Chapter 122
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 122
The narrative across the papers was much the same.
They claimed she was exploiting the Convent under the guise of charity, deceiving the public by posing as a model, and that the Imperial Family itself had fallen victim to a young woman’s audacious fraud. They even went so far as to question the integrity of Saint Clarissa’s products.
"These people… they have no shame!"
As I read, my blood began to boil.
"The journalists who wrote this didn't even bother to check the facts; they just printed the interview as if it were gospel! Everyone knows Saint Clarissa’s products are beyond reproach!"
"Can’t you tell from the tone? This is a deliberate smear campaign," Roxana said. "Unfortunately, people tend to swallow slander whole, simply because it’s printed in a newspaper."
Even those who claimed to be neutral would now view her with suspicion. Even if the articles were eventually proven false, Saint Clarissa would undoubtedly suffer a devastating blow.
Harriet carelessly unfurled the last newspaper, expecting more of the same. But this one contained a detail the other two had missed.
「…Rumors suggest that Harriet Listerwell is squandering her ill-gotten wealth on debauchery, including attendance at scandalous gatherings. At these so-called 'Angelic Parties,' she is said to consort with various men, spending vast sums of money as if it were water…」
Harriet’s eyes snapped wide.
It was Tez Roark.
No one knew she had attended the Angelic Party except for Cedric and Tez. Since it was impossible for Cedric to have leaked such a story, Tez was clearly the culprit—or at the very least, an accomplice.
Was all his kindness just a prelude to my ruin?
The thought was so absurd she actually let out a hollow laugh. She felt ridiculous for ever thinking he might not be a bad person. How naive, how foolish she had been!
She had told herself she didn't trust him, but the bitterness rising in her throat proved she must have harbored a shred of hope. She must have hoped that someone from her past would finally apologize and try to make amends.
As Harriet buried her face in her hands, Roxana approached quietly and gave her shoulder an awkward pat.
"Don't look so defeated. The world hasn't ended yet. You can sue them; legally, you're in the right."
"...Teacher. You’re truly terrible at comforting people."
At that, Roxana gave Harriet’s shoulder a sharp slap before crossing her arms.
"If you have the energy to talk back, you aren't that far gone. Come. Let’s go see Lady Fellon."
Harriet let out a small, weary laugh and stood up.
She was right; this was no time to be disheartened. This was a time for anger. It was time to grit her teeth and fight back with everything she had.
*
When they entered the Countess’s bedroom, Trisha was sitting in an armchair, sipping warm tea. She glanced at Harriet and gestured with her chin toward the seat opposite her.
Harriet sat down in silence.
"You look gloomy," Trisha noted. "Like someone who’s been blindsided."
Harriet didn't know how to respond. She mumbled something incoherent and gave a weak, forced laugh.
Trisha took another sip of tea before speaking quietly.
"Did you not know the world was like this?"
"I knew. But it still hurts. If you weren't here, Grandmother, I’d probably have been dragged to the square and stoned by now."
Trisha let out a dry chuckle at the dark joke.
"No. Even without me, you would have been fine. You’re stronger than you think. Hiring a skilled lawyer and suing irresponsible newspapers is something you’re perfectly capable of doing on your own, isn't it?"
She spoke as if the incident were trivial, but her expression remained unreadable, suggesting deeper concerns.
"Still, it’s true that you’ve been particularly unlucky lately. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault."
She paused, picked up a small pouch from the tea table, and handed it to Harriet.
"I’m sorry I remembered it so late, but I’m returning this to you now."
"What… is this?"
Harriet looked at Trisha, who merely offered a benevolent smile. Harriet carefully opened the pouch. Inside the worn, aged leather was a single smooth, round pebble.
She shook the pouch to see if there was anything else, but the pebble was all it contained.
"Grandmother? What is this stone?"
"It seems you don’t remember at all."
Trisha let out a long sigh, her face tinged with regret. She then recounted the story of a young Harriet who, wishing for Oster’s recovery and Trisha’s good fortune, had given her a 'Lucky Pebble' as a gift.
"At the time, I accepted it because of your pure heart. Perhaps I even hoped Oster would recover, clinging to a child’s luck."
"I had completely forgotten…"
"I had forgotten as well. But then I read your letter from the Convent and remembered the stone. Thinking back, it doesn't seem to have been entirely without effect."
"Pardon?"
Harriet looked at her as if she were joking, but Trisha’s expression was dead serious.
"After I received that stone, I became the Head of the Fellon Family. Every business I touched yielded a fortune, and I gained people I could trust. And conversely, for you… a string of misfortunes followed, didn't they?"
"That’s just a coincidence."
"Is it? I can’t forget you telling me, 'I’ll give you all my luck.' If I truly took and used your luck, how could I ever repay that debt?"
"Grandmother…"
Trisha’s gaze remained fixed on the pebble, her eyes troubled.
"Harriet. I’m returning your luck. Thank you for everything."
"Don't say that! I’ve been lucky enough. If I weren't lucky, how could I have received your guardianship? How could I have succeeded in business without experience, or inherited land I didn't even know existed?"
Harriet forced back her tears and managed a strained smile. Trisha looked as if her end were drawing near, and Harriet wanted to beg her not to speak with such finality.
"So please, Grandmother, keep the stone. If lending you my luck helps you regain even a fraction of your health, I wouldn't regret it for a second."
"Harriet…"
"Grandmother… you are my benefactor and my parent. Please don't make me an orphan again."
Harriet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, tucked the pebble back into the pouch, and pressed it into Trisha’s hand.
She wasn't afraid of the people who ignored the truth to cheer for a scandal. All those masses held less weight than the single elderly woman sitting before her.
"What I feared when I read the papers today wasn't the public's judgment. It was the possibility that you might be disappointed in me…"
At those words, Trisha gestured for her to come closer.
Harriet knelt before her. Trisha gently caressed her grand-niece’s cheek with a withered hand that was little more than skin and bone.
"Harriet. I am not disappointed in you."
"I’ll keep trying. I’ll never disappoint you, Grandmother."
"No. From the moment I first saw you in the drawing room ten months ago, I’ve considered you my daughter. And I have learned this through experience: a parent cannot be disappointed in their child."
She wiped Harriet’s damp eyes once more and slowly stroked her dark brown hair.
"Thank you for giving me such a wonderful experience, Harriet."
Harriet could no longer hold back her sobs. She leaned into Trisha’s knees, weeping, while Trisha gently patted her hands with a warm smile.
Once Harriet managed to compose herself, Trisha firmly grasped her hands and pulled her closer. Her voice was now resolute.
"Now that you’ve had your cry, it’s time to do what needs to be done. The articles in today’s papers will cause public condemnation to skyrocket. But the bigger problem is that Saint Clarissa’s sales will plummet."
Harriet’s tear-filled eyes slowly regained their focus.
"You know well that a drop in sales will paralyze the Convent’s operations, don't you? We must resolve this as quickly as possible. You would do well on your own, of course, but with my help—and the help of others—things will proceed much faster."
When Harriet hesitated, Trisha spoke firmly once more.
"Look clearly at what is important. This is no time to be ashamed of asking for help."
"Yes, Grandmother."
Harriet nodded, then gritted her teeth.
"Since I’m accepting help, I might as well escalate things. I’ll make sure they never even dream of trampling over me again."