My Bratty Wife
Chapter 144 - Hundred And Forty Four

Chapter 144: Chapter Hundred And Forty Four

"The Duchess... she’s gone!"

Ryan’s blood ran cold. The Duchess.

"Gone?" he whispered, his mind reeling.

" Duchess... Cassandra. Where...where’s she? Where’s my wife? What happened?"

Davis shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. "She was in the gardens, just moments ago. I was checking up on her, she was talking to someone, I didn’t see their face. Then... then she vanished. As if she simply disappeared into thin air."

Ryan’s eyes, bloodshot with rage and fear, narrowed on Davis. He grabbed his aide by the collar, his grip like iron. "What do you mean she vanished into thin air? I specifically told you to watch and protect her. Where is my wife, Davis?"

Davis, his face pale and clammy, stammered, "We will find her, Your Grace."

Ryan’s grip tightened. "If I don’t see Cassandra by nightfall," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble, "your head will be separated from your body. Understand?"

Davis nodded frantically, gasping for air. He released Davis with a shove that sent the man reeling back, collapsing to his knees, coughing violently.

"Now listen carefully," Ryan commanded, his voice regaining a steely calm, "you will tend to the Count. Clean up this mess. Discreetly. Inform the King of what has transpired, but keep this from the public. Panic will only hinder our investigation. After you are done, take Byron home and summon Dr. Abernathy. He needs to assess Byron’s condition and I need to find my wife."

With that, Ryan stormed out of the room, his boots echoing on the marble floor. He mounted his horse, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.

He rode through the scorching sun , his eyes scanning the landscape, his senses on high alert. Each rustle of leaves, each snap of a twig, sent a jolt of fear through him, his mind a whirlwind of worry.

Cassandra. His Cassandra. Where could she be? Who could have taken her?

He urged his horse to go faster, his heart pounding against his ribs. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through him.

What if he was too late? What if something had happened to her?

He shook his head to dispel all the negative thoughts. He had to find her. He had to bring her home. He just had to.

—-————————

The cold water of the pond mirrored Suzy’s despair. Her reflection, a gaunt, tear-stained face,her ragged dress clinging to her shivering body. One shoe lay abandoned in the mud, a single glove clutched tightly in her numb fingers, stared back at her.

"It’s already sundown, my ankles hurts" she said as she massaged her ankles. Fresh tears steaming down her face.

"Why am I crying this much?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Why does it hurt so much?"

A wave of memories, bitter and sharp, washed over her. Was it guilt? Was it fear? Loneliness? Or something deeper, something more insidious? The memory, sharp and painful, pierced through the haze of her grief.

[ FLASHBACK ]

Eleanor stood before her, her lips curled in a cruel sneer. "Have you ever wondered," she drawled, her voice dripping with hate, "why Ryan married you? Like, who would marry an ugly thing like you? You were just a transaction, a pawn in your father’s game. He knows it, and Ryan knows it too."

Suzy felt a surge of anger, hot and furious. "Elaborate," she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and fear.

Eleanor simply shrugged, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Go ask him yourself."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Suzy reeling, her mind a whirlwind of doubt and confusion.

Desperate for answers, Suzy sought out Noah. "Where is Ryan?" she asked, her voice strained.

Noah, startled by her sudden question, stammered, "I... I don’t know, Your Grace."

"My father," she pressed, "where is he?"

"He’s preparing for the hunt," Noah replied, his gaze darting between her and the exit of the pavilion.

"Don’t follow me," Suzy said, her voice cold.

She stormed out of the pavilion, her heart pounding. She had to know. She had to understand.

She found her father, Count Edmund, in his quarters, his face pale and drawn. He sat slumped in his chair, looking ill.

"Father," she began, her voice trembling, "what happened to my mother?"

He looked up, his eyes avoiding hers. "She... she abandoned you. Because of your face. You know this."

Suzy felt a surge of anger, so intense it made her head spin. "I’ll ask again, father," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "What happened to my mother?"

The Count flinched, his eyes widening in surprise. He stammered, "Cassandra..."

Suzy’s eyes had narrowed. She had spotted the count’s hunting rifle leaning against the wall. With a swift, silent movement, she had snatched it up, the cold metal a comforting weight in her hands. She had cocked the rifle, pointing it at her father, her finger hovering over the trigger.

"Now answer me, you wicked man," she demanded, her voice dripping with venom. "What happened to her?"

"Cassandra, my child, drop the rifle. Someone could get hurt." He stammered, fear in his voice.

" This is the last time I’ll ask you that question, there won’t be a next time because I’ll blow your brains out if I don’t get the answers I want." Suzy threatened him, her fingers steady on the trigger.

Afraid, Count Edmund replied, "Duke Charles shot her mistakenly, and I saw it as an opportunity. I threatened him to marry you when you came of age and to transfer half of his estate to me, or I’d tell the King, and the punishment is hanging. That’s how you were betrothed to him, but he fell ill and died. I persuaded his son to take his father’s place, and that’s how you became the Duchess for my benefit."

Suzy lowered the rifle, staring at him in disbelief. "I thought you just hated me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I never knew you despised me this much."

Count Edmund clutched his chest, a coughing fit wracking his body. "Cassandra," he gasped, his voice raspy. "Call the doctor, please."

Suzy just stared at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of disgust and a chilling indifference. "I hate you too, Father," she said, her voice cold and even.

With that, she dropped the rifle, turned and left the room, the echo of her father’s labored breathing and his desperate pleas for "Cassandra" fading behind her.

[ FLASHBACK ENDS ]

"I’m so sorry, Cassandra, that you had to go through that growing up," Suzy whispered, wiping away a fresh wave of tears. "They didn’t deserve you."

A chilling realization washed over her. Cassandra wasn’t truly gone. Her essence, her memories, somehow lingered within Suzy. The vivid dreams, the sudden sadness, the haunting glimpses of a life she never lived – they weren’t just figments of her imagination. They were Cassandra’s memories, surfacing from the depths of Suzy’s subconscious.

Suddenly, the sound of a horse’s neighing pierced the stillness. Suzy gasped, startled. "Who’s there?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

There was no response.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree that stood sentinel over the meadow. Suzy pulled off the other shoe, ready to use it as a weapon of self defense.