2.
Regardless of what others might think, Freya had not been a ‘madwoman’ to her husband from the very beginning.
At the time of their marriage, she had been nothing more than a naive eighteen-year-old bride, deeply and passionately in love with Max. The person who had contributed most to twisting her into a madwoman in the truest sense over the course of five years was none other than the Mathilde Russell standing right before her.
“Uh… yes, about what I needed.”
Taken aback by Freya’s unexpected demeanor, Mathilde opened her mouth a beat too late.
“As you know, since Max took over my husband’s business, the standing of our Russell family has changed, hasn’t it? In times like these, business prospers when the women of the house provide proper support. So, I would like you to help me a little.”
“By help, you mean…”
“I’m thinking of opening a salon under the name of Madam Russell. How about you chip in for the expenses of opening it?”
Freya calmly shook her head.
“Well. I’m afraid that’s difficult.”
“Difficult? What is that supposed to mean?”
At the blunt refusal, stripped of even the slightest hint of pretense, Mathilde’s voice sharpened instantly.
“Because you are Madam Russell, Mother. Since it is a salon opening under your name, I believe it is only right that the expenses be covered by your personal fortune, or at the very least, by the Russell family’s funds.”
“Freya, how could it be only my name for Madam Russell? Surely you aren’t refusing me just because I played a little prank on you earlier, are you?”
Mathilde shook her head, her expression that of one looking at a childish girl.
“I’m disappointed. Are we on such poor terms that you find it difficult to help with even this? Well, if you really don’t want to, I have no choice but to speak with Max.”
It was always like this. The pressure to handle things on her own before they reached Max’s ears. This was the secret to how Mathilde had molded Freya Russell to her liking for five years.
Freya blinked slowly, watching Mathilde lift her teacup in a leisurely manner as if she were contemplating the matter, before opening her lips.
“Please do so.”
“…What?”
Having repeated the same conversation for five years, it was no wonder Mathilde was flustered by Freya’s sudden change in attitude.
In the early days of their marriage, she had followed Mathilde like a biological mother.
That was because the unchanging affection Mathilde had showered upon her whenever they met for ten years had built a solid trust within Freya. However, it hadn’t even taken half that time for that solid, decade-long trust to shatter.
Even after realizing Mathilde’s malice, the reason Freya had been unable to defy her and had catered to her whims whenever Mathilde acted this way was for one reason only.
She had wanted to win Max’s favor, even if it meant stooping to this. Not knowing that her husband only felt more disillusioned by such behavior…
Now, it was time to put an end to such foolishness.
“As you said, Mother, it would be best to speak to my husband.”
“You…”
Only then did Mathilde cast a new, scrutinizing look at her daughter-in-law, who was refusing to move to her will for the first time today.
Usually, on days when Max stayed at home, she would appear dressed in vulgar attire from head to toe.
Looking at her now, Freya had a bare face, her hair braided into a single plait draped over one shoulder, and she was wearing an ivory chemise dress with light green ribbons, draped with a matching light green shawl.
Free from her excessive styling, Freya radiated a fresh, yet somehow noble aura befitting her age.
Mathilde clicked her tongue inwardly and curled her lips.
“Oh, that’s right. I heard Max called for you yesterday? Were you perhaps unhappy with the conversation you had? Is that why you’re staging a protest against me now?”
From what she had heard, the conversation between the son and daughter-in-law yesterday had ended without a single loud voice echoing through the walls for the first time in years. Even so, knowing Freya, she was certain that she had only said things that would eventually weary Max.
“Freya, that is how men are. I tell you this repeatedly. Men are weak to a woman’s temptations. You should be more proactive. I think the dress you wore yesterday suited you better.”
Pretending to offer advice, Mathilde always led her toward paths that would make her appear more ridiculous and miserable.
Freya, who knew nothing of love or men, had followed her advice. Dressing in nothing short of vulgar clothing with her own hands, wearing heavy makeup, and suspecting her husband of infidelity…
It hadn’t taken long from the time Freya began to act ‘proactively’ according to Mathilde’s advice until Mathilde started calling her ‘Madam Freya.’
Perhaps because of that bygone time, Mathilde still could not acknowledge Freya’s change. Freya smiled faintly and said to Mathilde:
“Ah, yes, the dress. I was about to mention it anyway. You advised me that it was good to dress vulgarly, Mathilde. But it seems Max, at least, does not like that style.”
“Freya, you’re speaking strangely. When did I ever tell you to dress vulgarly?”
Right, she hadn’t said the word ‘vulgar’ directly. She had only emphasized how much men were beings influenced by their sense of sight, and how beloved women ‘actively utilized’ their chests, waists, or whatever lay below.
Mathilde held her forehead and sighed pointedly.
“Why don’t you tell Max yourself? Who do you think Max will believe?”
“Yes, that would be good, too.”
Mathilde’s face flushed with agitation at the overly composed response.
“Let’s take this opportunity to tell my husband everything that has happened between you and me, and just pretend we don’t exist to each other. From now on, you shall live your life, and I shall live mine.”
It was a clear declaration that put an end to the inverted hierarchical relationship that had lasted for five years—a request for no further interference.
“I believe I have said all I needed to, so I will take my leave.”
Watching Mathilde, who was red in the face and even trembling, Freya stood up.
“You, you… Freya!”
Leaving behind the sharp call of Mathilde, who stared at her in utter bewilderment, Freya exited the room.
She should have done this sooner. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t made such a simple choice.
A sense of relief and bitterness lingered on Freya’s face for a moment, but it soon vanished. Freya began her walk toward the study.
✦ ✦ ✦
It was a rare occurrence for his mother to come all the way to his office.
“Max, I’m sorry to bother you when you must be busy.”
“It’s fine. Please, speak.”
Max rose from his desk and moved to the sitting area.
“…I haven’t said anything until now, but I have no choice but to speak up.”
As if Max’s permission were a signal, tears streamed down Mathilde’s eyes.
“I always told you that I was getting along well with Freya, but the truth is, that is not the case. I only wished for Freya to be at ease, but it seems that only served to make Freya uncomfortable.”
Yesterday, Freya had accepted a divorce, and today, his mother, who had never uttered a single complaint, came to him in tears, confessing a rift with her daughter-in-law. Max chuckled inwardly. Perhaps his runaway father would return tomorrow, too?
“She was agonizing over how to approach you, so I gave her a few pieces of advice. But I don’t know how she took it, because after that, she stopped listening to me entirely… I tried to be patient, but I am exhausted now.”
Mathilde wiped the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief while looking at her son. Thinking of the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of that insolent girl, the feeling of indignity welled up, and tears came naturally without any need for acting.
From the start, the Duchess was far from enough for her son.
If only for the fact that she did not possess that noble ‘Blue Blood.’ With one of the finest appearances in the Empire, the ability to transform a steel mill—left behind as a pile of debt by her father when he fled—into a goose that laid golden eggs in just five years, and she had even gone on to carry the name of Max Russell, once hailed as a hero of the revolution.
Was it not whispered that the reason the Princess entered the Imperial Boarding School was to see Max Russell?
Had she not been a Duchess, a future where the Russell family formed a tie with the Imperial family might not have been an impossibility. Even so, out of lingering affection, she had tolerated the Duchess until now, only for the result to be treatment like this.
Does she think I can’t speak if I’m told to? Mathilde gritted her teeth inwardly and opened her mouth.
“In my opinion, it seems that child has truly developed a problem with her mental state.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Think about it. Since she married you, hasn’t she been changing more and more?”
Mathilde listed her daughter-in-law’s flaws before her son, feigning pure concern.
“She approaches you in a disgraceful manner dressed like a woman from the streets, and she suspects you of infidelity… I was worried, and eventually, that incident occurred last year.”
At the mention of ‘that incident’ from last year, Max’s expression darkened visibly. Mathilde cheered inwardly, while her face took on an even darker shade.
“Leaving that child as she is doesn’t seem to be the best method—not for our sake, nor for hers. Even if she is from a Ducal Family, they could not oppose committing a mad wife, especially when it isn’t even a divorce.”
Of course, she couldn’t completely ignore the public eye, so Mathilde narrowed her eyes to hide her true intentions.
“Max, how about you commit her for just one month and see how her condition goes?”