The Evil Ladies Form An Alliance

CHAPTER 5: The Doting Husband

In a dramatic and unforeseen twist of fate, she awakens from a deep slumber, only to realize that she has been resurrected. To her astonishment, she now embodies the persona of Rosette Aniston, the treacherous wife of the esteemed Duke Clifford Wildenburge. Rosette, with her striking beauty and beguiling charm, has long concealed her sinister intentions beneath an alluring facade, making her the true villainess of this unfolding tale.

"This can't be happening, right?" she thought, her mind racing with disbelief and denial. The stark reality of her situation felt surreal as if she were trapped in a nightmarish play. "Why does it have to be the deceitful wife of the Duke who faces execution at the end of this twisted story?" A wave of despair crashed over her like a tidal wave, and she muttered these words silently, feeling utterly defeated in the face of such a cruel fate that loomed over her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the moisture threatening to spill over and blur her vision. A torrent of conflicting emotions surged within her, a whirlwind of frustration aimed at the blatant injustice of her circumstances and a paralyzing fear of the impending doom that awaited her. The Duke standing before her, his features softened by concern and a veneer of compassion, seemed to radiate hope and solace momentarily. Yet deep down, she recognized the truth, this facade, this brief moment of tenderness, would soon shatter.

She could almost envision the transformation that awaited him. This gentle demeanor would give way to the fierce lion that lay beneath a man consumed by rage, desperation, and an unyielding need to restore his tarnished honor. He would sacrifice her, his own wife, without a second thought, to regain the dignity he believed was lost and elevate a new Duchess, one he deemed worthy of his affections and status.

In this intricate and grim tale, the true focus was the saintess, Cindy, the embodiment of purity, grace, and virtue. The tenderness he seemed to exhibit towards her was an elaborate illusion, a mere empty performance destined to vanish when his rage took over. "These feelings he’s displaying, none of them are for me," she lamented, the realization weighing heavily on her heart. "They aren’t even real." She spoke to herself realizing the tragedy of her fate.

The burden of the situation pressed down like an iron weight. She found herself reflecting on her marriage to the Duke, a relationship painstakingly built over a decade of shared dreams, laughter, and struggles. Now, everything they had cultivated together hung precariously by a fragile thread, threatening to unravel and leave her with nothing but the echoes of a broken union.

Just at the same moment, a resonating voice inside Satomi's head emerged.

"Sister, why don't you just die? Die! Your friends died because of you!"

Her venomous voice echoed in her mind, breaking her thoughts into a million shattered pieces. Why couldn’t she just leave her be? Curling into a tight ball on the bed, she felt the wrinkled blanket enveloping her like a cocoon, offering both comfort and suffocation. With trembling fingers, she found herself tugging at her hair, a nervous habit that only seemed to amplify her distress. Tears streamed down her cheeks, warm and relentless, each drop a testament to her pain. No matter how hard she tried to block it out, Kana's harsh words continued to resonate within her, an unwanted echo that seemed to follow her everywhere.

At the brink of despair, a hand finally reached out. His arms and broad chest embraced her tightly, holding back her hands away from hurting herself.

"Stop it, my wife." His voice was so soft, so reassuring. His body was huge, enveloping her whole being with comfort. Enough to erase the traces of the voice inside her head. "Rossete, I'm here." A gentle voice calls a name addressed to her, with the warm hand of Duke Clifford caressing her cheeks. "I know it's overwhelming, but you'll get better soon."

He called her Rossete, a name that echoed with both recognition and weight, but Satomi was determined to prove that this was indeed her body into which she had been reincarnated. Was she truly Rossete Aniston, the legendary villainess whose reputation cast a long shadow over the kingdom? Grasping her husband’s hand firmly, she declared, “Mirror, I need a mirror,” her voice steady despite her trembling hands. Her eyes, however, shone with a fierce determination that could not be dampened.

“As you wish,” he replied, warmth and adoration radiating from his gaze as he took in the sight of his wife. Carefully, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers softly along her cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Don’t worry too much, I’ll ensure that not a single scar will mar your precious skin,” he assured her, his voice filled with conviction and pride as he looked at her, filled with affection.

This tender moment stirred a vivid memory for Satomi, reminding her just how much Rossete had cared about her appearance. The weight of vanity had always loomed over the real Rossete, who constantly feared that if the Duke found her lacking in beauty, he might cast her aside without a second thought. Deep down, the true Rossete grappled with profound insecurity in this elaborate facade of a relationship, where outward appearances often masked the tumult of one’s heart.

The door swung open, revealing a grand mirror framed in intricate gold, the surface draped with shimmering silk that bathed the dimly lit bedchamber in a warm glow. As she gazed at her reflection, she felt an unsettling stiffness throughout her body, a reminder of the long period of stillness she had endured. It struck her that she must have been resting in bed for days on end, enveloped in a fog of confusion and fatigue.

To her astonishment, the Duke, his presence commanding yet gentle, swept her up with ease, his muscular arms cradling her as if she weighed nothing. She could feel the heat emanating from his body as he drew her close, providing an unexpected sense of comfort.

"You've been lying in bed for three weeks now, you really shouldn’t push yourself," he said, his voice a mix of concern and authority. His deep gaze searched her face, conveying a tenderness that was both reassuring and overwhelming.

As the reality of her prolonged slumber settled in, she marveled at the vibrant state of her hair, cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall. It was evident that the attendants had tended to her well while she had lingered in a coma, ensuring she looked as radiant as ever.

Feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment, she instinctively wrapped her arm around his strong shoulder, the movement awkward yet necessary as she tried to find her footing in this new and bewildering situation. Here was her husband, a man she had just begun to know holding her with a familiarity that both comforted and disoriented her.

Her entire appearance was unrecognizable, like gazing upon a completely different person. Her thick, long scarlet hair tumbled down in a cascade of soft, unruly curls, a striking contrast to the somber elegance of her cloudy gray eyes—eyes reminiscent of an overcast sky, exuding a gentle, unshakable calm. Framed by thick, dark lashes, those eyes were mesmerizingly otherworldly. Her rosy-red lips curved delicately, perfectly complementing her blushing pink cheeks that glowed with a soft warmth against her flawless, snow-white skin. Every detail of her face resembled a masterpiece, like a portrait of a blooming flower brought to life.

This was no longer Satomi Nanase. The transformation was undeniable. The refined, ethereal beauty before her was Rusette Aniston Wildenbrige, a reincarnation as vivid and striking as her name.

"My wife, don't worry about it. Your face didn't have any scratches from your fall. Your precious face is as beautiful as it was. And even if you have a scratch on your face, you're still the most beautiful woman for me."

Her entire appearance was strikingly different—she seemed like a completely different person. Long, thick strands of scarlet hair cascaded down her shoulders, shimmering in the light, while her dazzling silver eyes sparkled with an otherworldly brilliance, framed by long, luscious lashes. Her lips were a rosy red, perfectly shaped and inviting, while her cheeks bore a natural blush, a delicate pink hue that highlighted her clear complexion, as pure and smooth as freshly fallen snow. This transformation was undeniable. She was no longer the Satomi Nanase everyone once knew. Instead, she exuded the grace and beauty of a perfectly crafted portrait, reminiscent of a blooming flower in full glory. This was no mere coincidence—she had indeed been reborn as Rusette Aniston Wildenbrige.

"My love," the Duke reassured her softly, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. "You mustn't fret about your fall. I promise you, your beautiful face is completely unscathed. It remains as exquisite as it always has been. Even if there were a scratch, it wouldn’t matter to me, you would still be the most stunning woman in the world." As he spoke, he gently pressed his lips against her cheek, his actions a heartfelt testament to his sincere words, enveloping her in a sense of safety and love.