Chapter 4 Fifty Whips for a Murder
1048 Words
In the empty chapel, Lenora had already knelt on the icy stone floor for ten hours.
She hadn't even had time to change the bloodstained undergarments she was wearing before being dragged here.
Her fingers had long since gone numb from copying scripture. They moved mechanically, repeating the same motion over and over. By the time she finished the last word, the pen shaft had rubbed the skin of her palm raw.
After the servants counted the pages and confirmed that none were missing, they simply left.
Lenora struggled to stand. Her knees were bruised purple and swollen like steamed buns.
It felt as though thousands of steel needles were stabbing into her legs. Weak to the point of collapse, she tried several times to stand but failed and eventually sank back to the floor.
Cedric's cold and harsh expression filled her mind. Memories of the boy he once was surfaced one by one, overlapping with the man he had become, only to fade again.
The Cedric she had once known would never have treated her this way.
Back when she practiced medicine in the army camps, someone had stolen her handkerchief and used it in a vile way.
When Cedric found out, he didn't hesitate. Even though the offender was a deputy general with countless military merits, Cedric personally ordered his right hand cut off.
After that, he issued a command throughout the army: anyone who dared disrespect a military physician again would be executed on the spot.
Lenora sat there for a long time, tears streaming silently from her empty gaze.
The pain in her body was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. Even though she had long stopped expecting anything from Cedric, seeing him protect another woman so openly or seeing him ignore the fact that she had nearly been violated by a beggar still shattered her.
Her battered heart convulsed violently. The pain forced her to bend forward as a hoarse cry escaped her throat.
A servant kicked open the door and brought something in.
On the tray lay a crudely made longevity pendant. It wasn't gold or silver, just iron. Something that could be bought at a street stall for less than ten copper coins.
The servant delivered Cedric's message.
"The general knows you've suffered grievances. Don't be angry. You're carrying a child, after all. Think about the baby."
The baby? Lenora picked up the pendant from the tray, bit her lip, and threw it into the brazier.
'The child has already died, Cedric.'
Refusing the servant's help, Lenora limped back to her bedroom. Soon after, a message arrived from Lady Eleanor.
"The divorce letter now bears Cedric's seal. It has been sent to the authorities for registration. You have five days to pack up and leave."
Lenora steadied herself and began packing her belongings.
During the three years of her marriage to Cedric, they had accumulated many things together.
She wanted none of them anymore.
By the time she threw away what needed to be discarded and packed the clothes she intended to take, it was already midnight.
Her knees hurt too badly for sleep.
Suddenly, she heard the window being pushed open from outside. A figure jumped into the room.
"Madam, awake so late… waiting for me?"
The beggar staggered toward her, reeking of alcohol, and grabbed her in an embrace.
"You saw it yourself. General Hawthorne already has another woman. He doesn't want you anymore. The nights are long and lonely. Why not keep me company instead?"
Lenora's legs hurt too much to run.
The vile beggar began pulling at her inner garments.
The servants in the courtyard ignored her cries for help as if they had already agreed to it.
Despair flooded her.
In a moment of panic, her hand brushed against a bronze candlestick. Her heart hardened.
She raised it and smashed it down on the beggar's head. Once. Twice. Three times.
Blood splattered all over Lenora. When she finally realized what had happened, the beggar was lying in a pool of blood, lifeless.
His eyes were wide open, like a rotten fish.
Her whole body trembled. Her stomach churned violently as she bent over and vomited uncontrollably.
A scream suddenly shattered the suffocating silence.
Selene appeared at the doorway, covering her mouth as tears fell.
"Cedric! Something terrible has happened to the poor beggar! It's all my fault. I shouldn't have brought him back. I killed him!"
Cedric looked at Lenora with eyes colder than ice.
"Madam Lenora has taken an innocent life. Men, bring out the family punishment."
Lenora lifted her pale face.
Cedric spoke each word without mercy. "According to the family rules, fifty lashes. Since Lenora is the Madam of Hawthorne Manor, the punishment should be heavier. Soak the whip in saltwater."
'Saltwater… fifty lashes?'
A metallic taste rose in Lenora's throat. She looked at Cedric and forced a bitter smile.
"Cedric, you should know I'm still pregnant. Even according to the law, punishment should wait until after the child is born."
Cedric frowned impatiently.
"Stop talking about the child. You killed someone, and you must pay the price. If the child knew his mother was such a vicious woman, he probably wouldn't want to be born at all."
The servants dragged Lenora forward and forced her onto a long bench.
The whip soaked in saltwater sliced through the air and cracked across her back.
Her skin split open instantly.
Lenora screamed in agony. Cold sweat streamed into her eyes, stinging them until tears burst out like a flood.
Saltwater seeped into the wounds. Each lash felt worse than death. As the whip continued to fall, her back quickly turned into a mass of torn flesh and blood.
Time blurred. Just as Lenora felt she might die at any moment, the whipping finally stopped.
Cedric walked up to her blood-soaked body and casually tossed a pigeon onto the ground.
"Oh, right. Your letter. As the Madam of Hawthorne Manor, instead of managing the household you've been writing letters? Improper conduct. Add another twenty lashes. When your wounds heal, you'll take the rest."
Lenora barely heard him.
Her eyes were fixed on the small message tube tied to the pigeon's leg. A purple orchid was painted on the tube.
It was Julian's reply.
- Writer
