04
Rosamund, witnessing the scene, quickly leaped to her defense, “Mrs. Madeline Spencer, you can’t speak that way. You had a miscarriage yourself. Had you informed Gawain of your pregnancy earlier, none of this would have occurred. Our intentions were pure in celebrating your birthday, yet now, we are falsely accused of being the murderers of your child. We are innocent.”
Gawain nodded in agreement. “Madeline, Rosamund is right. I was unaware of your pregnancy. As a husband, I admit I didn’t care enough for you before. Blame me if you must, but Rosamund is innocent. Don’t fault her.”
Even now, he believed Rosamund to be innocent.
I couldn’t help but laugh, tears streaming down my face.
“Was it that I didn’t want to tell you? To do so, I needed to see you first. Gawain, reflect on when you last returned home.”
Rosamund had already stolen his heart; I hadn’t seen him for over a month before my birthday.
A flicker of guilt crossed his face as the memory of that day came back to him.
Elena, for reasons unknown, began to weep silently.
Edmund, noticing her tears, sniffed. “Sweetie, don’t cry. It will harm your eyes. I will scour every hidden corner of this earth for that bandit, and once I find him, I’ll tear him limb from limb to avenge our child.”
By the time he set out to hunt down the bandit, it was too late for any meaningful retribution.
My voice was icy, laced with unmistakable mockery, “Gawain, you’re right. You didn’t wish for my death. In truth, when you abandoned me at the racecourse, our child was still alive within me. It was only after I was captured by a bandit, who tied me to the tail of a horse and dragged me across the harsh ground. The bandit told me that in your drunken stupor, you proclaimed that in this lifetime, only Rosamund could bear your children. I was cast aside as unworthy. He said that a child not wanted by its father had no right to come into this world. So, Gawain, it was you who truly caused our child’s demise.”
Whether to voice these words or not, Gawain knew the answer better than anyone else.
He crumbled completely, squatting on the ground and sobbing with his head in his arms.
Rosamund approached nervously, trying to embrace him. She whispered softly, “Gawain…”
He suddenly looked up, pushing her away. His eyes turned blood–red, fierce as a wild beast’s, and he bellowed, “Leave me alone!”
Rosamund was pushed to the ground, her elbow scraping and oozing blood.
Her face showed disbelief; it was the first time Gawain had been so rough with her.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, looking at her. Then, I shifted my gaze to Edmund.
Meeting his gaze head–on, I curled my lips into a cold smile and coldly uttered, “Initially, the bandit’s target was only me; Elena was not his aim. Guess why the bandit suddenly attacked Elena.”
Edmund’s voice was hoarse, unrecognizable, “Why?”
“Someone was angered by Elena’s pigeon messages to you, fearing it would ruin their plans, so they decided to finish her off as well. There must have been someone close to you when you received the pigeon message from Elena.”
The Spencer brothers‘ eyes, filled with disbelief, settled on Rosamund.
She protested, “No, I truly have nothing to do with the bandit. I am so frail. How could I possibly command such a robust bandit?”
She looked pitifully at the Spencer brothers, pleading, “Gawain, Edmund, you must believe me.”
Previously, when Rosamund spun her tales, the Spencer brothers were quick to nod in agreement, always ready to defend her.
But now, their gazes were tangled with suspicions. None rushed to her defense.
My demeanor was as cold as a glacier, and my voice carried an eerie calm, like the unsettling stillness of a dead night, “I never mentioned the bandit being robust. How did you know his appearance?”
Panic flashed across her face.
She mumbled, “I guess it.”
