There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 77

It was a bright autumn afternoon, just like any other. A rather chilly gust of wind blew in, causing the letter on the desk to flutter. When Sophie closed the window, Vivian gave her a grateful glance.

Vivian refocused on her letter and adjusted her grip on the pen.

A letter had arrived from Mr. Shepherd, who lived in the south, after a long while.

He mentioned having come across the Perrington Gazette by chance and began by asking whether she had become the Duke of Beitnes’s lover. He went on to share a strangely unfortunate yet hopeful tale—saying he never expected things to turn out this way, and if Vivian truly became a duchess, it would mean the Ebellines would gain a dependable son-in-law, so he’d return home soon.

Since there was nothing else in the letter, it seemed he hadn’t heard about the rumors from Chadwick’s side or the false gossip claiming Vivian was the Duke of Beitnes’s mistress.

Feeling somewhat relieved yet bitter at this small mercy, Vivian sat before a blank sheet of paper, unsure how to reply. She had already spent several days like this.

Though it was a simple matter of denying it, Vivian couldn’t bring herself to move her pen.

We were certainly not lovers. We couldn’t be lovers. We weren’t in love, nor had we exchanged passionate promises.

Yet we held each other and kissed. The Duke, who could have taken me whenever he pleased, had instead dressed me.

If I were truly someone he meant to kill, he should have shattered me, ruined me thoroughly, tormented me endlessly, and only then granted me death—but instead, he took great care not to let me get hurt.

It might simply be a method to ensure the poison took effect, but she sensed no malice in it. At least, Vivian—who had felt every ounce of his hostility before—had ample reason to believe so.

Then why, exactly?

At some point, she’d lost the ability to discern the Duke’s true intentions. Every action must have a reason. Therefore, even his kindness toward her and his attentiveness to her feelings must have a purpose.

Vivian could think of only one reason—but she couldn’t bring herself to speak it aloud.

How could she possibly ask such a brazen question to someone who had declared their intent to kill her, who had every reason to despise her, who had lost a beloved family member because of hers?

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