Chapter 137

How would a wealthy socialite treat her husband's mistress?

This is obvious.

Especially when their relationship was extremely hostile, the poor duke unfortunately fell off his horse and broke his neck.

His wife, whom he had always hated, would gladly accept all his assets, including the lavish estate.

And according to the laws of Portland, all the grass, all the mountains, all the gold and silver, all the people and things, after being signed by that gilded quill pen, belonged to that noble lady.

This includes the Duke's mistresses and illegitimate children kept on the estate.

Escaping or moving out of the manor is impossible.

The knights of Portland faithfully protected the property of the nobles. Without the landowner's permission, no foreign bird could nest in this forest, let alone two grown men who had escaped.

The lady scheduled the Duke's funeral for a Sunday in July.

The weather was warm and pleasant that day. The ladies were dressed modestly yet elegantly, wearing sun hats, and exchanging cheerful banter.

"I don't know if you've heard, but the relationship between that lady and the duke is quite bad."

"More than that. If you ask me, even enemies wouldn't look at each other like that. When Will was alive, he didn't give him any face at all. He would rather bring a prostitute to the King's party than see him."

The noblewoman who spoke lightly waved her folding fan and sighed dramatically, "Poor Will."

"Oh, it's not surprising. That's an omega from the Kavida family. Everyone knows that Baron Kavida and his wife are both ugly."

"It's one thing if he's just not good-looking, but aren't there omegas in the world who are ugly but kind-hearted? You know, I'm usually reluctant to say bad things, but now I have to say it. That omega is an absolute slut. Use every vulgar word you can think of to describe him."

The ladies' conversation naturally revolved around the deceased duke and the widow who was about to inherit a large fortune.

They felt sorry for the Duke.

After all, the duke was strong, handsome, rich, and amorous, and had the romantic nickname of "Rose Lover."

But who could have imagined it?

It's truly regrettable that his wealth will now be taken by his little-known omega wife.

However, only these noble omegas know how much sarcasm, regret, and jealousy are hidden in these jokes.

Meanwhile, in a corner of the funeral, stood an inconspicuous male omega, holding the hand of a small child.

Cynthia kept her head down.

The small white flower adorning his hair made him look incredibly pitiful and adorable. The plain-colored long dress made his fair skin stand out even more, making him appear so beautiful and delicate. His slightly developed chest and slender, fleshy figure revealed the fact that he was an omega who had given birth.

The little child clinging tightly to him further highlights the contradictory purity within him.

The ladies whispered, mocking and ridiculing his situation. The male Alphas stirred with desire, lamenting that true Omegas always seemed to have tragic fates.

However, out of gentlemanly conduct, they did not, like the ladies of high society, gossip about a widowed O.

They merely cast disdainful glances, occasionally tinged with pity.

Until noon.

A four-horse carriage finally drove into Keaton Estate.

The black iron gate, adorned with curling rose patterns, slowly opened, and the carriage drove across the open meadow and fountain.

The lush trees blocked out the light, and the smooth cobblestone road made a soft clattering sound as horses' hooves approached. Ladies in fine clothes, in twos and threes, covered their faces with fans and discussed the magnificent carriage and the belated mourners.

The carriage eventually stopped in front of the castle.

Hena, the housekeeper of Keaton Estate, dressed in a solemn black robe, stepped forward to greet the new owner of the estate.

"Mrs. Michael".

A beautiful, slender hand emerged from the carriage. The ring finger, which should have been adorned with a wedding ring, was instead adorned with a black rose ring. The long, white fingertip, with its rounded nails painted black, gracefully rested on the servant's arm.

The servant who came to greet him was expressionless as he helped his master down from the carriage.

A gorgeous black dress trailed on the ground.

The center of the stage was now at his feet.

He removed his black veil and casually handed it to Haina. For a capable housekeeper who managed the entire estate, such a cold greeting was not only disrespectful but also at least unpleasant.

It seems that the Duchess was filled with disdain and disgust for everything the Duke owned.

But the next second, people's understanding came to an abrupt end, turning into a quiet silence.

It was a beautiful face that made you forget to breathe.

He was aloof and arrogant, which made his pickiness and harshness unbearable.

But to people, he is more like a goddess, dressed in luxurious clothes and incomparably beautiful, or a queen of flames and roses, the embodiment of temptation and conquest, igniting the fire of love and desire in people's bodies with his mysterious black eyes. The characteristics of male Omega are fully reflected in him.

Seemingly sensing the stares from the crowd, he felt displeased. Omega's beautiful eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he opened his folding fan, gently covering the lower half of his face.

Only a pair of cold, black eyes were visible.

"Mrs. Michael..."

The housekeeper, Haina, had probably never met this lady before, and managed to maintain her composure: "It's my pleasure to serve you."

The folding fan closed gently, then slowly opened again.

"You're Hina?"

The lady's voice was both noble and aloof.

"Yes."

At this moment, the count, who was presiding over the funeral, stepped out from the crowd.

He was initially displeased with this belated widow, because even if their relationship was bad, when the Duke of Will returned to the embrace of the goddess, his wife should put aside all grudges and attend his funeral.

Death is always a solemn occasion, and a lady or gentleman of good character should not insult the deceased.

However, even the notoriously strict and rigid count had to soften his voice when faced with such a noble widow.

"Mrs. Michael, I feel sorry for you."

According to etiquette, since Will has no parents, his closest blood relatives become his family at this moment.

He stepped forward, meeting the scrutinizing gaze of the man, fulfilling his duty as an elder. To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Michael did not make things difficult for the caretaker. Even though his gaze was arrogant, she was not impolite. She slightly bowed, closed her folding fan, and took the old man's arm.

According to the customary etiquette of the nobility, they respected the old man as their support.

A well-mannered, young, and handsome wealthy widow.

Instead of the ugly monster from the Kavida family.

This disparity was somewhat hard to accept; the noble ladies were resentful, while the gentlemen were somewhat disheartened.

After the funeral began.

A light rain began to fall. The old Earl was reading a eulogy. The Duke of Will's coffin was covered with roses, which looked like roses weeping in the rain.

The atmosphere was deep and solemn.

Sentimental nobles, recalling past events, couldn't help but shed tears.

Michael gazed at the roses on the coffin, seemingly oblivious to the somber and sorrowful atmosphere of the funeral.

He only felt bored and weary.

He knew this would make him seem heartless and unkind.

But Michael didn't care, and was obviously too lazy to pretend. His mysterious and captivating eyes remained indifferent from beginning to end, like an unyielding stone, stingy with a single tear.

Presumably starting tomorrow, news of his ruthless nature and immeasurable wealth will spread throughout Portland.

At the end of the funeral, Keaton Manor saw off the nobles who had attended.

Michael left no one to accompany him, even though many noble ladies volunteered to comfort and keep him company. But Michael only found it amusing; he remained expressionless from beginning to end, forcing the talkative ladies to take their leave awkwardly.

However, if Michael were to formally inherit the Duke's estate, he would have to remain at Keaton Estate.

To be honest, it's a very boring job. He has to meet a lot of people every day: lawyers, judges, bishops.

The handsome lawyer fawned over her, saying, "Madam, I know that a noble Omega like you would never want to get your hands dirty with evil, but heaven behold, that little rat is causing trouble in your Rose Garden."

You are kind, but if you so desire, I can immediately lock him up in jail and let him keep company with his kind in the gutter.

Michael lazily opened his folding fan, a half-smile playing on his lips: "The same kind? You mean Will?"

The lawyer's smile froze, not quite understanding. He assumed the handsome widow hadn't comprehended. He could understand that male Omegas were somewhat foolish and not as intelligent as Alphas.

"Madam, I meant the little pet."

Michael lazily raised his eyes, resting his chin on his hand; his charm made the lawyer forget what he was going to say next.

Omega's voice was gorgeous and noble. He paused for a moment, then suddenly used his folding fan to lift the lawyer's chin, sliding it down to his Adam's apple. His gaze was disdainful and mocking, yet it made the lawyer's breathing quicken and his cheeks flush.

“No, sir, I was talking about Will. You all say he’s a devoted man, and that’s true.”

Michael narrowed his eyes slightly: "His views on relationships are too open. He can always wholeheartedly and quickly throw himself into a relationship, giving love and sex, and ignoring the inconvenience caused by the difference in status."

But he also has a forgetful problem; he easily forgets that he is also a husband.

Michael sneered: "A lewd, or cheap, Alpha."

"The Os he harmed were, at best, pitiful."

...

That little lesbian stayed at the manor.

One day after a meal, Hena hesitantly asked him, "He wants to see me?" Michael, who was bored with the accounts, raised an eyebrow and said, "He wants to see me?"

"Yes, madam."

Michael thought for a moment, then nodded listlessly.

The main hall of Blackburg is a spacious circular room with walls made of black stone blocks, undecorated, and a black candle lighthouse hanging in the center.

The butter candle silently sheds tears.

A faint scent mingled with the subtle fragrance of roses in the room, and a cool breeze rushed in from the wide-open windows.

Cynthia paused abruptly, his gaze sweeping across the empty hall, his pupils suddenly contracting.

Besides the cold wind and roses, there was a warm, sweet scent in the room, like the fragrance of roses.

The fireplace burned quietly.

The man sitting on the sofa reading a book looked up. His gaze was indifferent. He rested his chin on his hand, and his long, beautiful right hand, adorned with a black rose ring, thoughtfully examined him.

Cynthia stared at him blankly, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

Author's Note:

The captain's side story will be at the end.