CHAPTER 130: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTY

The carriage wheels crunched softly over the fallen leaves and dry twigs as it crested the hill. The air here was fresher than in the estate below, carrying the clean scent of grass and the nearby lake.

The driver pulled the reins. "We have arrived, Your Grace."

Marissa took a deep breath. She smoothed the skirt of her royal purple dress, the silk feeling cool under her palms. She adjusted the necklace at her throat, making sure it sat perfectly. Her heart was beating a fast, happy rhythm against her ribs.

She opened the carriage door before the footman could reach it. She stepped down, her shoes sinking slightly into the soft grass.

The old oak tree stood in the distance, its massive branches spreading out like a protective canopy against the blue sky. It was majestic. The sun filtered through the leaves, creating a dappled pattern on the ground.

Marissa walked toward it, a bright, expectant smile on her face.

She saw a figure standing near the edge of the small lake that sat beside the tree. The man was facing away from her, looking out at the shimmering water. He was wearing a fine coat, his posture relaxed.

Marissa’s smile widened. She gripped her fan tightly.

"I’m here," she called out, her voice soft and sweet.

The figure turned around slowly.

It was not Derek.

It was Carlos.

Marissa’s smile dropped immediately. It didn’t fade; it vanished, replaced instantly by a look of cold, heavy disappointment. The light in her eyes died.

"It’s you," she said flatly.

Carlos stood there, smiling. It was a confident, oily smile. He was dressed in his best suit, his hair slicked back. He looked at her as if he were a hunter who had just trapped a prize.

"I know my sister-in-law manages the household with such great care," Carlos said, his voice smooth and fake. He walked slowly toward her. "It must be so difficult. All that work. All that responsibility on such delicate shoulders."

He stopped a few feet away, looking her up and down with a gaze that made Marissa’s skin crawl.

"My brother can’t help much," Carlos continued, shaking his head with mock pity. "Always leaving you in an empty room. Cold. All by yourself without the feeling of a man."

He took a step closer.

"It must have been frustrating," he murmured. "A woman needs warmth. She needs attention."

He spread his hands in a gesture of generosity.

"Let me help you," Carlos said. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Help you relieve some tension. Let me help you feel like a woman. Let me give you the satisfaction you deserve."

Marissa looked at him with pure disgust. Her lip curled slightly.

"Wasn’t this the man who almost struck me last night because of his wife?" she thought to herself. "He was screaming at me, calling me a murderer. And now he wants to bed me? What a fool!"

She didn’t speak immediately. She looked past him, scanning the area under the oak tree.

She noticed the little setup he had created.

It was an intimate scene. There were two comfortable wooden chairs with plush cushions. A small, round wooden table sat between them. On the table was a spread of food—delicate pastries, sugar-dusted tarts, and fruit. They were Marissa’s favorites. There was a fine porcelain pot of tea, steaming gently, and a crystal jug of water with lemon slices.

It looked romantic. It looked expensive.

To Marissa, it looked like wasted funds.

"Where did he get the money for this?" she thought, calculating the cost of the imported tea and the fine porcelain. "I limited his allowance. He has nothing."

Then she remembered Ashlyn still has her dowry.

"Must have been from Ashlyn’s dowry," she thought. "He stole from his pregnant wife to try and seduce her sister. He is truly bottomless."

She didn’t care about the money since it wasn’t from the estate account. It was Ashlyn’s loss.

Marissa walked past him. She didn’t spare him a glance. She walked with the regal bearing of the Grand Duchess. She went to one of the wooden chairs and sat down.

She snapped her fan open.

Click.

She began to flutter it, the cool air hitting her face, blowing away the scent of his cologne. She crossed her legs and looked at him with bored, heavy-lidded eyes.

"You jest, brother-in-law," Marissa said calmly. "If you help me, who helps my sister? She is in bed, carrying your heir. Surely she needs your ’satisfaction’ more than I do."

Carlos let out a short, arrogant chuckle. He didn’t sit in the other chair. Instead, he moved to the table. He sat on the edge of the table, right in front of Marissa.

He was hovering over her, invading her personal space. His legs dangled near her knees. He leaned down, bracing his hands on the wood on either side of his hips.

"Ashlyn is... indisposed," Carlos said dismissively. "She understands that a man has needs."

He looked at her intently. His gaze traveled from her eyes down to her neck, lingering on her collarbone where her necklace rested.

"If not for the marriage switch," Carlos said softly.

Marissa’s hand, fanning the air, paused for a fraction of a second.

"You..." Carlos said. He reached out a hand, hovering near her neck but not touching her yet. "...would be my wife now."

He finished the sentence with a sigh of longing. "Surely we are destined."

Marissa stared at him. Her mind raced.

"How did he know?" she thought. "The marriage switch was a secret between Ashlyn and our father. Ashlyn must have told him. She must have confessed it to try and win his favor."

She smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.

"Is that so?" she asked.

Carlos took her smile for encouragement. He gained confidence.

"But Ashlyn carries my child now," Carlos said, trying to sound responsible. "I have to take responsibility. I cannot leave her. Not completely."

"Indeed," Marissa replied. Her voice was dry.

Carlos reached out. This time, he didn’t stop. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Marissa’s ear.

His fingers were warm and slightly damp. They lingered on her earlobe, rubbing it gently. Then, his hand moved down to her cheek. He stroked her skin with his thumb.

Marissa flinched. It was a visceral reaction. Her skin crawled where he touched her. It felt like a slug moving across her face.

Carlos saw the flinch, but he misinterpreted it. He smiled. He thought she was shy. He thought she was trembling with desire, just like Ashlyn did.

"You are nervous," he whispered. "It is cute."