Interest Compounds on Revenge (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2

The man said only those words to her. He immediately left the room.

Lea’s mind was hazy. Yet she sprang up from her seat and ran toward the dressing table. The reality she faced was utterly shocking.

‘Is that woman me?’

The woman in the mirror, with a bewildered expression, was Grace—the very Grace from her dream.

She had gleaming golden hair, a petite frame, and exquisite features that made her a true beauty.

Lea tried to recall what she herself had looked like.

She had been taller than Grace and had chocolate-colored hair.

Of course, she had always carried a stubborn, strong-willed aura rather than the delicate fragility Grace exuded.

‘Ha! So it wasn’t a dream after all.’

Lea sank limply to the floor right where she stood. Seeing this, Pauline rushed over instantly.

“You need to rest more. Please lie back down on the bed.”

Pauline helped Lea onto the bed. But Lea sat up again, staring blankly at Pauline as if her soul had fled.

There were so many things she wanted to ask. Her mind was tangled, unsure where or how to begin.

“Paul…line, please help me.”

“Huh? Help you? I’m your lady’s maid.”

Asking for help from someone whose livelihood depended on serving her seemed odd. Pauline found Grace’s unusual request strange—she never spoke this way.

“My… memory is really fuzzy. Ever since I woke up from the fever, my head’s all jumbled.”

“Of course it is. You suffered terribly from the high fever.”

“My name is Grace…?”

“You are Lady Grace Bizac, daughter of Baron Bizac.”

“But this is a duke’s residence…?”

She wanted to know precisely which ducal house this was.

Pauline answered Grace’s general questions in a gentle, patient tone.

Grace was from the Rubec Empire and had an older brother. She was twenty years old, and her brother was twenty-five.

Her brother and Duke Terren Courtois were close friends who had fought together on the battlefield.

Most importantly, Pauline added, Grace and Duke Terren Courtois were betrothed.

“I… see. Thanks to you, Pauline, my memories are slowly coming back. But what’s today’s date?”

“Today is April 28th.”

Lea was utterly stunned. Her wedding day with Allen had been April 21st.

That meant a whole week had already passed. At this point, Lea needed to confirm the most crucial fact.

“Pauline, could you get me a newspaper?”

“A newspaper? My lady, you never read newspapers. You don’t even usually read books.”

Pauline nearly burst out laughing.

Whenever Grace woke up, the first thing she looked for was a mirror.

Her day always began by worrying over her makeup, what dress to wear, and which perfume would make her look best in Terren’s eyes.

“Did… I really? Well, surely there’s a daily paper somewhere in the duke’s residence?”

“Only the duke usually reads newspapers. He’s probably reading one right now in his study.”

Lea leapt out of bed and dashed toward the door. Pauline, startled, hurried after her.

With tousled hair, wearing only a nightgown and barefoot—where on earth did she think she was going?

“Pauline, where’s the study?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s on the left corridor of the first floor, next to the library.”

Lea thundered down the stairs and frantically searched for the place Pauline had described.

Servants who saw Grace along the way recoiled as if they’d seen a ghost—she’d claimed to be ill, yet now seemed utterly changed.

Grace, who had always appeared as fresh and delicate as a newly bloomed freesia, now looked utterly disheveled.

Lea, oblivious to the servants’ stares, quickly reached the study door and paused briefly.

She took a breath—knocking first would be proper etiquette.

After all, even in urgency, one must observe basic manners.

Tap tap. She knocked and waited for a response from inside.

“Come in.”

At the sound, she flung the door open. Inside stood Duke Courtois, along with two men who, judging by their attire, appeared to be his secretary and butler.

All three men stared at Lea with identical expressions of shock.

“Grace, what’s the matter?”

Terren was so astonished he wondered if the woman before him was truly Grace Bizac.

The woman who would never appear before him unless perfectly groomed now stood before him in complete disarray.

“Duke Courtois, I know this is terribly rude, but I must read the newspaper. Um… I need the past week’s daily papers.”

The butler doubted his own ears. ‘Duke Courtois’?

Grace had never once addressed the duke that way.

Unlike Terren, who was too stunned to speak, the secretary and butler cleared their throats awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable.

After all, Grace stood before them in nothing but a thin nightgown—her shoulders and half her chest plainly visible, having apparently forgotten proper undergarments.

Even worse, she was barefoot. She looked less like a refined noble lady and more like a madwoman.

“James, bring her the papers.”

Terren instructed the butler in a dry tone.

At first surprised, he now seemed to assume this was just another tactic Grace had devised to gain his attention.

Butler James handed her the newspaper.

“Thank you, James.”

“Huh?”

James looked as if he’d heard something impossible. Had Grace ever expressed gratitude before?

Lea took the newspaper and headed straight back to her room on the second floor. Pauline trailed behind like a shadow, but Lea needed to be alone while reading.

“Pauline, could you step out for a moment?”

[This is the timeline separator]

Lea unfolded the newspaper with trembling hands, sorting through it by date.

Even though this was the Rubec Empire, neighboring Galdensia’s major incidents would surely be covered in the news.

That was true of newspapers anywhere. Yet as she prepared to read the article, fear gripped her.

Somehow, she felt the very disaster she dreaded was already unfolding.

She had fallen to her death from a thousand-foot cliff, and her father’s trading company was utterly ruined—the worst possible outcome… Yet a sliver of hope remained.

“It’s okay! Allen is still there.”

Lea steadied her breathing and opened the newspaper.

The Hamilton Trading Company scandal was so significant it filled the entire front page.

Lea held her breath and read quickly.

“Good heavens! How could this happen?”

Lea trembled violently, like an aspen leaf in shock.

She tried desperately to stay calm, but the next article was so cruel she could barely bear to read it with her eyes open.

The newspaper included an illustration of the trial—Allen giving testimony and presenting a pipe as evidence.

“Why would Allen…?”

Lea collapsed onto the floor, recalling Allen. They had been close since childhood and naturally grown into lovers.

That was why they’d gotten married. But what if this had all been a scheme meticulously planned for years?

“So that’s why the carriage…!”

Only now did Lea finally piece together the broken puzzle.

At times like this, her quick mind and clear-eyed realism felt like a curse—she reached her conclusion far too swiftly.

‘Allen MacDowell was worse than a beast.’

Beneath his handsome looks, gentle smile, and innate nobility lay this horrifying scheme, which he’d used to deceive her.

“Ugh!”

Lea stifled a scream with her hand.

Overwhelmed beyond bearing, she leapt up and bolted out of the room without thinking.

“My lady!”

Ignoring Pauline’s cry, Lea rushed through the first-floor lobby and out of the mansion.

She didn’t care if the pouring spring rain soaked her through or if stones pierced her bare feet.

No—she felt nothing at all. The horrific reality that had befallen her made her feel as if she were already dying.

“Aaah!”

Lea screamed wildly somewhere in the secluded garden.

“What have I done?”

She shook her head violently and sobbed uncontrollably.

Because of her love, she had driven her beloved father to ruin. And that wasn’t all—Lea Hamilton was dead.

“It’s all your fault, Lea Hamilton! You destroyed the Hamilton Trading Company that your family had protected for generations!”

She couldn’t forgive herself. In that moment, her father’s sorrowful face on her wedding day flashed before her eyes.

[Are you happy?] [Yes, Father. In this era, few women get to marry the man they love.] [That’s true enough.]

Richard wiped the tears from his eyes and released Lea from his embrace.

[Hmm. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. My daughter’s happiness is what’s most important to me. I have no regrets, and I don’t care what others say.]

Overwhelmed by her father’s heart-wrenching love, Lea collapsed onto the ground and wailed.

[This is the timeline separator]

Terren headed toward the garden with his secretary Luke, both holding black umbrellas.

They were searching for Grace, who had suddenly run out into the garden. It had only been a day since she’d recovered from her illness—what on earth was going on?

Terren instinctively made his way through the vast garden toward the grove of arborvitae trees. Somehow, he felt Grace would be there.

“There she is.”

Luke spotted Grace first. She was half-collapsed on the ground, weeping.

“Grace, what are you doing now?”

Terren quietly approached and scolded her. Acting like this would only bring the fever back.

At his words, Grace, who had been crying pitifully, stood up resolutely and turned toward the two men.

Terren draped his cloak over Grace and held the umbrella above her.

“My lady, you’re not a child—stop throwing tantrums! What if you catch a serious illness just trying to grab the duke’s attention?”

Luke spoke sharply to Grace. Love wasn’t something one could win by acting spoiled.

Lea, hearing Luke’s words, recalled a memory that felt like a dream or an illusion.

Grace had once clung to Terren, wailing, but the man had remained indifferent the whole time. Suddenly, anger surged within her.

“This isn’t a tantrum—it’s effort.”

Lea glared at the two men as she spoke.

“It’s doing everything I can to win the person I love. If I do nothing, how will they ever know my feelings?”

“But a person’s heart isn’t something that…”

“Exactly. That’s precisely why a desperate, futile effort—made by someone unworthy of love—has led to this mess.”

Lea alternated cold stares between the two men, uttering bitter words.

She fixed her gaze directly on Terren.

{That bastard’s desperate effort succeeded. All because of this damn love.}

When Lea muttered to herself in a foreign tongue, Terren’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Grace, since when did you learn the language of Landes?”

As far as he knew, Grace spoke only the common tongue.

She hated reading—even newspapers, let alone books.

Lea replied coolly, meeting Terren’s gaze.

{Never assume you fully know someone. That’s arrogance.}

She shrugged off Terren’s cloak and walked back toward the main house, letting the rain soak her.