Even though it was practically like throwing a bomb, Dahlia’s face remained perfectly composed.

  Her voice didn’t even waver, as one might expect—it was as steady as if she were exchanging pleasantries.

  “Pregnant?”

  A thin wisp of smoke Rose from the cigar banced between his fingers, dissipating into the air.

  Cyton leaned back casually in his chair in the dimly lit study, his expression cold.

  It was far from the look of a husband hearing news of his wife’s pregnancy.

  Dahlia swallowed hard at his colder-than-expected reaction but tried to speak calmly.

  “Yes. Your child and mine. Our child.”

  “…….”

  Dahlia emphasized that it was Cyton’s child, as if to preempt any suspicion.

  She drew the line clearly, fearing he might doubt her.

  But contrary to her expectations, the more she spoke, the more Cyton’s face hardened.

  The dark study, contrasted with the bright weather outside, only added to the ominous tension between them.

  After a stretch of silence, Cyton finally shifted his gaze.

  He looked at Dahlia’s face once, then at her still-ft stomach, and then back again, murmuring softly.

  “A child.”

  A faint, dry chuckle escaped his lips as he crushed the cigar in his hand.

  The once-neat cigar was now crumpled and unsightly as he stood up and approached his “beloved” wife, who cimed to carry his child.

  Hearing the sound of his footsteps on the carpet and watching the shadow growing darker before her, Dahlia swallowed hard again.

  “Congratutions.”

  “…What?”

  Caught off guard by the unexpected congratution, Dahlia looked up at him in bewilderment.

  Congratutions? She had thought he would demand proof or question whether the child was really his.

  His expression was entirely genuine, though, which confused her even more.

  ‘But something feels… off.’

  Cyton had drawn close to her and gently pced a hand on her stomach.

  “Our child.”

  Despite his affirmative words, his expression bore none of the joy or happiness such news should evoke.

  Instead, he seemed to be scrutinizing something strange. Just as Dahlia tried to read his face, Cyton broke the silence again.

  “If that’s the case, I’ll have to kill it.”

  “What? What do you mean…?”

  It felt like someone had struck her on the head.

  ‘Kill? Who? Me? Why…?’

  As her mind scrambled to process his words, Cyton called out sharply toward the door.

  Moments ter, people burst into the study and stood behind Dahlia.

  “Take Dahlia to the tower.”

  What? Excuse me?

  Cyton had already stepped away from her, issuing orders as if he hadn’t just made such a shocking decration.

  Dahlia, startled, lifted her head in shock.

  It seemed others were just as baffled, hesitating despite the Duke’s command.

  But Cyton, indifferent to their unease, continued issuing his orders.

  “Until I give further instructions, no one is to enter or leave. Starting today, no water, no food, nothing is to be brought to her.”

  One of the hesitant figures cautiously asked for crification.

  “A-Are you saying we’re to imprison the Madam in the tower…?”

  “If you understand, get moving.”

  “Y-Yes, sir…”

  Faced with the Duke’s chilling command, the attendants finally acted, grabbing Dahlia’s arms.

  As unfamiliar hands grasped her arms, Dahlia, betedly realizing the gravity of the situation, clung to Cyton’s coat.

  “W-Wait a minute! Why are you locking me up? I’m carrying your child!”

  Looking down at the woman clinging to him, Cyton spoke softly, his voice surprisingly gentle, as if his earlier malice had vanished.

  “Yes, that’s right. Why did you do it, Dahlia?”

  Then, with the same hand that had just caressed her stomach, he gently touched her cheek.

  “You’ve left me no choice but to kill it myself.”

  The warmth of his touch on her cheek felt icy.

  “Isn’t that right, my dear wife?”

  With those words, Cyton offered a chilling smile and pried her hand off his coat.

  Behind the Seiyer mansion, there was a retively low tower.

  A long time ago, it was said to have been used to imprison those who had committed crimes against the family. At the very top of that tower, Dahlia found herself.

  “Madam, we’ll take our leave now. If you need anything, pull the cord here. A maid will be sent to tidy the room shortly. Then…”

  The attendants who had brought Dahlia here spoke apologetically.

  They, too, seemed unsure of how to process the situation.

  Still dazed by the abrupt turn of events, Dahlia didn’t even properly respond to their words.

  The door smmed shut, and as the sound echoed, Dahlia’s legs gave out, and she colpsed onto the cold floor.

  “What on earth just happened…?”

  She had expected Cyton to be angry but never imagined things would escate to such extremes.

  Even if he found her cim shocking, she thought they had built enough rapport over time to at least have a conversation.

  “I thought the time was finally right…”

  Wasn’t he the same man who had handed her the key to the safe just days ago? She had believed their trust and affection had grown enough to overcome such challenges.

  She had thought, even if he doubted the child’s paternity, they could resolve things through dialogue.

  But instead of dialogue, without even a chance to expin herself, she had been thrown into a tower. It was like lightning from a clear sky.

  Dahlia sighed heavily, her gaze wandering around the room.

  The room wasn’t quite a prison but also far from the comfortable quarters in the mansion.

  What stood out was the age of the furniture—it seemed like it hadn’t been maintained for a long time.

  Being in such a dusty room made her feel like coughing.

  “What am I supposed to do now?”

  And of all times, Samantha was absent from the mansion. Even though others in the household were kind to her, no one trusted and supported her as much as Samantha did.

  “Sigh…”

  Frustrated and overwhelmed, Dahlia kept sighing until she finally lifted her head.

  “First, I need to figure out why I’m here.”

  At this point, understanding the situation was her priority. She repyed Cyton’s st words to her in her mind.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Why did you do it, Dahlia?’

  ‘You’ve left me no choice but to kill it myself.’

  He had clearly said he would kill the child. That meant one of two things.

  ‘Either he despises the Seiyer family blood that much, or…”

  It was to stop me from being killed.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Jason hurriedly entered the room, his face filled with confusion.

  He had only just been informed of the events that had transpired while he was briefly away from the mansion.

  “M-My Lord, what is going on…?”

  The news that the Duke had imprisoned the Madam in the tower was already spreading throughout the estate.

  Jason, who had hurriedly issued a gag order to stop the rumors, approached Cyton to get to the bottom of the situation.

  Trying to suppress the trembling in his voice, Jason asked calmly.

  “I heard you’ve confined the Madam in the tower. Why did you issue such an order so suddenly?”

  Cyton was cold, but he wasn’t the type to act impulsively.

  No matter how angry he might be, he preferred quiet revenge over rash, visible actions.

  And this—imprisoning the Madam, with whom he had dined warmly just the day before—seemed entirely out of character.

  Jason struggled to comprehend what had happened.

  Cyton, who had been silent for a moment, leaned against the desk. Then, he lit the cigar he had extinguished earlier.

  “Dahlia is pregnant.”

  As Cyton spoke, taking deep drags of the harsh cigar smoke, white plumes curled into the room.

  Jason stared bnkly at the smoke filling the air, stammering in response.

  “…Excuse me? You’re saying the Madam is carrying your child…?”

  “It’s not mine.”

  Cyton’s bitter smile returned as he corrected Jason’s misunderstanding.

  Jason’s face turned pale as he quickly pieced together the implications of those words.

  “Then… are you saying the Madam…?”

  Jason trailed off, unable to finish the thought—that the Madam had been unfaithful to the Duke.

  “Cyton.”

  A woman’s voice cut through the tension as the door opened, revealing an unexpected visitor.

  It was Margaret, the Dowager Duchess, who had not set foot in the mansion since the death of the former Duke.

  “Let’s have a word.”