How To End This Marriage-Chapter 60: Reflections of Deception

As the echoes of my confrontation with the mysterious voice still reverberated in my mind, I found myself grappling with an overwhelming sense of confusion and unease. The enigmatic words that had passed between me and my own reflection in the shattered mirror haunted my thoughts.

"I have no idea what is happening to me. I have no idea what those sentences meant that I spoke to that unknown voice echoing in my ear. Everything feels different, as if I’ve become a different person all of a sudden," I mused, my mind whirling with uncertainty.

Unable to contain my distress, I pressed my hand to my forehead and glanced at the broken mirror, which now lay in shattered pieces on the table. The reflection that had once gazed back at me with a mocking smirk remained fragmented, each shard reflecting a distorted version of myself.

"Is this an illusion?" I wondered aloud, my voice tinged with disbelief.

A chilling response emerged from the fractured mirror, as if the shattered pieces still held a semblance of sentience. "How does it feel to see the changed you? Is it a good feeling?"

My heart raced as I stared at the remnants of the mirror, my own voice now a source of eerie discomfort. "W-who are you?"

The broken pieces of glass seemed to mock me further as the voice replied, "I am you!"

"No, you are not me. I’m not like you. I’m not strong. I don’t mock. I’m only here to survive; that’s all I want," I protested, my voice quivering with fear and denial.

But the voice persisted, its eerie tone unwavering. "I too think that way. I’m not strong. I don’t mock, and I want to survive. That’s how you were born, Bernice. Because you and I are the same. You are me, and I am you. That is our destiny."

Overwhelmed by the confrontation with my own reflection, I could no longer bear the unsettling presence of the shattered mirror. With a surge of emotions, I slammed my hand onto the table, causing the remaining fragments to scatter and the mirror to shatter into even smaller pieces before me.

"I said I’m not you!" I shouted, my voice filled with a mixture of fear and defiance.

The commotion had not gone unnoticed, and several maids rushed into my room, alarmed by the sound of shattering glass and my apparent distress.

"Duchess, what happened? We heard a sound," one of the maids inquired, her concern evident as she approached cautiously.

"Duchess, are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you? You should move away from there; the glass pieces might pierce your skin," another maid advised, her voice laced with worry.

Amid their well-meaning efforts to ensure my safety, I attempted to downplay the situation. "Did it break on its own? That’s not a good sign," one of them remarked.

"I accidentally hit something on the mirror, and it broke," I explained, attempting to deflect their concerns, though my turbulent emotions were far from settled.

The maids accepted my explanation and, with gentle reassurance, led me away from the broken mirror. Left alone in my room, I grappled with the unsettling encounter and the persistent voice that had seemed to blur the lines between my identity and something unknown.

However, my quest for answers remained undeterred, and I felt a compelling need to return to the dungeon where the assassin was held. Despite the late hour, the urgency of the situation drove me forward. To my surprise, I crossed paths with Grant, the butler, seemingly by chance.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned, my tone demanding an explanation as I confronted him.

Grant, normally composed and reliable, appeared taken aback by my unexpected presence. "D-duchess!"

"Why are you here? I never instructed you to oversee the prisoner. So, why are you here?" I pressed, my curiosity tinged with suspicion.

"I-I came to check if he was properly secured or if there was any potential security risk," Grant stammered, avoiding direct eye contact and displaying an unusual nervousness.

My skepticism deepened as I probed further. "Grant, there are guards specifically assigned to this duty. Your presence here is unnecessary. Tell me, what is your real reason for being here? What are your intentions?"

Grant hesitated, and his silence only heightened my suspicions. "Duchess, I only wanted to ensure—"

"I don’t want your silence! I want answers!" I interjected firmly, my patience wearing thin as I sought the truth.

Grant’s voice wavered as he attempted to defend himself. "Madam, I did not betray the Duke!"

My concerns extended beyond mere betrayal, and I pressed on with my inquiries. "Yes, you may not have betrayed the Duke, but you betrayed me. Why did you kill the other assassin who attacked me instead of guarding him? Did you have a hand in allowing them to infiltrate the mansion? Did you lie to me about visiting your family?"

But Grant remained silent, his refusal to answer only deepening my frustration. In my determination to unearth the truth, I reached a pivotal decision.

"Guards! Detain him immediately!" I ordered, and the guards promptly moved to restrain Grant, their actions guided by my directive.

"Duchess, what are you doing? This is not what you think. I’m innocent. Release me!" Grant pleaded as he was led away to another room and secured with chains on his hands and feet.

Unyielding in my

pursuit of answers, I confronted Grant once more. "Tell me! Why are you betraying the Duke? What compelled you to engage in these actions?"

But Grant’s response remained elusive, his voice strained as he continued to deny wrongdoing. "I didn’t betray the Duke!"

My frustration escalated as Grant’s refusal to cooperate persisted. I warned him sternly, "I don’t want your silence! I want answers! Answer me while I’m still being patient, or I can find other methods to extract the truth from you."

It was at that tense juncture that the Duke himself arrived, his presence unexpected but significant. "Madam, what are you doing? What are you doing to Grant? He could never do what you’re accusing him of. He has been loyal to the family for years."

Despite the Duke’s intervention, I remained resolute, driven by the need for answers and the suspicion that lingered in the air. "Yes, you could never imagine that he would do this because he’s the loyal butler of the Duke’s mansion. But he’s not loyal to me. I have arrived now, so why would he pledge his loyalty to me when I am nothing? Or do you think I’m lying?"

The tension in the room hung heavily, a web of uncertainty and conflicting loyalties threatening to unravel. The truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of deception and intrigue.