The crushed tomato was red.

“Because of you killing your husband, my husband lost his job!”

“So did my brother!”

“…….,”

After Bake disappeared, Crateon maintained his appearance, but that was about it.

Bake had led Crateon for a very long time, and there were things she could do that he couldn’t. The headless body couldn’t help but shake.

Especially now, Crateon, without a recognized successor and in a fight over succession with two unrecognized women, was unstable. And those who invested in him were not just a few.
A massive castle wouldn’t collapse all at once, but many believed that if the ground shook slightly, it would eventually crumble.

However, Crateon was too massive.

If Crateon were to collapse, there would be too many affected.

Amidst growing anxiety and suspicion, Margaret set fire to it.

The principle was that the contents of the trial should not leak outside, but the principle was not upheld.

Margaret, who accused me of being a murderer, was already spreading her accusations, becoming a widely accepted fact.

As always, rumors intertwined, and I, who had not only killed my husband, Viscount Crateon but had also become a villain who brought crisis to Crateon, was now the target of blame for everyone.

This wasn’t a matter to be judged rationally.

People just needed someone to blame.

From third-rate gossip journalists to workers who once worked at Crateon.

Everyone was eager to tear me apart.

Just as I desired.

Ignoring accusing glares, I moved my steps slowly without caring and could calmly enter the courtroom for the next attack did not occur thanks to the guards who were taken aback by the sudden attack on the spectators.

Of course, there was no difference inside the courtroom.

After the perfectly defeated first trial, this was the first time I had revealed my appearance. Thanks to that, all the attention of the world was focused on me.

So, I deliberately chose a dress with a design that could conceal my belly, with a skirt spreading in all directions.

In a situation where people were curious about my inheritance, the gazes that stared at me were sharpened.

“The defendant, Lady Livianna Crateon, has arrived at the main courtroom.”

Whether the judge was also curious about my situation, as soon as the assistant announced my arrival, the judge’s gaze also turned towards me. I tried not to show it, but his gaze was subtly checking my belly.

That much implied that the presence or absence of a child would determine the outcome of this trial.

What I wanted to bet on was not the truth but the future.

Having the child was the only way to have a legitimate reason to succeed Crateon.

I felt the gazes that had been following me persistently since I entered the courtroom and sat down.

On the opposite side, Margaret, who had arrived earlier, was already seated.

I looked down at her from head to toe as if evaluating.

Margaret flinched for a moment but soon stretched out her chest, presenting herself as if showing off.

It wasn’t groundless confidence. So far, Margaret was the most splendidly adorned person I had ever seen. Her face was whitened, and she had applied heavy makeup, making her facial features stand out sharply, leaving a strong impression.

However, there was a strange discomfort.

As I observed her more closely, I soon realized the nature of that discomfort and inwardly clicked my tongue.
Unlike me, who concealed my body in an inflated dress, she wore a dress that subtly emphasized her figure by exposing her neck and shoulders. The moment I realized that fact, it seemed like laughter would burst out.

It was a dress design I frequently enjoyed, no, not just the dress.

The twisted-up hair, earrings, rings – everything adorning her was to my taste. It felt as if I were looking at another version of myself in the mirror.

However, what Margaret was imitating was not me.

She was imitating Lady Crateon.

Without realizing how contradictory her actions were.

Suppressing the desire to burst into laughter, I turned to the judge.

The judge, who had been diligently checking the status of my belly, seemed to find it difficult to judge by sight alone. He decided to concentrate on the trial again.

“Did the defendant have a representative in the previous trial?”

“At that time, due to my health condition, I sought temporary assistance.”

“Then, may I assume that you are well enough to move now?”

Instead of answering, I turned to Septer.

Septer, as if waiting, handed a thick envelope of documents to the judge through the assistant.

“This is a medical opinion regarding our lady.”

“A medical opinion?”

“Our lady came here to prevent unreasonable misunderstandings but is not in good health at the moment. Therefore, for any unforeseen circumstances, we request permission for a physician to accompany her.”

After Septer finished speaking, the judge scrutinized me.

Instead of answering, I deliberately exposed my thin arms and shook my shoulders. My body, which had not been taken care of well, was even paler than usual. It was enough to add credibility to my words.

“Very well. Permission granted.”

As the judge willingly granted permission, the assistant arranged seats for the accompanying physicians.

I exchanged glances with the physicians quickly and then looked back at the judge.

With that, the sound of the judge’s gavel echoed.

It signaled the beginning of the trial.