Chapter 141
Now, after all this, she was to become her daughter through adoption.
After tormenting her all along, making her play substitute for a granddaughter whose life or death she did not even know. ……After refusing even to meet her eyes, as though to say that until the day she died, Sasha was nothing more than a disposable object, as though warning her not to dare expect anything.
Over the years, illness had reduced that lofty dowager to a skeletal state, and not content with that, had begun slowly driving her toward death. Yes. Even when she had reached the edge of a cliff with nowhere left to retreat, even when she had reached a situation in which truly nothing remained but death, that old woman had never once shown Sasha the slightest opening.
How could she possibly forget? When that old woman finally died. By then, her condition had worsened by the day, and not only family but even mere acquaintances came to visit her without a day’s rest, as though they would never see her again if not then. Even on days like that, Sasha sat as though keeping vigil at her bedside, watching the pitiful exchanges between the old woman, who could barely blink, and those people.
Even when some lady who claimed to have been an old friend glanced toward Sasha and said, “If you leave like this, your granddaughter will be heartbroken,” even when all manner of people offered Sasha words of comfort in her stead, the dowager never once so much as looked at Sasha. Even if she could not move freely, Sasha was always within arm’s reach; surely she would have seen her if she had so much as rolled those dying eyes a little. Yet she did not give her even a glance, as if ignoring her outright.
The closer death drew, the more blatant her treatment of Sasha as an invisible person became. In the end, Sasha had to make excuses of delirium to those who found it strange, and even took the dowager’s bony, withered hand—the hand of the woman who was ignoring her—and rubbed her cheek against it, pretending to be tender and sorrowful. She could not even ask the dowager why she was acting now as though she had thrown away the whole farce, and so she voluntarily continued that ridiculous performance.
In any case, that old woman began acting openly and irresponsibly, as though it no longer mattered because she was going to die, and even on the day she died, she gave Sasha neither words nor a glance. Yes. How could she possibly forget that day? That day, too, having no other choice, Sasha sobbed as she had before, clinging to the hand of the old woman who would not even look at her, weeping like a child. Those who did not know the circumstances merely said things like, “She must be trying to make the girl detach herself.”
The old woman truly did not so much as look at Sasha, not even until the moment her breath ceased.
How cruel.
How could anyone be like that?
How could anyone be so terrible, right up to the very end?
Could she not have given her a single word, saying she had suffered much all this time? Even if not that, if she had shown only a fleeting look of regret now, Sasha felt she might have been able to feel a fingernail’s worth of satisfaction.
She was remarkable in so many ways. How could she remain like that to the end?
……How could she make me so miserable, to the very end?
Because their last meeting had been as dreadful as their first, Sasha had been able to prepare to leave cleanly, without any expectations of the dowager. Yet now, at the words that the old woman had left a will, she was shaken once; at the words that it was none other than an inheritance for her, she was shaken again. But then, when she heard it was a conditional inheritance, as if this were not mockery, heat surged all the way to the top of her head once more.
How could she toy with me even in death, refusing to let me go, no differently than when she was alive? If that is truly what you left me at the end, then fine. I will take your precious money and leave at once. Even if I have to use a trick, I will take that money at once and throw away everything else you cherished. Whether the lie you guarded your entire life is exposed or not, I will not care.
With only that feeling.
……With only that feeling.
“……Defendant.”
Sasha lifted her head. Mr. Turner, having called to her, looked for a moment without speaking at Sasha, who was glaring at him.
He had not expected tears mingled with joy and sorrow, perhaps, but he had not imagined such an openly cold reaction would emerge to this extent. Sasha was glaring at Mr. Turner, who was conveying the dowager’s words, as though she were glaring at the dowager herself. Even as her mouth twisted, she did not blink her tear-filled eyes. As if letting them fall would mean losing to something.
It was an unexpected reaction in many respects, but it was quite effective in making the few people in the courtroom feel the resentment she had endured all this time.
“……You said it takes effect the moment I consent.”
Sasha finally opened her mouth and spoke. In that moment, the tears spilled over and dropped in a patter beneath her chin before they could trail down her cheeks, yet her expression remained so utterly cold that she did not even look as if she had been crying.
Mr. Turner answered while gazing at her face with a complicated feeling.
“That is correct.”
“Enough.”
Looking not merely appalled but utterly incredulous, Sir Bradshaw hastily cut off the conversation that was about to continue between them.
“That will suffice.”
Whatever exactly was sufficient, Sir Bradshaw first hurried to stop the remarkable scene that was about to unfold before him.
“This case shall be transferred to the Royal Circuit Court.”
By then, no one was listening to him. The court clerk belatedly came to his senses, but even he kept glancing toward Sasha.
Sir Bradshaw continued, frowning.
“The defendant appeared voluntarily and poses no risk of flight, so ……bail shall be maintained on the condition that she remain at her residence until the next appearance.”
As soon as the dull rap of the gavel sounded, two men seated in the gallery hurried to their feet. Without looking back, they left the courtroom at once.
＊＊＊
As soon as they came out of the courthouse, Mr. Turner got into the carriage Sasha had arrived in together with her. The lawyer, Mr. Benson, had promised to come to Dilton Manor the following day and left separately in another carriage, so there truly were only the two of them in the carriage.
With the crack of a whip, the carriage carrying the two of them set off. Once more, Mr. Turner irritably pushed up the spectacles sliding straight down the bridge of his nose.
“I saw that your office had burned down.”
A voice came from across from him. Mr. Turner, who had kept his mouth shut to give her time to swallow down her emotions or whatever else, lifted his gaze. Dry-looking green eyes were staring straight at him.
With a sour expression, Mr. Turner said, “……So you went there.” Sasha nodded.
“Yes. Everything had burned. All of it, every last thing. It was fortunate the fire didn’t spread to the neighboring building. Are your employees safe?”
“……Of course. I gave them leave early and had them rest.”
“I’m glad no one was lost. What about the documents? There must have been important ones.”
“Those, too, I sorted through and moved elsewhere. I had already……”
“……You knew they would come to catch you.”
Without needing him to explain first, Sasha was questioning him in order and fitting the puzzle pieces together.
“But why did you end up in that state?”
Thinking that it was, in many ways, a question very like her, Mr. Turner smiled crookedly.
“Because despite fleeing, I was caught, rendering it all pointless. After I heard news of your accusation, I tried to meet you……”
“Who kidnapped you?”
“Who knows. A retired soldier or something……. He seemed to be acquainted with your husband.”
Sasha fell silent. Mr. Turner continued, not particularly concerned.
“Your husband came and released me. He sent me off, telling me to go to you at once. That is why……. I was able to attend, even if late. To be honest, given the situation, I was pessimistic, but that clerk named Klimbrand……”
“Is he safe?”
Mr. Turner answered without minding that she had cut him off.
“Yes. Your husband is not merely safe; perhaps I should say he is extraordinary. Good grief, even if he is a soldier, I have never seen a man so large and strong. In any case, well……”
In the middle of speaking, Mr. Turner frowned. Perhaps the scab near his lips had split, because a stinging pain came over him. Mr. Turner accepted the handkerchief Sasha offered without refusing and dabbed away the blood that had seeped out.
“Well, this is an urgent matter too, but……. Don’t you have something else to ask me besides this?”
Mr. Turner glanced across from him as though gauging her mood.
The woman’s face looked perfectly calm. Unbelievably so. To the point that he wondered if it was truly the same face that, just moments ago in the courtroom, had glared at him while tears fell one after another.
Her composed gaze upon him seemed to ask, “What would that be?” Mr. Turner, feeling dumbfounded, pushed up his slipping spectacles again.
“I mean about the dowager’s will. Her final wish to adopt you formally.”
“……Yes.”
Yes. What sort of answer was that?
Mr. Turner sighed, wishing she would rather shout and demand answers as she had earlier, even if she did not cry.
“Are you not going to ask about it? I thought you would ask about that first.”
“…Isn’t that already decided, without any room for choice?”
Sasha replied with an expressionless face, looking at him as though he were the strange one.
Then she said this.
“Yes. Normally, I suppose I would have been given something that could be called a choice. Like when I received the will containing the contents of that absurd conditional inheritance.”
“…….”
Since it was perfectly reasonable, Mr. Turner offered no particular rebuttal and kept silent.
“At the very least, I should be cleared of the charge that I obtained a marriage license under a false name. I truly was Sasha Grayson, after all. Not her granddaughter Sasha, but Sasha, her adopted daughter.”
“…….”
“This will make the remaining trial far more favorable as well. Besides, isn’t it good material for stirring sympathy in the jurors?”
Sasha brought over the bag beside her and rummaged through it.
“Since we’re on the subject, I think it would be best to sign it right now.”
“Miss Sasha.”
At last, Mr. Turner could not hold back and called her name.