The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 112: The Confrontation She Needed

"Mother," Jessamyn began, her voice wavering slightly.

"Jessamyn," she said curtly, her tone cold enough to freeze the air between them. "You look well...That’s a nice color on you."

Jessamyn straightened her shoulders, trying to maintain her composure despite the sharp sting of her mother-in-law’s words. She knew she would not like to see her wearing colors when her son was dead. "I’m here to buy a gift," she explained, though she knew it wouldn’t soften the Dowager’s disapproval.

"A gift?" the Dowager Countess echoed; her voice laden with skepticism. "For whom, pray tell?"

"For Ethan’s ladylove," Jessamyn replied, hoping to defuse the tension with a straightforward answer.

The Dowager Countess’s eyes narrowed further. "Ethan’s ladylove," she repeated slowly as if weighing the words. "And how is it that you find yourself in such a position?"

Jessamyn’s heart pounded, but she held her ground. "I want to make a good impression," she said simply, knowing that no explanation would ever be enough for the Dowager.

The countess’s glare didn’t soften. Instead, she turned away, dismissing Jessamyn with a final look of contempt. "Don’t jump too high now that you’ve found a fate that is only a dream to many noble ladies," she said icily.

"But again, you’re someone who sucks the life out of those who love you. You killed your child and your husband. That man had already lost his wife and heir. Wretchedness does bring wretchedness together. You do deserve each other. If only that man had married you first. My son would still be alive, and our family would have prospered."

With that, the Dowager Countess walked away, leaving Jessamyn standing in the shop, feeling a mix of hurt and defiance. The women with her mother-in-law chuckled seeing Jessamyn’s face go pale.

Jessamyn felt her breath catch in her throat, the Dowager Countess’s words slicing through her like a knife.

She was silent when her mother-in-law called her names and accused her of being the jinx of the family. But she didn’t have to talk about Jerrick. She didn’t know what intention Jerrick had toward her but he didn’t deserve to be called ’wretched’ by that woman.

Also, how could she accuse her of killing her son and husband when she knew the truth?

Jessamyn took a moment to steady herself, knowing she couldn’t let this go on any longer.

"Mother," she began, her voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. "There’s something everyone should know."

The Dowager Countess turned back to her; an eyebrow raised in disdain. "And what might that be? Another attempt at justifying your failures?"

The other ladies covered their mouths and looked at her with wide eyes as if she had done something abhorrent. After all, speaking back to an elder was strictly forbidden according to their rules.

Jessamyn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "You speak of wretchedness bringing wretchedness together, and you blame me for Joar’s death and the loss of our child. But you know the truth."

The Dowager Countess’ face turned pale with that, but she looked around and composed herself. They were in a public place. Others might pretend not to listen to them, but they were. Jessamyn would pretend everything was fine in front of others. She knew how to act ladylike in public even if she was a whore.

"And, what might that be?" The Dowager Countess raised her brows with conceit.

Jessamyn’s heart pounded. Everything else blurred around her and she focused on the woman who gave birth to her dearest Joar. She never knew the reason that woman hated her and did such a cruel thing to her. It gnawed her heart; she wanted to confront her about it.

"The truth is, you are the one responsible for that loss."

The Dowager’s eyes widened momentarily before narrowing to slits. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"

"I am not speaking nonsense and you know it," Jessamyn said, her voice now firm with the conviction of truth.

The Dowager Countess took a step forward, glancing nervously at the others in the room. Her voice hurried and unusually gentle, she spoke quickly, fearing what Jessamyn might reveal next. "If you’re talking about how the loss of his heir affected the health of my son, then~"

"It was you who pushed me down the stairs," Jessamyn interjected with a shout. Her voice trembled and she clutched and rolled her skirt around her fingers out of anxiety. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes filled with tears.

"It was your hand that caused the miscarriage. You murdered your own grandchild. Your son was hurt by what you did and gave up on living. You, Mother, you killed them both!"

Silence fell between them, heavy and oppressive. The Dowager Countess’s face remained a mask of cold indifference, but Jessamyn saw the flicker of something—fear, perhaps—in her eyes.

"You dare accuse me of such a thing?" the Dowager hissed, her voice dangerously low. "You have no proof, only your word, which is worth less than nothing. Is this for sympathy? Accusing your former mother-in-law of something so~"

"I have my memories," Jessamyn replied. "I remember the look in your eyes as you pushed me. I remember the pain and the blood. I remember the full moon that reflected on the blood that pooled around. I remember losing my child because of your hatred for me that I couldn’t understand... I couldn’t feel his warmth; he was limp...in my hands. All because you..."

Joar was not home that month, having been deployed to the border. When he got the news, he returned as soon as possible. Seeing the worry etched on his face, Jessamyn didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth: it was his mother who had killed their son. To spare him the pain, she kept the secret.

But Joar learned the truth somehow. When he confronted Jessamyn about it, she reluctantly confirmed his worst fears. Already feeling guilty for not protecting her from his mother’s abuses, this revelation crushed him further, deteriorating his health.

Jessamyn never had the chance to confront Joar’s mother. Joar did. After talking to his mother, he looked like death had engulfed him. The encounter left him broken in a way Jessamyn had never seen before.

Now, Jessamyn needed to know what transpired between them. She didn’t want to carry the blame anymore.

The Dowager Countess took a step forward, her face twisted with fury. "And what do you hope to achieve with these accusations? Do you think anyone will believe you over me? I lost everything because I didn’t have a grandson. And you are the one who lost him!"

Jessamyn stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated.