to sleep.
Samuel, naturally, had entirely different plans. True to his thoroughly shameless nature, he blinked his large, dark eyes, let out a soft, pathetic little cooed sigh, and began to smoothly crawl over toward the middle of her bed, looking up at her with a hopeful, dazzling smile.
Heena stared at him, her expression flatter than a wooden plank. Without saying a single word, she walked over to the connecting door, unlocked it, and with one swift, unceremonious, and vicious kick, sent her high-scholar husband flying straight out of her chamber. She took a quick, hyper-alert glance around the immediate corridor to ensure no estate spies were lingering, but the coast was clear. Satisfied, she looked down at Samuel, who was currently sitting on the floor of the anteroom, throwing her the most tragic, weeping puppy-dog eyes he could muster.
It didn’t move her in the slightest. Heena slammed the heavy oak door right in his handsome face and clicked the lock into place.
Turning back to the empty room, she practically flopped onto the mattress. She slightly rubbed her backside against the silk sheets—and *lord*, it was incredibly soft. The Marquis estate might be a pit of vipers, but their textiles were undeniably top-tier. Pulling the heavy velvet duvet completely over her face to block out the lingering candlelight, she finally let her conscious mind slip away.
But peace in a transmigration world was always a fleeting joke.
*Snap.*
Heena’s eyes flew open in the pitch darkness. She glared at the ceiling, a violent, murderous surge of irritation bubbling in her chest. Her internal, hyper-trained biological clock was an absolute curse. She had managed to close her eyes at two in the morning, and yet, precisely at four, her body had forced her awake. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the blanket tighter and aggressively forced herself back into a light slumber, managing to drag it out until five.
When she finally stood up at five-fifteen, she immediately regretted every life choice that had led her here. Her head was pounding like a blacksmith’s anvil. Why on earth had she forced herself to go back to sleep? Waking up twice within two hours was an absolute, unmitigated nightmare.
Before she could even rub the sleep from her eyes, a soft, synchronized knock echoed at her main door. A group of five highly trained estate maids moved into her room with terrifying, quiet efficiency, ready to begin the grueling process of preparing a Marquis’s daughter for the day.
Heena had never tolerated people touching her body—a strict survival habit from her past lives where a stray hand usually carried a poisoned needle. With a sharp, commanding raising of her palm, she coldly rejected their assistance in dressing. The maids, terrified by the resurrected heiress’s chilling aura, immediately bowed and backed away, focusing instead on filling the massive wooden bathtub with steaming, fragrant water.
Once they retreated, Heena stripped off her inner garments and sank into the tub. She dunked her head entirely, aggressively washing her hair for the second time in twelve hours. The capital’s morning humidity was already making her feel slightly hot, but more than that, as she ran her fingers through the dark strands, she noticed her hair had grown quite a bit. It was becoming a heavy, irritating mass that she fully intended to make Samuel brush out later as punishment for existing.
An hour later, Heena stood before the massive, polished brass mirror in her dressing chamber.
The reflection staring back at her was nothing short of breathtaking. The delicate, fragile features of the original host, Seera, had been completely overwritten by Heena’s sharp, untouchable soul. Dressed in a heavily structured, dark velvet gown that nipped tightly at her waist, she looked like a flawless, textbook noble lady—but with a terrifying edge. There was a mesmerizing, almost dangerous seductress-like allure radiating from her, beautifully cloaked in a layer of pure, aristocratic innocence, yet underscored by an absolute, terrifying boss-like authority. It was a bizarre contradiction that could make a man fall to his knees and beg for his life at the exact same time.
As she adjusted the heavy emerald jewels at her throat and prepared to stand up, a deliberate, rhythmic knock echoed against the wood of her door.
Heena turned her head slightly, her gaze sharp. "Who is it?"
"My child, it’s me," a soft, weathered voice drifted through the panel.
Heena’s rigid posture instantly softened, shifting seamlessly back into her perfectly crafted character. "Grandma?" She stood up quickly, smoothing down her skirts as the heavy doors swung open.
The old matriarch stepped into the room, looking exceptionally regal. Today, she was wrapped in a stunning, heavy bright-blue silk gown laced with silver embroidery, a polished wooden walking stick firmly gripped in her hand. A loyal, elderly head nanny stood rigidly beside her, supporting her other elbow.
Seeing the frail woman standing there, a genuine, warm smile graced Heena’s lips. She completely bypassed the nanny, stepping forward to gently take her grandmother’s arm and support her weight herself.
"Grandma, why did you come all the way here?" Heena chided softly, her voice filled with sweet, filial concern. "It is so incredibly early in the morning. After everything that happened yesterday, you must be exhausted. How can you be walking around like this?"
The old lady stopped, leaning slightly into Heena’s firm, steady hold. She raised her free, wrinkled hand, her fingers gently, lovingly tracing the line of Heena’s jawline. Her elderly eyes, usually so terrifyingly sharp when dealing with the Marquis, softened into pools of profound, unfiltered devotion.
"What silly nonsense are you talking about, you foolish child?" the grandmother whispered, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "My precious granddaughter has finally come back to me after years in the dark. If it were entirely up to me, if these old bones would allow it, I would spend every single second of my remaining days right by your side."
Heena felt that familiar, heavy pang of discomfort in her chest—the sheer weight of a love meant for a dead girl—but she masked it flawlessly, her smile turning entirely lovely and teasing. "Well, if that’s the case... then who is stopping you from doing exactly that, Grandma?"
