The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 149: What Should I Do?

Chapter 149: What Should I Do?

It had been several days since Rosalie had awoken, but she remained cocooned within the comforting walls of her bedroom, steadfastly refusing to entertain any visitors or leave the room. Even Princess Angelica, who persistently attempted to see her, had to reluctantly depart for the Swan Palace, compelled by her duties to attend to the Izaarian guests still lingering in Rische.

The duchess attributed her seclusion and despondency to a recent malady, often bemoaning phantom headaches and persistent weariness. Damien, her devoted husband, readily embraced her explanation, promptly issuing strict instructions to the entire household at the Dio mansion to steer clear of his ailing wife unless expressly summoned.

Deep-seated within her, the root cause of Rosalie’s anxiety and sorrow lay undeniably in the stark realization of her own predicament, coupled with the unsettling absence of any clear guidance on her next steps.

Upon discovering the absence of Evangelina from the novel’s unfolding narrative, a glimmer of hope stirred within her, kindling the possibility of finally embracing her own happiness. She yearned to share her life with Damien, determined to remain steadfastly by his side until the very end.

Yet, the recent turn of events had wrought a complete upheaval. Bound to Damien Dio in matrimony and carrying his child, she now faced the daunting prospect of surrendering her precious offspring to Asmodeus, the very being ironically responsible for orchestrating this intricate web of fate.

The current state of affairs had become excessively convoluted, leaving Rosalie’s fatigued mind entangled in a mire of uncertainties and misgivings.

’Damien... Does he truly desire this child? His demeanor always seemed to suggest otherwise... He persistently emphasized our twosome was sufficient. Nevertheless, even setting that aside... What repercussions will follow once the child is no longer here? Suspicion will linger. This predicament not only imperils me but Damien as well. What course of action should I pursue then?’

With a delicate touch, she rested her slender hand upon her flat stomach, closing her eyes in an attempt to grapple with this staggering revelation. Her? Nurturing a life within her very being?

Yet, amidst the whirlwind of uncertainty, an unsettling sense of comfort and rightness persisted. After all, the child she carried was a precious gift from the man she cherished with every fiber of her being. A gift bestowed upon her by the man whose love enveloped her entirety.

So, what path was she meant to tread?

A sudden realization flickered within the duchess’s consciousness, coaxing her to part her eyelids once more. Withdrawing her hand from her stomach, she sought solace in the embrace of a large, plush pillow nestled against her chest.

’The Izaarian delegation... Rostan had extended an invitation for me to accompany them to Izaar. They might already be preparing to depart... Should I accept the offer and go with them?’

The notion appeared somewhat radical, yet it was not entirely bereft of rationale.

Resting her chin upon the comforting softness of the pillow pressed against her chest, Rosalie whispered softly,

"I could journey there and remain until I uncover a solution to safeguard the baby or... let it go."

Her hold on the pillow tightened, the contemplation of relinquishing her child resurfacing, prompting a protracted sigh to escape her lips.

’Still, nine months is a long time. Both Damien and Angelica may insist on visiting me there, leading to a potential quandary... Ugh, what course of action should I take? I feel so utterly helpless; it’s deeply unsettling.’

Her frenzied ruminations were abruptly disrupted by the gentle creak of the door, heralding Damien’s entrance into their shared sanctuary. He was the sole individual permitted access to their private chamber.

With a troubled face adorning his pallid yet undeniably striking features, he approached his wife, sinking to his knees before her. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to her hand, his voice carrying a faint tremor as he inquired,

"How are you faring, Rosalie? Perhaps you should lie down? Your well-being weighs heavily on my mind."

Damien’s anguished countenance tugged at Rosalie’s heartstrings, causing her heart to contract with a palpable ache, while her eyes teetered on the brink of releasing a torrent of hot, salty tears.

Gently, she lowered her free hand onto Damien’s unruly hair, mustering a faint smile.

"I apologize for causing you distress, but rest assured, my condition has improved considerably. I give you my word."

The duke bestowed another tender kiss upon Rosalie’s hand, his voice now laced with a newfound sense of assurance,

"I am relieved to hear that. There is someone here to see you, Rosalie. It is Revered Altair. Although you had requested no visitors, His Holiness insisted on the necessity of his visit for your swift recovery. I, too, am inclined to believe that his presence might offer some respite. What are your thoughts?"

The lady hesitated before responding. On one hand, conversing with others seemed a daunting task at the moment, yet, on the other hand, she sensed the potential comfort that the presence of the Temple representative, and more importantly, a cherished friend, could provide, perhaps quieting the ceaseless tumult in her mind.

Maybe, this time, his divine abilities could indeed offer assistance.

"Very well. Please, invite him in."

Relieved by his wife’s consent, Damien swiftly straightened, traversing the room in purposeful strides to unlatch one of the bedroom doors, extending an invitation to the individual patiently waiting beyond the threshold.

"Good morning, My Lady."

Altair entered, his measured steps betraying an uncharacteristic weightiness as he made his way toward the bedside. Halting before Rosalie, he offered her a faint smile, tinged with an unexpected hint of poignant sorrow.

"I am deeply relieved to witness you awake, My Lady. Is your condition showing signs of improvement?"

Rosalie offered a slight nod, her wide gray eyes fixed intently on the man’s face, as if attempting to discern the subtle shift that had dramatically altered his entire demeanor.

"Thank you, Your Holiness. I am indeed feeling better now."

"What a relief. I had heard of your reluctance to entertain visitors, yet I couldn’t shake off my concern for you. I maintain my belief that my abilities might offer assistance even in this moment, so... Would you permit me to lend my aid once more?"

The duchess found herself opening up to this proposal as well.

"Yes... I suppose that would be acceptable."

Altair forced another smile, yet appeared hesitant to proceed. His gaze shifted toward Damien, who remained positioned at the rear of the bed, eliciting from Altair a somewhat chilly, perhaps even hostile, glare.

Observing Altair’s unusual disquiet, Rosalie directed her attention toward her husband as well, her lips forming a subtle smile before she spoke once more.

"Damien... Revered Altair and I would appreciate some private time. Please, do not fret. It shan’t take long."

Initially, the duke contemplated resistance, yet ultimately decided against it, cognizant of not wanting to waste Rosalie’s precious time and energy on fruitless disputes. Thus, albeit reluctantly, he offered Altair a slight, acknowledging nod before exiting the room and softly shutting the door in his wake.

Altair’s pallid gaze lingered on the closed door for a fleeting moment before he cautiously settled beside the duchess on her bed. Locking eyes with her glistening gaze, he broached the topic with utmost gravity, his tone rendered remarkably somber and distant,

"Lady Rosalie, I... I am aware of your pregnancy."

Rosalie felt a chill run down her spine, her entire form trembling with fear. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lips parched as she barely managed to utter,

"...What?"