However, what came out of Lucrezia’s mouth was not a name, but saliva.

“Ew, spit!”

White frothy phlegm bubbled up, splashed onto Ariadne’s face, and fell to the floor. Ariadne impassively raised the back of her hand to wipe off the hot liquid that had smeared on her face.

“What mother sells her child! I won’t do it! I can’t!”

Ariadne seized Lucrezia, who had fallen to the floor, by the hair and shook her mercilessly. Lucrezia screamed in pain as though her hair were being ripped out.

“You might as well pass on this boiling motherly love to your son.”

She raised her cold green eyes and looked at Lucrezia.

“But don’t think I won’t find out. I’ll follow you to hell if I have to, and expose the filthy blood of Hippolytus. Don’t think your son will thank you for it.”

Ariadne said coldly.

“Do you know what the first thing I’ll do when I leave here is? I’m going to go to Hippolytus and tell him. Your mother.”

Ariadne paused for a moment before continuing.

“Admitted that Hippolytus’ father was different from the rest and died.”

Fear filled Lucrezia’s purple eyes.

“Hippolytus will hate you forever.”

Lucrezia began to retch.

“Please, please. Leave my son alone. Hippolytus is a good boy. He’s never done anything to you, has he?”

She crawled on her knees and clung to the hem of Ariadne’s skirt.

“Don’t you also hate being handed over to a relative you know nothing about from the De Mare family? It’s dreadful when there’s no man in the house. There has to be a man in the house. You need it too.”

Lucrezia, clinging to Ariadne’s satin skirt, sobbed.

“Leave my Hippolytus, my Hippolytus alone.”

In her imagination, Hippolytus was not a young man in his early twenties with ashcolored hair.

He was both a threeyearold baby and a solid figure in his thirties. He was the embodiment of all her dreams and hopes, like a husband, a son, and a lover.

“Hippolytus didn’t betray me. Our son just couldn’t help himself. It’s my fault for getting caught, why did I get found out for killing a person!”

Lucrezia begged Ariadne.

“What do I have to do for you to leave our son alone?”

“……”

“Please, say anything. I’ll tell you anything. The hidden room in the mansion? The emergency money stashed outside? I’ll give you anything.”

“……I know as well as you do that you have nothing left.”

Lucrezia looked at Ariadne and laughed loudly.

“How very clever our bastard daughter is! You know everything!”

She walked to the wooden table and picked up an opaque glass bottle that was on a silver tray. The purple liquid inside was something Lucrezia often used to kill people.

“Then I’ll give you this. You hate me, don’t you? You hate me so much you want to kill me?”

Lucrezia uncorked the glass bottle and gulped down the contents.

“I’ll give you my life.”

The purple liquid trickled down the corner of her mouth.

Gag!

It was terribly bitter. It felt like her stomach was melting.

Looking at Ariadne, Lucrezia made her last plea.

“I’ll give you my life, so save my son. Please, don’t touch my beloved Hippolytus, let him live as the son of the Cardinal De Mare.”

Lucrezia deeply regretted that she had told Hippolytus who his father was too soon.

Even if the Cardinal De Mare found out about Hippolytus’s birth, she could have asked his real father for help. Now, in this dire situation, the only person who could deliver her last words to her son was that detestable bastard girl.

“Tell Hippolytus. To bring my favorite flowers to my grave. Your roots are there.”

Would Hippolytus understand? Would he not understand, and that terrifying girl would absorb everything like a sponge?

Proving that Lucrezia’s fear had grounds, Ariadne’s green eyes sparkled brilliantly as they looked at Lucrezia.

Gag!

Her consciousness was gradually fading.

At the end of her life, there was only one thing Lucrezia could do.

“Please.”

She begged, looking up at her despised illegitimate daughter.

“I’m sorry. I felt sick every time I saw you. Simon was a good man. If only you weren’t there… my married life was perfect… I was loved…”

Lucrezia’s voice faded. She dropped her head without finishing her sentence.

Ariadne stood alone in the northern basement, looking down at Lucrezia. She nudged the collapsed, hunched Lucrezia with her toe.

Thump.

She was still warm, and her limbs still flexible. But when Ariadne put her hand under Lucrezia’s nose, there was no breath.

‘She’s dead.’

Lucrezia died protecting Epolito till the end. But Epolito wasn’t worth it. Ariadne, feeling down, picked up a glass bottle lying on the floor and harshly threw it down.

Crash!

The thick opaque glass shattered into pieces, making a clear breaking sound and a dull explosion sound simultaneously.

‘Why!’

Why did Lucrezia die stupidly protecting her useless son? Why did our mother pass away early? Why is there no one left who loves me unconditionally?

Why! Why did Epolito, who doesn’t deserve to be loved, receive such maternal love, and why did Arabella have to die alone on the bed?

It was unfair. Extremely unfair!