"Fiona and I grew up together. She traveled all the way to Jiangnan to look after me, and now she’s carrying my child—how could I possibly turn my back on her?"
"Dear sister, you were raised in the countryside, perhaps you don’t understand how things work in the capital. Word is you’ve been married for four years without bearing a child, and I... I worried about the family line. That’s the only reason. I’ve always cared deeply for Ethan, and just having his affection is enough for me—I never meant to compete with you. But my child is the only heir to the family. If the eldest son is born to a concubine, what will people say? Please, sister—help me do right by the family."
"And you? Still think you’re someone important? Can you even compare to Fiona—so gentle and well-read? Step back and let her take your place already."
That word again—step aside. Over and over. It rang in her ears like a bad tune she couldn’t escape.
Lillian Harris stood in the hall, knees sore and stiff, her face blank. She looked across the room.
There he was—her husband, Ethan Cameron. Tall, sharp-featured, dressed to impress.
And the woman leaning in his arms? That was Fiona Harris. Younger, softer. A familiar red dress couldn’t hide the small bump at her waist.
Her own half-sister. Samantha had taken her place in the family—and now carried her husband's child.
Because after four years of marriage, Lillian still hadn’t conceived, so the elders sent Ethan off to a temple in Jiangnan to pray for a son. And the night he left, her mother-in-law, Mrs. Clark, mocked her for not preparing bathing water, calling her useless.
“Go kneel at the ancestral hall and pray we don’t die out with you! One hour a day, every day, until Ethan returns!”
So she did. For three straight months she knelt and begged for that child.
And then she was summoned here.
To be told the child had arrived—just not through her.
It was almost laughable.
"Ethan, stop, people will talk," Fiona said softly, leaning back like a shy girl trying to do the right thing. "I… I still have to pour tea for sister and offer my respects."
"Fiona," Ethan murmured, shaking his head, "I told you—it should be her pouring tea for you."
Lillian’s heart thudded. She pulled herself together, voice cool and even. "And what do you mean by that, husband?"
Ethan scowled. "What else? Four years married and not a single child—do you want this entire family line to end with us?"
"Childless?" she almost laughed. Who was really the issue here?
He hadn’t touched her once in four years. She was still untouched, and they called *her* useless?
"You really wanted me to get pregnant?" her voice was low, but her stare sharp.
Silence. He knew what revealing more would mean. So he changed tactics.
"Lillian, you forced my hand years ago. This marriage... it should’ve been Fiona's from the start. We’re just putting things back how they belong."
She let out a hollow laugh. "Putting things back?"
Who exactly was stealing someone else's place here?
Ethan looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze. "I only married you because you set me up. Now I’m being generous—demoting you to concubine out of mercy. You’ve done your bit. Just pour the tea, show respect to Fiona, and we’ll call it even."Since when does the main wife pour tea for the concubine?
Lillian Harris finally got it. “So this is what you meant, my lord—you're demoting your own wife to make room for a concubine?”
Seeing the disappointment all over her face, Ethan Cameron hesitated for a second.
“Don’t, my lord,” Fiona Harris stepped in, gently tugging at Ethan's sleeve and blinking away tears. “Even though I'm carrying the only heir to the Cameron line, I don't want to see you and Old Madam or Her Highness upset on my account.”
“All I ask is that you remember, Big Sister, it's hard enough being born a concubine’s child. Please don’t argue over status with me. I have your love, and now this child—that’s already more than enough for me. I don’t need a title.”
She tried to smile through the emotion choking her voice. “If Sister truly can’t part with the position of principal wife, then never mind. I'm willing to just be a secondary wife.”
Oh wow... barely stepped in the door and already calling them "my lord," "mother-in-law," and "Old Madam"?
“No!” Princess Victoria interrupted firmly. “The heir of the Cameron House can never be born to a concubine!”
Ethan's tone turned grim. “Enough. Just treat Fiona well. She still calls you Sister, doesn’t she? But she’s pregnant now, so obviously needs to be treated with care. If you neglect her in the slightest, you can kneel in the ancestral hall.”
Wow. So generous. Asking her to step down, serve tea to Fiona, and now she's expected to care for her too?
They don’t want a concubine—they want a maidservant.
And what kind of fool would agree to that?
Lillian drew a sharp breath. “If this is your final decision, then I want a separation.”
A separation? That single word cut like a blade.
Over something like this?! She’d actually go so far?
“There’s never been such a thing in the Cameron house!” Ethan scowled, voice rising. “Lillian Harris, do you want to be dismissed? Then pour the tea right now!”
He slammed the table with a loud snap. A tassel slipped out from his sleeve.
Lillian's eyes suddenly locked on it. She rushed forward and grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing? Don’t cling to me—stop it before you make Fiona misunderstand!” Ethan shoved her off harshly.
Bang—!
She crashed into a chair, but didn’t even seem to notice the pain. All her attention was on what she held in her hand, her body trembling.
“This jade pendant… where did you get it?”
Everyone turned. It was a very particular pendant—red silk thread strung through a jade piece and half a copper coin.
“What’s it to you?” Ethan reached for it. “Just give it—”
“Where did you get this jade pendant?” Lillian’s voice suddenly sharpened, cutting him off.
Huh?
She had always been quiet and tolerant—never raising her voice. And now she was this fierce?
Had she lost her mind?
What was so special about that pendant?
Princess Victoria leaned in and took a closer look. Her face changed slightly. “Ethan, that’s…”
He was afraid she’d break it, so he relented and answered, “It belonged to Uncle Oliver.”
Lillian's whole body jolted. Her eyes turned red in an instant.Mrs. Clark was stunned. "But wasn’t he declared dead in battle four years ago?"
Ethan Cameron nodded lightly. "His body was never found. His Majesty never quite believed it and sent people to quietly keep looking. They finally found an unidentified set of remains. I happened to be in Jiangnan, so I went along to help with the identification."
"I found his armor at the bottom of the cliff, the ancestral sword from the Yongning Marquis’s family, and this jade pendant—he never let it out of his sight. This charm here, the bronze coin half, came from the Princess next door. He kept it on him everywhere. But the day he marched out, he was missing half of it—for no reason."
"Your Grace, this is something only our closest family would know. No one else could have faked it."
He let out a breath. "The coffin's waiting outside the city. Once I report back to His Majesty, we’ll prepare the rites and send him to the family tomb."
"Bury him…”
The words seemed to drift, like spoken by a ghost.
Everyone turned. Lillian Harris was still clutching the jade piece, halfway between laughing and crying. Then her eyes shut, and she collapsed.
"Miss!" Chloe Green caught her, panic rising in her voice.
But Ethan snapped, "Don't take her to her room! She pulled this same stunt at the wedding. Think she can hide again?"
Right—on her wedding day, Lillian had fainted after hearing the news that Oliver Cameron had died in battle. She was taken straight to the bridal chamber, unconscious.
Mrs. Clark barked, "Bring strong tea! Pour it down her throat!"
The bitter brew entered her mouth, but the nightmare wouldn’t lift.
In it, a young girl lived in a countryside villa outside the capital. She once saved a boy there—though wounded, he was skilled and kind.
He chased off bullies for her, hunted wild rabbits to cook, held her when she cried. "Don’t be scared. You’ve got me now."
"One last battle," he’d promised. "When we win, I’ll ask the Emperor to grant our marriage. I don’t care who you are—he adores me, he’ll agree."
"This coin—see it? My mother left it to me. I’ve split it with you—half my fortune, half my life. If I ever break my word, take it and beat the drum outside the palace—you’ll get justice.”
“Wait for me, Lillian. I’ll come back for you.”
His words echoed, even as his figure faded.
But what did return?
"The entire Yongning army was lost. The heir, Oliver Cameron—no remains found."
And her? She became his nephew’s wife.
That was it. Back then she had thought, what’s done is done. Treat Ethan as a stand-in. Bear him two sons. Let one be adopted posthumously to Oliver, to carry his name.
That way, her child would honor him, burn incense for him.
Who could have guessed—four years later, he was truly gone. And she? Still no child.
If she’d known—
Her eyes opened slowly. She held the jade tight and looked toward Princess Victoria.
"Your Grace, I will give up the title of heir’s wife. I wish to be wed—to Oliver’s memorial.”
