Please Kill My Husband (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16

The editor-in-chief of Bill Ford Newspapers, a cigarette dangling from his lips, had been shouting since the pre-dawn twilight.

“Don’t stop that machine—keep it running! Distribute the finished papers immediately. Hurry up!”

Last evening, news of the rift between the high society celebrities Ludmila and Kedilen, delivered to the editor-in-chief, had made his eyes gleam.

The editor’s face still burned with excitement, having seized the exact moment the enigmatic couple—previously veiled in rumors that evaporated like morning mist—finally revealed their true colors.

Newspapers rolling nonstop off the press were swiftly bundled and dispatched across the capital.

By the time dawn broke, everyone would be reading this paper—the front page boldly emblazoned with rumors of discord between Marquis Erdi and his wife, even escalating to speculation of their separation.

Just popping the lid open unleashed an overflow of stories to write.

The charm of the marquis and his wife lay precisely in how their conflict spawned an endless string of juicy material, enough to fuel gossip for a full month.

Grinning with satisfaction, the editor abruptly barked out a shout, still holding the cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“Faster! Spin it faster, you lazy bastards!”

In the dark air before dawn had fully ended, only the printing house radiated intense heat.

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“Have you heard the news?”

As always, it began in the morning—aristocratic ladies gathering idly for idle chatter.

Life in the capital spared them the daily worry of finding fresh topics for conversation, which, conversely, implied how constantly events and scandals erupted.

But this morning, the capital’s leading morning paper—Bill Ford—carried news astonishing even to those noblewomen.

[The discord of the beautiful and noble Marquise and Marquis Erdi—caused by rumors of infertility?]

The story of the Erdi marquis couple, whose mere mention stirred interest, appeared under a sensational headline.

Moreover, the article mainly consisted of speculative claims about the Marchioness’s recent infertility and the growing emotional distance between her and her husband.

“I heard the Erdi marquis couple are already separated?”

“Oh, I’ve heard that too. Everyone who’s visited the marquis’s estate recently says the marchioness simply hasn’t been seen at all.”

What began as light gossip soon spread like smoldering embers catching dry straw, swelling into absurd rumors.

Newspapers seized the moment, fleshing out these whispers into seemingly credible articles. A tiny snowball had become a massive boulder rolling downhill within two days.

Naturally, the news reached Kedilen as well.

“Damn it—!”

Kedilen crumpled the morning newspaper and hurled it to the floor.

His aide, Baron Perrington, calmly picked it up, glanced at the headline splashed across the front page, and swallowed a quiet sigh.

Yesterday, and today.

Ever since the marchioness vanished overnight, newspapers and reports had flooded the capital.

People tossed out wild theories about the famed couple’s discord.

Among these rumors—infidelity and illegitimate children were practically obligatory, alongside frequent, provocative mentions of domestic violence.

All this stemmed from an inflated report that the marchioness had collapsed and been hospitalized for medical examination.

“Why the hell are these articles still coming out? I clearly ordered you to suppress any speculative reporting!”

“I’m sorry. We’ve repeatedly pressured them, but most of the newspaper’s financial backers come from old aristocratic families, so…”

Though he trailed off, Kedilen needed no further explanation. He cursed aloud and stomped his foot.

Since Ludmila’s disappearance, the House of Erdi had been spiraling out of control.

One might think losing a mere lady of the house shouldn’t matter much, but it was Ludmila who had brought renown to the marquis couple.

Her standing in high society and the admiration she drew from noblewomen—

Because Ludmila, the very object of their envy, was his wife, Kedilen had shone by her side.

“Ludmila… still haven’t found her?”

“I’m sorry. We’ve deployed search parties, but so far…”

“Incompetent fools.”

Kedilen sneered at Perrington, though the baron himself could do little.

He’d ordered the most discreet search possible to avoid revealing Ludmila’s disappearance.

Yet with rumors already spreading wildly in every direction, they were conducting searches with minimal personnel.

‘This is a disaster.’

Perrington instinctively sensed that Ludmila might never return.

This wasn’t a simple abduction or kidnapping. It was a calculated move—evidence deliberately scattered.

Such patterns weren’t typical of someone abducted; they clearly pointed to someone who’d chosen to flee openly.

In short, Ludmila had left Kedilen.

Shaken by this stark realization, Kedilen paced the room in circles, biting his lip, then finally smoothed his furrowed brow and looked at Perrington.

“We need to release a statement. No—better yet, hold a press conference.”

“What kind of…”

Surely he wasn’t planning to publicly announce Ludmila’s disappearance? Perrington had expected Kedilen to stay silent for at least a month, so this unexpectedly swift decision caught him off guard. He asked calmly, masking his surprise.

“Say that Ludmila isn’t embroiled in any discord—she’s currently undergoing treatment and recuperating at the Erdi marquisate estate.”

“…”

“Send people to the Erdi townhouse and make it look as if Ludmila is there. Hire a decoy or bribe someone—just ensure it convincingly fools observers.”

People never change. Or rather, they don’t change because they’ve never needed to.

Not once did he inquire why Ludmila had left. Perrington was among the few who truly understood the relationship between Ludmila and Kedilen.

Naturally, upon hearing of her disappearance, he’d offered advice in earnest—but Kedilen ignored him. Likely, he’d ignore him for the rest of his life.

To Kedilen, Ludmila was merely an accessory—

A dazzling ornament to carry beside him, one that made him shine.

“Understood.”

“And secretly deploy more search teams. Ensure Ludmila is found within a month.”

“I’ll see to it immediately.”

The aide bowed his head and turned to leave the room.

From the other side of the closed door came Kedilen’s furious swearing, but Perrington remained unruffled, calmly summoning a servant.

“Strictly limit staff access to this floor. The fewer people who know the marquis’s current state, the better. Also, screen all visitors to the marquis’s residence for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And…”

Perrington started to speak but hesitated. After a brief pause, rolling his eyes slightly, he shook his head.

“Never mind. That’s all for now. You may go.”

He gave a light wave. Once the steward departed, Perrington stood alone in the corridor, staring blankly at the door.

Just how long could they keep this hidden? Only overwhelming power could force silence.

Conversely, once that power weakened, the dam they’d held back would collapse, unleashing everything they’d suppressed by force.

“We first need to figure out what the marchioness truly wants.”

If she ever chose to speak, the current rumors and newspaper stories would seem like child’s play.

Knowing that, shouldn’t he prioritize finding the marchioness—even if it meant damaging his own reputation?

Just how long could a greedy man, unwilling to relinquish anything, possibly endure?

Perrington let out a self-mocking sigh and turned to leave. From the other side of the door, Kedilen’s enraged shouts continued unabated.

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The carriage raced through a tranquil forest. Despite midwinter, the woods overflowed with lush greenery.

Noon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows of stiff branches and dense leaves that embroidered the carriage roof like a painting.

Not a well-groomed highway, but a rough forest path—

Even the luxurious carriage jolted violently, yet inside, Ludmila couldn’t tear her eyes from the unfamiliar scenery outside her window.

Aden, leaning an elbow against the seat with his chin resting on his hand, silently watched Ludmila, whose gaze remained fixed on the passing woods.

The Ludmila he’d met in the capital had been like a lifeless doll—devoid of vitality.

In public, she’d mimic humanity like a marionette in a one-act play, dangling by strings, only to revert to a hollow doll the moment the curtain fell.

Yet here she was, making such an expression just from watching trees.

“Is this your first time seeing trees?”

“Huh? Oh—no.”

Ludmila’s eyes, sparkling with vitality as if touched by sunlight, met Aden’s.

The faint mischief in the man’s tilted smile, as he looked at her, settled softly in her eyes.

In that instant, realizing what expression she’d been making, Ludmila cleared her throat and returned to her usual composure.

“You’ve been staring at trees the whole ride through the forest. Didn’t the marquis’s estate have a garden? Were there no trees there?”

“No, there were. Many crepe myrtles, meticulously pruned and cared for daily by the gardener.”

Ludmila continued, then turned once more to gaze out the window. Just then, the dense scenery on both sides parted, revealing a sweeping mountain vista in a single glance.

The wind stirred the treetops like ocean waves, so beautifully that a gentle smile touched Ludmila’s lips.

Watching her, Aden’s golden eyes rippled faintly, like disturbed water.

“Certainly, those garden trees—trimmed smooth, blooming pink flowers—were called breathtaking. Everyone praised their beauty. Yet strangely, I disliked them. Buds meant to gleam brilliantly from lofty heights, soaked in sunlight, were instead clipped and pruned to sprout low to the ground.”

“…”

“But not here. These trees rise fiercely high, as if declaring their existence—soaring boldly toward the sun, defiantly green as if mocking winter’s chill.”

Turning to face Aden, Ludmila’s face bloomed with vitality like a spring garden.

“I’ve never seen this before—neither in the abandoned imperial palace overgrown with vines, nor in any garden shaped by human hands.”

“…That’s a rather dull observation.”

Hearing this, Aden stared silently at Ludmila’s face before dismissing her words with a belated, blunt reply.

“We’ll soon pass through the Tvelvolv region, so keep your reflections moderate. Getting held up at the checkpoint would be a nuisance. Also, try to rest. Didn’t you stay tense all night without sleep?”

“I will. Thank you for the advice.”

Aden turned his gaze to the opposite window—the one Ludmila wasn’t looking at. Unfortunately, it faced only a dark, brown cliffside, blocking the view entirely.

Though barren and bleak, with nothing to see—flowers nonetheless bloomed there.

For the first time in his life, he saw them: splendid golden blossoms, radiantly in full bloom.