A few days later, a tall figure appeared at the gates of the mansion. His stride was purposeful, his presence commanding. Dark hair fell just over his brow, and his eyes, cold and calculating, seemed to study the world around him with disinterest. His physique was muscular, his features sharp, and his attire meticulously chosen. As he walked the stone path leading to the front door, the afternoon sun cast long shadows beneath the trees lining his way.
At the front entrance, a servant caught sight of him and hurried forward, her breath short as she approached. "Welcome back, Lord Dumont," she greeted, her voice a mixture of respect and nervous energy.
Thomas Dumont gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "Is Isabella at home?" he asked, his voice detached.
"Yes, sir. She is in the back garden," the servant replied.
He acknowledged her with a flick of his chin, then turned toward the back of the house, his boots striking the ground in steady rhythm.
***
The back garden was still a place of serene beauty, where nature's grandeur met the refined touch of human hands. Stone fountains murmured softly, their waters sparkling in the midday light. Pavilions, tucked between lush greenery, offered quiet havens of shade. The air was sweet and refreshing.
Isabella sat at a small wrought-iron table beneath one of the pavilions. She wore a robe of deep crimson silk, the fabric flowing like liquid fire as it draped around her. Her lips were painted to match, and her dark hair, coiled in an elegant updo, framed her face. The scene before her was nothing short of a painting, an idyllic portrait of beauty and calm, yet there was an underlying tension in the air, palpable even in the stillness of the moment.
Thomas arrived at the pavilion, and Isabella lifted her eyes from the novel she had been reading. Her gaze was steady, but there was something restrained in it, a flicker of emotion that quickly passed. She set the book down gently on the table, closed her eyes, and took a slow breath before speaking.
"Good afternoon, dear."
"Afternoon," Thomas replied flatly, his expression unreadable as he approached the table and lowered himself into the chair across from her. The only sound for a moment was the soft rustling of the leaves in the breeze.
Beside Isabella, Matteo slept in her arms, a small bundle wrapped in white linen. The child's face was peaceful, oblivious to the storm that seemed to brew in the air between his "parents".
He immediately turned his gaze to Matteo and asked, "Who is this?" Isabella felt her heart beating faster. She took a deep breath in, sipped on her tea, then looked her husband in the eyes and said, "This is Matteo, and he is our new son." Thomas froze for a second in bewilderment, then calmly asked, "I'm sorry… but what did you just say?"
Isabella kept her face composed despite the subtle shivering of her lower body and insides. Her body felt cold and it was getting harder for her to breathe, but still she held on. "I am going to adopt this child… and make him our new son, dear." Thomas chuckled and closed his eyes, "Isabella… Please tell me you are joking." "I am not joking, Thomas." She replied, maintaining her poker face.
Thomas' expression hardened as he stared deep into her soul , "Isabella, when I asked you to give me a child, I meant that I wanted a child of my own." Isabella looked down at the table with a look of shame before saying, "Thomas… you know… that will not be possible." Thomas maintained his gaze, "So instead, you want to take another family's reject and pass him off as the heir of the Dumont family." Isabella clenched her fists into her robe then returned her gaze towards Thomas. "I found this child… I found Matteo at the back of our garden a few nights ago. It was the same night as the night of the skyfall. You know that I have longed for a child just as much as you, so when I saw him lying there I simply could not ignore him-
"You say you found him at the back of the garden, during the night of the skyfall?" Thomas interrupted. Isabella paused, then replied, "Yes." Thomas continued, "So now you are convinced that this child is some kind of divine gift, are you not?" Isabella was a bit embarrassed at that statement but she could not deny its truth, "Yes. You know that I have longed for a child for a very long time, Thomas. Just as you wish for an heir to continue your family's great lineage, I too wish to experience the joys of motherhood for myself. But since that is not possible given my condition, I have prayed for the longest time to receive a child that I can call my own. And while this may not be the way we wished for things to go, I have no doubt that Matteo is the answer to my life long prayers."
Thomas scoffed in bewilderment, trying his best to maintain his composure. "Do you even hear yourself? So because of your own delusions and ineptitudes, I have to accept this stray garden rat as my son, successor and heir?" Isabella's blood boiled. "Do not say that about our son!" "Do not call him my son!" Thomas snapped back. Isabella gritted her teeth, trying to stop the tears welling up in her eyes from overflowing. She took a few breaths then pleaded calmly, "Thomas, please. This is the best that I can do. I cannot do any more than this. Please."
Thomas's expression softened for a moment, not with understanding, but with something else, something like resignation. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "All right. You may keep… Matteo and raise him as your own." Then his expression sharpened once again, "But I refuse to acknowledge him as my son, or as any part of the Dumont family, least of all its heir." Then he continued, "You can do as you wish with him, Isabella."
The finality in his words hung in the air like a bitter cloud. Isabella stared at him, her lips parting in protest, but she said nothing. She simply gazed at him, as if weighing the truth of his words against the weight of her own.
And as the garden remained still around them, the silence between them deepened, a rift that no words could mend. After a few seconds of said silence, Thomas got up and was about to leave when Isabella called out from behind him, "I plan on hosting a ball in celebration of Matteo's adoption later this week, will you be attending?"
"Yes " he replied after a long pause, his back still facing her. Then he continued walking away, leaving Isabella with enough space to finally let those tears loose.
***
In the servants quarters, Sylvia was changing into her uniform alongside a few of the other maids. She put on her plain gray cotton robe and tied the sash around it to keep it in place, then she tied her dark hair in a neat bun. She exchanged a few words with the other servants and prepared to leave the quarters when another one of the servants, Fabiola, burst into the room with childlike excitement. "Guys, you will never believe what just happened." Fabiola was someone who lived for gossip and she always came back with the juiciest news. So knowing this, the other servants all turned curious and excited for what she was about to share.
"So, I just got back from the garden and I saw Lady Isabella and Lord Dumont arguing." The eyes of the other servants lit up but Sylvia's eyes dimmed in sadness. "Apparently, that baby lady Isabella has been looking after for the past few days was actually an abandoned she found in the garden. And now she wants to adopt him." The others gasped at the news.
A few of them snickered. "And what did Lord Thomas say?" One of the servants asked, the others also joined in. "Yeah, what did he say?" Fabiola wasted no time with her reply, "He was livid. He told her that he didn't want an "abandoned garden rat" as his son or his heir." Fabiola snickered as well. "Then what happened next?" another one asked. Fabiola continued, "She just begged him to keep that child, using some sob story to try and convince him." "What kind of sob story?" "Apparently, Lady Isabella is unable to birth a child." The snickers turned into light chuckles. "Seriously?" "Did it work?"
"Yes it did." Fabiola explained. "He told her that she can keep him but that he wants nothing to do with it." The room was filled with wows and ahs before Fabiola continued with a scoff. "I feel bad for lord Thomas. He is such a handsome and successful and great man… yet he's stuck with such a pathetic excuse for a wife." Sylvia, who had stayed quiet up till that point, felt her blood boil, but she tried to control herself.
"I know right" One of the others replied, "Do you think Lord Thomas would be interested in a concubine?" Fabiola answered, "Well, what other choice does he have? He wants an heir, yet his wife is too useless to provide him one. Surely he will be looking for one soon, and I will be there to make my move." The other servants scoffed at her this time before asking, "Do you really think Thomas Dumont of all people would be interested in you?" Fabiola stood her ground and replied confidently, "Well of course. I mean, I am a very beautiful woman, even while I am stuck in this shabby robe. Surely seducing even a man of his stature will be easy. With my current role as a servant, I have learnt a lot about how to serve a man like him, plus I am also capable of giving him the heir he wishes for… unlike his inept 'wife'"
Sylvia could not hold herself back anymore, so she replied with a scoff of her own, "You are but a mere servant… actually no, you are a slave. Your life is bought and sold for a measly few hundred Crayna, yet you dare compare yourself with Lady Isabella, a whole Duchess?"
"Huh?" Fabiola replied with a look of scorn and disdain. "And just what is the matter with you? You are also a slave. In fact, not only are you a slave but you are also an abandoned just like that garden rat. Sold by your own family for the price of a month's groceries." (Slap!) Sylvia had heard enough. She gave Fabiola a hard slap that echoed across the room and sent her stumbling back.
"And it was Lady Isabella who saved not just me, but all of you! She gave us homes, food, education, jobs and she has been nothing but kind to us since the moment we first met her. Our lives are worthless, yet she treats us like we're precious. We were sold away like objects yet she treats us like human beings. She owns us, and could do whatever she wanted with us, yet she gave us the opportunity to regain our freedom. And this is how you repay her kindness, by mocking her? Have you no shame? After all she has done for all of you?" She clenched both her fists and barely managed to stop herself from crying.
Fabiola got up, the side of her face still red from the slap. A few of the servants had somber expressions on their faces as they looked back on their actions with shame, but the few who were too prideful to do the same, joined Fabiola's side. "Don't listen to her, Fabiola, she is just a pathetic dog wagging her tail for her pathetic master."
Fabiola and a few of the other servants walked out of the room with her, while Sylvia and the few that remained stayed there in silence until they each left to complete their duties.