Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 190 - Hundred And Ninety

Marissa’s smile didn’t falter, though her eyes were cold.

"He is busy with official duties," she replied, her voice smooth and practiced. She looked directly at Lady Anita, her stepmother, whose eyes were glittering with malicious curiosity. "I haven’t seen him in two weeks. He has been at the barracks, preparing. The King’s business waits for no man."

Ashlyn, standing beside her mother in her crimson velvet gown, exchanged a look with Lady Anita. They both chuckled. It was a mean, dismissive sound, like dry leaves scraping together.

Lord Malone, Marissa’s father, leaned in. His face was flushed, perhaps from the journey, perhaps from the wine he had already consumed in the carriage. His voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial growl that was meant to be private but carried easily in the echoing hall.

"That good for nothing," he muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "What ’official duties’ does a skiver have? Drinking wine until noon? Playing cards with lowlifes? Or perhaps visiting that dance hall again?"

He looked around the grand hall, his gaze sweeping over the tapestries and the silver chandeliers, clearly disgusted that such wealth belonged to a man he considered useless.

"He was also absent during your homecoming," Lord Malone reminded her, his tone accusing. "He left you to walk alone into your own father’s house. Now he is not even present to celebrate his own brother’s triumph. Such an important occasion, a turning point for this family, and still no sign of him. It is an insult, Marissa. To us, and to you."

Marissa smirked. It was a small, private expression, barely a twitch of her lips, but she kept silent. She let them talk.

Lady Anita saw Marissa’s silence as weakness. She took a step closer, adding her own venom to the mix.

"My Lord," Lady Anita said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "He never cared for Marissa. Everyone knows it. Leave it be. It is cruel to remind her." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

She looked at Marissa with a pity that was sharper than a knife.

"She is suffering the same fate as her mother," Lady Anita whispered loudly, ensuring the nearby guests could hear. "Being with someone who would never love you. Living in a cold house. Dying alone and forgotten while her husband warms another’s bed."

Marissa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. The mention of her mother was a low blow, a calculated strike at her deepest wound.

She felt a flash of cold anger, but she pushed it down. Not now, she told herself. Let them dig.

Ashlyn saw the crack in the armor. She stepped forward, her crimson dress swishing around her like a pool of blood. She was glowing with the confidence of the "chosen" wife.

"My husband earns honor today through talent," Ashlyn declared, raising her voice so the nearby guests could hear. She puffed out her chest. "He fights for his place. He studies strategy. Unlike some people who boast on inherited titles and do nothing to earn them."

She looked at the empty space beside Marissa, the space where the Grand Duke should have been.

"Could the Grand Duke be hiding," Ashlyn asked with a sneer, "because he is too ashamed to show himself? Is he afraid to face a real man like Carlos? Is he afraid that when they stand side by side, everyone will see who the true leader is?"

Marissa looked at her sister. She didn’t look angry. She looked amused. She looked like a cat watching a mouse walk into a trap.

She chuckled.

"We manage the estate affairs," Marissa said calmly, her voice cutting through the noise. "Each fulfilling our roles. Derek protects the border. I protect the house. We do not need to shout about our duties to perform them."

She snapped her fan open. Click.

"Unlike you, sister," Marissa said, her voice turning sharp. "Who pins all hope on your husband like someone without a backbone. You cling to him as if he were a raft in a storm. If Carlos falls, you fall. If he fails, you starve. If Derek falls... I still stand. I am the Grand Duchess. I hold the keys."

Ashlyn’s face turned red. The insult hit its mark. She opened her mouth to scream, to create a scene, to defend her husband’s honor and her own precarious position.

But her mother, Lady Anita, held her back. She squeezed Ashlyn’s arm, a silent warning. Not now. Not in front of the guests. We have won. Don’t spoil it.

Marissa turned to her father, dismissing Ashlyn completely.

"Father, Lady Anita," Marissa said politely, gesturing to the heavy double doors at the end of the hall. "Please be seated. The Dowager Duchess awaits inside the main hall. The feast begins soon. You wouldn’t want to keep her waiting. She is eager to hear about the good news."

Lord Malone nodded, straightening his coat. He took his wife’s arm. He felt important. He felt like the father of the an important personae.

Ashlyn gave Marissa one last, burning look of hatred. Just wait, her eyes said. Just wait until Carlos walks through that door with the commission. Just wait until I am the one giving orders.

She turned and led her parents toward the banquet room, her head held high, the train of her dress sweeping the floor.

As soon as they were gone, swallowed by the crowd and the music of the banquet, Marissa’s smile disappeared instantly. Her face became a mask of cold calculation. The warmth vanished from her eyes.

Lily, who had been standing silently behind her, stepped forward. Her face was flushed with anger on her mistress’s behalf. Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides.

"Second Lady was too arrogant just now," Lily whispered furiously. "So insolent before you! And she also slandered His Grace! Calling him ashamed! Calling him a coward! How can you let her speak like that? We should have them thrown out!"

Marissa looked at the retreating figure of her sister. She watched the red dress disappear into the sea of guests.

"I want her to be even more arrogant," Marissa said softly.

She turned to Lily.

"The higher she climbs, the harder she falls," Marissa explained, her voice devoid of emotion. "Let her believe she has won. Let her believe she is untouchable. Let her believe that Carlos is a god of war."

Marissa’s eyes glittered.

"The real show has just begun," she said. "Her arrogance is the fuel for the fire I am about to light."

She looked at Lily intently.

"Do you understand my instructions from earlier?" Marissa asked. "About the messenger? About the timing?"

Lily’s expression changed. The anger vanished, replaced by a mischievous, knowing grin. She understood.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lily said. "I understand perfectly. The messenger is ready. He is waiting for your signal."

"Good," Marissa said. "Go."

Lily curtsied and slipped away into the crowd, heading toward the servants’ entrance, moving with a purpose that no one noticed.

Marissa stood alone in the foyer. The hall was empty now, save for a few straggling guests hurrying to the feast. She opened her fan again, fluttering it slowly against her chest.

She watched the door to the banquet hall. She could hear the laughter inside. She could hear the clinking of glasses. She could hear Ashlyn’s voice, loud and confident, boasting about her husband’s victory.

Marissa smiled. It was a smile that promised ruin.

"Enjoy your feast, sister," she whispered to the empty air. "Eat. Drink. Be merry. Because dessert is going to be very, very bitter."