My Husband Caught Me Having an Affair - Chapter 103

A short while later, the guard who had entered the gambling den came back out. He exchanged a subtle glance with his fellow guard before turning to Vincent.

“You may enter.”

“No.”

At Vincent’s response, the guard whose collar he had grabbed earlier scowled.

“What? You were just making a scene demanding to see the owner, and now—”

“That’s right. So tell him to come out. I’m not taking a single step inside.”

“The boss is inside. He agreed to meet you as you wanted, so why are you being so stubborn?”

At the other guard’s words, Vincent’s drunkenly flushed face stiffened.

“And what am I supposed to trust that I’ll walk in there safely? Who knows what could happen to me inside?”

“What nonsense is this—”

“Go call him out, now. Otherwise, I’ll go straight to the police and spill everything.”

Vincent cut off the guard’s words. The guard looked at him, dumbfounded.

“Spill what? This is a legal establishment. You think causing a fuss because you lost some money gambling is going to change anything? A knight acting like this should feel ashamed.”

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it? Let’s see how this ends, then. You’re all finished. The only thing left is for your heads to roll.”

Vincent jabbed a finger in the faces of both guards in turn.

“Damn it…”

One of the guards clicked his tongue and swatted Vincent’s hand away. Vincent staggered, then turned and began stumbling away.

“It’s all or nothing now. Did they really think I’d go down alone? Not a chance…”

Muttering under his breath, Vincent disappeared into the distance. The two guards exchanged glances, then shook their heads and returned to their posts.

By the time Vincent had left the vicinity of the gambling den and entered a deserted, dark alley—

“Wait.”

A voice called out from behind. When he turned, he saw a man wearing a hat standing there.

Vincent knew him as Guillaume Bonello. But in truth, his real identity was Mathieu Anglade, an agent of Girard’s intelligence unit.

Mathieu had rushed over after receiving a report from one of his subordinates, who had been monitoring Vincent.

“I hear you were looking for me, Sir Vincent.”

Vincent gritted his teeth and staggered toward Mathieu.

“Guillaume, you bastard… What happened to our deal?”

“What deal are you referring to?” Mathieu asked, standing firm with both hands resting on his cane.

“You promised to clear all my debts if I killed the Duke of Dumont. You even said you’d rip up the promissory note right in front of me. And now you’re acting like it never happened?”

Mathieu’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your voice is too loud. What if someone overhears?”

“Shut up. Hand over the promissory note before I expose everything.” Vincent growled.

Mathieu merely shrugged. “That won’t be possible. After all, the Duke of Dumont isn’t dead yet.”

“He’s dead! They just haven’t announced it yet, but he’s definitely dead. No doubt about it!” Vincent hissed in a hushed voice.

Mathieu observed him quietly before asking, “And what makes you so certain?”

“Are you seriously asking me that? I cut him down with my own hands. I sliced through his armor and felt my blade sink deep enough to shred his insides. If it hadn’t been, there’s no way he would have lost that much blood. No physician in the world could have saved him from a wound like that.”

As he spoke, Vincent’s hands trembled violently.

Mathieu kept his keen gaze locked on Vincent.

The informant embedded within the Dumont knights had said the same thing. That Ethan’s wound had appeared grievous, and that after collapsing, he had shown no signs of regaining consciousness.

The Duke of Dumont wielded considerable influence over the political and financial spheres of the Alveni Empire. If news of his death spread, the fallout would be immense. Unlike his predecessor, Philip, Ethan had no heir.

Thus, it wasn’t surprising that the Dumont side would suppress the truth to buy time and strategize.

‘Yes. Ethan Dumont is surely dead.’

Mathieu had believed this even before Vincent’s sudden outburst today. And yet, he had continued to wait for the Dumont faction to make a move—because Marlon had ordered him to.

Marlon had also forbidden any action against Vincent. In truth, Mathieu shouldn’t even be revealing himself to Vincent like this.

However, Vincent was clearly drunk, and it was impossible to predict what he might do. Even though they were in a secluded alley, he was still loudly voicing dangerous statements in the middle of the street.

If left alone, there was a nonzero chance that he might actually go to the police and say things he shouldn’t.

‘As expected, I can’t leave Vincent like this.’

Mathieu resolved to take care of Vincent on the spot. No matter how strong a knight he was, at this moment, he was unarmed and completely intoxicated.

There was no one around. If he called upon his hidden subordinates, they could kill Vincent in an instant and dispose of the body. The cause of death could be fabricated in any way necessary.

The only remaining issue was how to report this to Marlon. Marlon was not one to tolerate disobedience, but in the end, once it was confirmed that Ethan Dumont was dead, everything would be resolved.

“So hurry up and keep your promise. Bring me the promissory note right now. Immediately.”

Vincent, his face tense with anxiety, extended his hand.

Mathieu furrowed his brows as if in thought, then let out a long sigh.

“Fine. I’ll go fetch it from the establishment, so wait here for a moment.”

At those words, Vincent looked at him suspiciously.

“Really? You’re not planning to run away, are you?”

“Of course not. I may look like this, but I’m a man of my word. Besides, you know my name and what I do—where would I even run?”

“Hurry up. Not ten minutes—five minutes.”

“As you wish.”

After saying that, Mathieu turned and left the alley. The moment he rounded the corner, he struck the ground twice with his cane.

Immediately, three of his hidden subordinates appeared.

“Take care of him.”

At that one command, the subordinates swiftly entered the alley where Vincent was.

Mathieu stood still, waiting with his cane. As expected, it wasn’t even three minutes before he heard footsteps returning.

“Is it done?”

Mathieu asked without turning around. However, the voice that answered was not one of his subordinates’.

“Yes. It’s all done.”

Mathieu flinched and quickly drew the sword hidden in his cane as he turned around. But his opponent was faster. A sharp impact struck the back of his head, and Mathieu lost consciousness.

***

“So, no one has talked yet?”

At my question, Jacques shrugged.

“No, as expected. These guys always have poison capsules hidden in their mouths, ready to kill themselves at any time. It’s pointless.”

In reality, among the three assassins who had attacked Vincent that night, one had killed himself immediately before they could subdue him. The other two had been knocked unconscious before they could take their poison.

They, along with Mathieu, were now imprisoned in the dungeon.

“Honestly, how many people besides Girard would even order something like this…? What should we do? Should we start pulling out their fingernails until they talk?”

“Jacques, the Duchess is here.”

At Mael’s warning, Jacques raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“And? Wasn’t it the Duchess herself who devised this entire operation? Acting as if she’s some fragile noblewoman now would be the real insult.”

At his words, I let out a small chuckle. “I appreciate the compliment. But let’s not resort to pulling out fingernails. Torture isn’t the Dumont way.”

After saying that, I turned to the person sitting beside me, as if seeking confirmation.

Ethan nodded silently.

Contrary to public fears, he was perfectly alive—and not even bedridden.

Ethan had never actually been injured. The entire event had been a staged performance, with Vincent recruited in advance.

On the day before the duel, Friday, I had summoned Vincent to the ducal estate under the pretext of discussing the schedule and rehearsing the match.

“I know that you have accumulated a massive gambling debt and have been blackmailed because of it, Sir Vincent. I also know that this blackmail involves targeting my life during the duel.”

Clatter.

At Ethan’s words, the sound of a teacup falling to the floor rang out.

Vincent’s face turned deathly pale, as if all the blood had drained from it.