My Mistress Became My Wife (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 25

“Could it be… do you know my name?”

Lily asked first, wanting to find out how much the man already knew. Harold paused, looking into her green eyes clouded with worry and anxiety, before finally answering.

“No. I don’t.”

“I knew it.”

Lily’s expression grew even darker as she nodded, as though she’d expected exactly that. Maybe she should have claimed he did know—after all, she’d never introduced herself, so pretending ignorance had seemed the right choice. Apparently, it had been the wrong one. It was too late to take it back now, so Harold swallowed his regret.

Meanwhile, Lily took a deep breath to calm her churning stomach. She’d resolved to properly introduce herself, yet when the moment came, the words wouldn’t leave her lips. She could already see the disappointment in his eyes once he learned who she really was.

Being a married woman was problematic enough, but the bigger issue was that she was Viscountess Benjamin.

The title “Viscountess Benjamin” was always accompanied by descriptors like “a wife worse than a mistress” or “the wife of a kept man.” Lily had hoped the man didn’t know that.

Had she made a mistake by introducing herself after all?

Regret washed over her like an incoming tide, but even if she could turn back time, she knew she’d make the same choice. It was something she absolutely had to do—for his sake and for her own.

So she’d do it. Steeling herself anew, Lily clasped her trembling hands tightly together and spoke.

“My name… is Liliana Benjamin.”

Ordinarily, just hearing that much was enough for people to realize she was the infamous Viscountess Benjamin and react with shock. Their previously warm greetings vanished instantly, replaced by frantic excuses as they hurried to flee.

Each time Lily saw that reaction, it felt as though a sharp blade was slicing through her heart. The pain intensified in proportion to how close she’d thought they were—the more she’d cared for them, the deeper the wound.

Now she wondered just how much it would hurt this time. She was curious, yet anxious and afraid—she didn’t want to be hurt again. Her heart was already so battered and torn that she couldn’t bear another wound.

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