My Husband Caught Me Having an Affair - Chapter 130

Judging by the size of the room and the furniture, it was clearly a noble’s mansion. Or possibly a wealthy commoner’s.

Out of habit, I checked for a handbell within reach, but there didn’t seem to be one in sight.

I considered yelling, but I didn’t have the strength to even move, let alone shout.

Still lying down, I lifted my head slightly to scan the room, then gave up and let it fall back onto the pillow.

‘Where is this? It doesn’t look like a hospital…’

The last thing I remembered was thunder crashing as I rode down the mountain trail, losing balance, and falling from the horse.

‘Guess it makes sense my whole body aches after a fall like that… Honestly, I should probably just be grateful to be alive.’

Still, since nothing hurt terribly, it didn’t seem like anything was broken. That alone felt like a stroke of luck.

Honestly, I couldn’t help but feel a little wronged. Who could’ve predicted that thunder and lightning would strike right at that moment?

This world didn’t have weather forecasts like my previous life, and before sunset, there hadn’t been any signs of rain. Sure, the night had been cloudy enough to hide the moon, but expecting a storm based on that alone would’ve been too much.

‘Let’s see. I fell off the horse but luckily didn’t get seriously injured… Jacques and Ines must’ve found me afterward.’

They probably thought it was too risky to take me directly to the ducal estate and brought me somewhere nearby instead.

Judging by the room, it didn’t look like a hospital or inn. Most likely, it was the home of a local landowner. If they mentioned the name Dumont, anyone would have gladly offered a room.

‘…Ethan must’ve been so worried.’

I felt a sudden pang of guilt toward him.

Since the entire operation had been kept secret from Ethan, I had been determined not to fail. I’d assumed he’d oppose it out of concern for my safety, which made me all the more determined to avoid this kind of outcome.

If it were Ethan, it wouldn’t be strange at all if he had stayed by my side until I woke. The fact that he wasn’t here probably meant the doctor had advised against it… or that something important was keeping him.

‘Most likely, he’s busy dealing with Girard.’

I hoped he hadn’t overreacted to my injury and launched a full offensive. And what about Mael? Is he safe? My mind was full of anxious thoughts.

‘I shouldn’t just be lying here like this.’

Of course, I knew that the most important thing right now was to recover safely. Still, more than anything—I just wanted to see Ethan. There was so much I needed to say to him.

Is there no way to get word outside? As I was squirming to try again, the door opened at just the right moment.

A maid entered with a basin of water and a towel, but stopped in her tracks when she saw me.

“Where is this place? Where’s Ethan right now?”

I hurriedly asked, but the maid gave no answer. She simply set the basin down on the bedside table and turned to leave.

“Wait a second. Didn’t you hear me?”

I forced my dry, cracked voice to rise, but the maid still ignored me and walked out.

I blinked, staring blankly at the now-closed door.

‘…What is this? Could she be deaf?’

No, that wasn’t it. We had made eye contact just now. Even if she were deaf, she’d have seen I was trying to speak—and naturally would’ve responded somehow.

Something felt off. Maybe I was misunderstanding the situation.

Just then, the door opened again. This time, a bearded man in his thirties or forties appeared.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“…Are you a doctor?”

“Yes. I’ll take your temperature briefly.”

He pulled a thermometer from his bag and tucked it under my arm.

“Where am I?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“What? Why not?”

The doctor gave no reply. He checked the thermometer, then asked another question.

“Is your memory clear? Are you able to move your arms and legs properly?”

“Do you even know who I am?”

“……”

Again, he answered with silence.

Rising to his feet, he said, “Your meal will be brought shortly. Medication is included—take it after eating.”

“Why won’t you answer me? Aren’t you someone Ethan hired?”

Without a word, the doctor left the room.

‘…This is bad.’

Until now, I had assumed it was Jacques who had found me after I collapsed. The timing made sense—he would’ve arrived in about ten minutes, and it seemed unlikely anyone else would be on that mountain path at the time.

But what if that wasn’t the case? What if someone else found me before Jacques did?

I unconsciously bit my lip.

Given the situation, this wasn’t the time to lie around. I slowly pushed the blanket aside and tried to get up.

“Ugh…”

It felt like my entire body was screaming, but I gritted my teeth and endured it.

After several minutes of effort, I managed to reach the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. But that was all I could manage.

When I tried to stand while clinging to the bedpost, I collapsed back onto the mattress. I repeated the attempt several more times before concluding that walking upright would be impossible for now.

‘…Alright.’

I steadied myself, then lowered to the floor using the post for support. On elbows and knees, I began crawling toward the door.

My entire body still ached like it was breaking apart, but I endured it with all my strength. Eventually, I reached the doorway. Leaning against the wall, I caught my breath, then reached both hands toward the doorknob and tried turning it with my weight.

But all I heard was a click—it didn’t even turn halfway.

‘Locked. Just as I thought.’

I lay back down and began crawling toward the window.

If I could look outside, I might at least get a sense of where I was. And if I was on the second floor or lower, escape might not be entirely impossible.

But when I pulled the curtain aside, all I saw was wooden boards.

The other windows were the same. All completely boarded up from the outside, sealing off any connection to the outside world.

‘…They went this far?’

There was no longer any doubt.

The one who had imprisoned me here was undoubtedly Marlon Girard.

***

“So. The Duchess of Dumont has woken up?”

“Yes.”

At Marlon’s slow question, the doctor responded calmly.

“How did she seem? Was she fully conscious?”

“Yes. She asked where she was, and whether I had been hired by the Duke of Dumont. I did not respond, of course.”

“Good. No matter what she says from now on, do not respond. I’ve heard she’s quite skilled at charming people.”

“Understood.”

“How is her condition?”

“As I mentioned before, there are no fractures, but she does have significant bruising all over. She won’t be able to move properly for a while. It’ll be two or three days before she can walk unassisted.”

Marlon nodded at the doctor’s report. “I see. Continue reporting her condition regularly.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The doctor bowed and left the room.

Marlon absentmindedly fiddled with the Girard signet ring on his middle finger.

Getting the Duchess of Dumont in his grasp had been an unexpected windfall. No—it was more accurate to call it a stroke of luck, considering everything that had led up to this.

That day, the note Marlon received had one name on it: Gaspard Marceau.

Gaspard Marceau. He was a senior agent in Girard’s intelligence division, currently ranked number four. Though he lacked Raymond Garel’s experience, he outranked Mathieu Anglade. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve been next in line to lead the division after Raymond.

It was certainly plausible that Gaspard would benefit from this incident. If Mathieu were named the next leader, Gaspard’s future would become uncertain.

If Gaspard was the traitor, it all made sense. He had ambition, wasn’t particularly loyal, and even enjoyed risky assignments.

But precisely because of that, Marlon doubted it was him.

If Gaspard were the traitor, it would be too obvious. Too predictable. And if he had been predictable, Marlon wouldn’t have been blindsided like this.

Of course, he had no concrete evidence—just a hunch. Gaspard might very well be the traitor. Only an investigation would reveal the truth.

But investigations took time. Camille surely knew that.

The fact that she had shown up at the meeting point herself—and sent only Gaspard’s name without any evidence or further mention—meant only one thing.

This was a ploy to buy time.