Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 86 - Eighty Six

Chapter 86: Chapter Eighty Six

The sound of Augusta’s voice, sharp and angry from the hallway, sent a jolt of pure terror through Baron Edgar. His face, already pale, turned as white as a sheet.

"You must hide," he whispered to Delia, his voice a frantic, panicked hiss.

Delia was confused. Why should she hide from her own stepmother in her grandfather’s house? But there was no time to ask. Edgar took her wrist in his trembling hand and, with surprising strength, shoved her towards the large, dark wood wardrobe against the far wall.

The sudden movement caused the small pearl necklace in her hand to slip from her grasp and fall silently onto the plush rug.

He pushed her into the cramped, dark space. "Don’t make a sound," he breathed, before closing the doors, plunging her into a world that smelled of cedar and old wool.

She heard Augusta barge into the room just as Edgar composed himself, turning to face her from his position by the window.

"Oh, hello, Augusta," he said, his voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. "Your commotion with Preston just woke me up from my nap."

He gestured for her to have a seat and then called out, "Preston, please get the Baroness a glass of water."

Delia pressed her eye to a tiny crack between the wardrobe doors. She could see Augusta looking around the room suspiciously before she sat down, her posture rigid.

"You are sleeping well these days, Father," Augusta began, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that did not match the angry expression on her face. "You must be feeling good."

"I’ve been eating well and taking my medications diligently," Edgar replied, his own voice sounding weak and defensive.

A maid brought in a glass of water on a small silver tray and left quickly, clearly sensing the tense atmosphere.

"What brings you here, Augusta?" he asked. "You haven’t visited me in years. So why is today any different?" _{f|ree(w)ebn\o.vel.com}

"I heard you recently met with the Dowager Duchess," Augusta said, taking a sip of the water. Her eyes were like chips of ice. "I heard you even asked her for help to get Delia married to her grandson."

Edgar asked, surprised. " How did you..."

Augusta interrupted him, giving him an angry look. " Why did you do that?"

Edgar stammered, his composure crumbling under her direct assault. "W-what do you mean, why? It is what a grandfather should do. My granddaughter is getting married, and as her grandfather, I..."

He didn’t finish his sentence. With a sudden, violent movement, Augusta hit the glass of water, sending it flying off the table. It shattered on the floor, the sound making Edgar flinch as if he had been struck himself.

"You have always been a despicable, selfish man," Augusta snarled, her voice low and full of venom. "So why are you suddenly trying to turn a new leaf now? What is your angle?"

Edgar was silent, his face a mixture of fear and guilt.

"Be honest with me, Edgar," Augusta continued, her voice dangerously soft. "You want to pick a side in this, don’t you? You are picking Delia’s side."

She stood up and started pacing in slow, deliberate steps around the room, her movements like those of a predator circling its prey. "Let me guess your plan. If His Grace, Duke Eric, gets married, you think he will finally go back to the Carsons. You think he will return to the Carson Textile Establishment to inherit it all. That is why you are on Delia’s side. That is why you are making sure this marriage happens at all costs."

She walked towards Edgar, who seemed to shrink back in his chair. "But that won’t happen," she said with a confident sneer.

"Why?" Edgar asked, his voice barely audible.

Augusta smiled. "Because we are betting on his brother, Duke Philip. Rather than the rebellious younger brother who left to start his own little business, I think the older brother, the one who is already holding the reins of power, is a much more likely candidate to win the succession."

"But Elena hasn’t decided who will officially take over the Carson Establishment," Edgar replied weakly. "Philip is just the acting head for now."

"He will be the official head," Augusta replied with certainty. "I am sure of it. So it might be much better for you to be on my side in this, Father."

As she spoke, her sharp eyes caught the glint of something on the floor near the wardrobe. The pearl necklace. She moved to pick it up, her expression curious.

But Edgar was faster than her. He shot out of his chair, snatched the necklace from the floor just before she could reach it, and then used his own body to block the wardrobe doors.

From inside, Delia let out a quiet, shaky sigh of relief, her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the sound.

Edgar, clutching the necklace, quickly tried to pacify the suspicious Augusta. "Fine," he said, his voice full of a false sincerity. "You are right, Augusta. You are always right. You are the one I picked for my son all those years ago, so I am sure that everything you have planned is for the best."

Augusta’s suspicious expression softened into a triumphant smile. "You are being surprisingly reasonable today, Edgar," she said. "Then you will agree to give Anne the Ellington Textile Establishment. It is only right, to further our plan with the Carsons and to secure her future."

"Sure, sure, of course I should," Edgar replied quickly. "Why don’t you call a meeting with the family advisors? I will attend myself and make the formal announcement."

"A great idea," Augusta said, immensely pleased with his compliance. "Then please, do me one more favor. Don’t tell Delia things that she doesn’t need to know. It will only confuse her.

Edgar swallowed hard, his fear palpable even through the thick wooden doors of the wardrobe. "Things... she doesn’t need to know?"

"Yes," Augusta replied, her voice turning cruel and spiteful, savoring every word of her final, devastating confession. "Things like, ’Oh, Delia, my dear, you are the true heiress of the Ellington family.’ Or, ’Delia, your mother didn’t abandon you. She died in a tragic carriage accident on her way to the venue of her wedding with your father.’ And most importantly," Augusta’s voice was a venomous whisper now, "things like, ’Anne doesn’t have a single drop of Ellington blood running through her veins.’"

She paused, letting the terrible truths settle in the silent room. "Something like that," she finished with a spiteful little laugh.

Inside the dark, cramped wardrobe, Delia’s world shattered. The muffled words were clearer than any shout she had ever heard. Her mother hadn’t abandoned her. She was the true heiress. Anne was a fraud. Everything she had ever known, every painful memory, every ounce of her suffering, had been built on a foundation of cruel, monstrous lies.

Tears, hot and silent, began to stream down her cheeks. She pressed her face into the musty wool of an old coat, her body shaking with silent, heartbroken sobs as the full, crushing weight of her stolen life finally came crashing down upon her.