Chapter 3

When I woke up, I was already lying in my own bed. A bowl of medicine, which had turned cold, sat by my bedside, yet no one was taking care of me.

News of a 3‑year‑old angering me so badly that I passed out spread through the entire household within half a day. The servants made fun of me behind my back and laughed about how a noble Princess had been pushed to the ground by a small child.

I could not take this, and I struggled to sit up while I instructed that my things be packed. "I want to return to the Princess' Residence."

The moment I gave the order, Isaac entered my room. With a wave of his hand, my Royal Signet Ring bearing the family crest and my Palace Pass were confiscated right away.

Isaac looked at me with an air of authority and said, "Now that you have married into the Seymours, you will live your life as a Seymour and die as a Seymour. I will instruct my men to remove your name from the deed of your Princess' Residence."

After that, he locked the room, and I was held captive in my small room with no one to save me. I was determined to get out, and I gave my personal maid every cent I had managed to keep hidden. I told her to climb over the walls to inform my parents of my predicament.

The first maid was brought back to me with a broken leg. She lay on a stretcher with blood all over her while she wailed, "I am so sorry, Princess. I only made it to the second door…"

I continued sending my maids out for help. My second maid had her left leg broken, while the third maid had both legs broken. Both of them were flung outside my room door, which soaked up their blood.

All I could do was hold them in my arms as I wept with sorrow. My heart was so broken that I no longer sent anyone out to get help. The only thing left for me to do was accept everything that was happening to me and swallow every angry emotion boiling inside me.

Isaac put on a great show when he was out in public.

Father heaped praises on him as a new noble who had great potential, while his colleagues thought of him as a well‑mannered and humble young man who was also cultured. Everyone believed that I had married a good husband.

Every time I entered the Palace, Mother held my hand with tears in her eyes. She said how much weight I had lost and lamented that I did not look well. She wondered if I was unhappy, and this always prompted me to say something, yet Isaac was always by my side.

He stared daggers at me, and it felt as if they sliced every piece of flesh off my body. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.

The Seymours grew increasingly bold in the next 6 months when it came to abusing me.

Roxana blocked my carriage from leaving and forced me to call her "Lady Seymour". If I refused, she would not let my carriage leave. Even the most junior maid serving under her went over my head.

My monthly allowance was docked, and she served rancid meals to me while she rolled her eyes and said, "You can go hungry if you do not want it."

I was a Princess, yet I lived a life worse than a slave.

When it was late at night, I stared at my wedding gown and thought of Mother when she held my hand and kept telling me that if anyone bullied me, I should not hold back and should go home anytime to tell her. However, all I could do now was cry silently.

Mother was soft and did not know the ways of the world. If I told her the truth about the life I was living, I would only cause her to become a laughingstock and might even embroil her in the scheming plans of others.

So, I tolerated it.

This continued until the Harvest Gala when the Seymours were invited, and the Princess was informed to bring her husband to attend it. When Roxana found out about it, she made a fuss about attending the gala as well. "I would like to see how glamorous it is and see the hall filled with nobles."

I looked at her in disbelief. "You want to enter the Palace when you are only a mistress?"

Isaac, Camilla, and Hugo nodded in agreement.

Camilla smiled in a benevolent way. "You should go and let the entire kingdom see what a good‑looking grandson the Seymours have."

They started discussing clothes and carriages for the gala and made sure that they had everything better than mine. In the end, they took the Princess' carriage and allowed Roxana and Ignatius onto the carriage while I was given a worn‑out carriage that came in last in the convoy.

I pushed open the blinds in the carriage to see my gold‑rimmed carriage in front being occupied happily by the mistress, and it made me want to cry.

Just like that, the grand convoy from the Seymours headed into the Palace with the mistress taking the most prominent carriage.