Sold As A Slave, Returned To Be Queen - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Maisie's letter brought a rare flicker of warmth to Charlotte's face.
She had finally found the medicine needed to help nurse Rosalie back to health. The letter mentioned that someone had already been arranged to deliver it to her discreetly.
Back then, saving Maisie had been little more than a passing act of kindness—something she and her master had done without a second thought. She never imagined Maisie would one day repay that favor so generously, expecting nothing in return.
People really were strange. Strangers could place complete trust in one another, even bare their hearts.
Yet those you'd lived with day after day, called family, could turn their backs on you in the blink of an eye.
Charlotte paused for a moment, lost in thought. Then she gave a faint, bitter smile and burned the letter over the candle flame, watching carefully to ensure no trace was left behind.
The next morning, she packed her things and returned to Rainmere Hall.
Rosalie did everything she could to persuade her to stay, but Charlotte insisted on moving back.
It wasn't that she didn't cherish Rosalie's care—she did. But she couldn't lean on her forever, not when Rosalie's own position in the household was becoming precarious.
The Hastings family might be a quagmire, but even in a swamp, she had to carve out a path for herself—and for Rosalie.
Rainmere Hall was rundown, yes, but it had its advantages.
There were fewer servants around. Gracie, her maid, was notoriously lazy, which actually made things easier—Charlotte could go about her business without too many prying eyes. The people around Rosalie were loyal, but there were things she wasn't ready for them to know just yet.
Besides, if Rosalie's courtyard were truly secure, the poisoning never would've happened in the first place.
The moment Charlotte stepped back into her room, Gracie slammed a coffee cup down on the table with a loud clack, as if Charlotte had just personally ruined her life.
Gracie was furious. Just when she thought she'd gotten rid of the miserable Charlotte and could finally enjoy a few peaceful days, Charlotte had the nerve to come back.
Serving a disgraced girl like Charlotte was humiliating. Out in the household, Gracie could hardly lift her head—she was terrified of becoming the laughingstock of the other maids.
"If I may speak freely," Gracie huffed, "Lady Charlotte, you really don't know how good you've got it. Since Lady Rosalie dotes on you, why not just stay in her courtyard? Why come back here and make life harder for me?"
"If you don't want to stay," Charlotte replied coolly, "go talk to Lady Valeria. I'm sure she won't stop you."
Her icy tone only made Gracie more resentful.
'As if it were that easy,' Gracie thought. Valeria had personally chosen her for this assignment—she wasn't going to change her mind just because Gracie complained.
"Easy for you to say," Gracie muttered bitterly. "You probably don't understand what it's like to be a servant. Not everyone gets lucky enough to be lifted up like you have—getting to speak in front of Lady Valeria."
It was a blatant jab—an attempt to drag Charlotte down to her level. In Gracie's eyes, she was nothing more than a servant dressed up as a noble lady, just a step away from disgrace.
Charlotte didn't rise to the bait. She knew Gracie would be a problem sooner or later. But given her current position in the Hastings family, if she went to Valeria to request a new maid, it would only make her look ungrateful and troublesome.
Besides, there was no guarantee the replacement would be any better.
So she said nothing. Instead, she kept her gaze downcast, her posture meek—playing the weak, quiet mistress. Gracie, emboldened, threw out a few more barbed remarks to let off steam before finally stalking out of the room with a sense of petty victory.
Charlotte let out a quiet, scornful laugh.
She'd seen plenty of people like Gracie in the palace—snakes who bowed to the powerful and trampled the weak. Gutless sycophants, all of them.
For now, Gracie's antics were harmless—just sharp words and passive-aggressive gestures. But it was only a matter of time before ambition and greed pushed her into something far more dangerous.
Charlotte's strategy was simple: let Gracie's ambition grow, water it with her own quiet submission—then wait patiently for the right moment to strike.
The only shame was, she wouldn't be able to use Gracie to gather any useful gossip about the party anymore.
Although Charlotte found it suspicious that Brielle and Valeria were suddenly so eager to bring her to the party, the truth was, she was deaf and blind in this household now—cut off from any meaningful information. She had no choice but to take things as they came.
Moments later, she let out a quiet breath and couldn't help but find it all a little ironic.
The Hastings family—once her home—had become a place where even dealing with a lowly maid required careful maneuvering and strategy.
How ridiculous.
If anyone in this family still had a shred of care for her, would it really have come to this?
Nightfall.
Inside the brightly lit study of the Hastings family, Edward sat stiffly, his face serious. Despite his composed appearance, there was a trace of urgency in his voice as he looked at Valeria.
Despite his composed appearance, there was a trace of urgency in his voice as he looked at Valeria.
"How confident are you in this plan?"
The Marquis' household had made it clear they favored Brielle and looked down on Charlotte. Yet even with their obvious stance, they still hadn't formally requested to break the engagement. That hesitation made Edward—eager to cement ties with the Marquis' household—restless.
"They haven't made the first move because they're still trying to save face," Valeria replied with a sigh. "If they were the ones to propose breaking it off, it would make them look dishonorable. But if Charlotte brings it up herself at the party, it gives them a clean way out. No shame, no scandal."
Edward nodded slowly. "Not a bad idea. It's only her reputation at stake, and frankly, that's a price she owes us. Just make sure she never finds out what we're doing. With that temper of hers, there's no way she'd go along with it if she knew."
He seemed noticeably more at ease now, clearly pleased with the strategy. But the moment Charlotte's name came up, he let out a cold snort, as if the very thought of her was irritating.
"She's always been headstrong, always talking back to her elders—completely unmanageable."
Valeria dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes with a silk handkerchief. "It really is a shame. You were too harsh with her that day. Brielle still feels awful—she blames herself for getting sick and letting Charlotte take the punishment in her place." Whether those tears were truly for Charlotte's impending humiliation or for her beloved daughter Brielle, no one could say.
Edward's face shifted slightly, his tone softening just a touch. He knew now that he'd misjudged Charlotte. "But she refused to speak up for herself. If she won't defend her own name, how can she blame others for misunderstanding her? And in the end, it was a minor issue—not worth tarnishing Brielle's reputation over. It was the servants who went too far. Just send her some good medicine and call it settled."
Valeria smiled faintly and nodded, sensing Edward was relenting. In her eyes, there was no real grudge between father and daughter.
If Edward had softened, then it was only natural that Charlotte should fall in line.
What neither of them realized was that Charlotte's wounds had long since healed. All that remained were jagged scars—twisting across her pale skin like deep cracks in fine silk. They were ugly, raw, and unmistakably cruel. The sight of them made Valeria instinctively avert her gaze, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.
"Lady Valeria," Charlotte said lightly, slipping her robe back over her shoulder, "the wounds have long since healed. I'll have to politely decline your kind offer."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes held a quiet, mocking glint. She looked straight at Valeria, composed and almost amused. Valeria froze, caught off guard. Her hands twitched slightly, and her eyes turned red in an instant.
"Charlotte… your father, he—he has a sharp tongue, but a soft heart. That day… he only acted that way because he was trying to protect your reputation. He lost his temper. The servants didn't know when to stop. He's regretted it ever since. That's why he asked me to bring you the medicine…"