Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 102

### Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale

**Chapter 102: Obtaining The Marriage Contract**

In a world governed by logic, the midwife who had nurtured Tessa from her earliest days should have been celebrated as a benefactor. Yet, the chilling reality that Raul and Joshua had resorted to murder to silence her left Margaery in a whirlpool of confusion and dread.

Amber, her brow furrowed with concern, replied, “I truly don’t know, My Lady. They were in the courtyard, and I was unable to enter. All I could do was watch from a distance, and then I heard a woman’s scream pierce the air. Moments later, the Young Master emerged, and I suspect it was indeed the midwife.”

A shiver ran down Margaery’s spine at the thought of what could have compelled Raul to take such a drastic step against the very woman who had cared for Tessa.

“What about Sunbeam Court? Did they react in any way?” Margaery pressed, her voice trembling slightly with anxiety.

Amber’s eyes glistened with tears as she spoke, “Halle went over early this morning. When she finally came out, her face was radiant, suggesting good news. This likely means Tessa’s blood has intertwined with that of Lord Chancellor.”

‘But if that is true, why would Joshua feel the need to kill the midwife?’ Margaery pondered, a knot tightening in her stomach. She was convinced that whatever the midwife had revealed that night was something Raul desperately wanted to keep hidden.

Yet, the specifics eluded her grasp.

“Enough of this for now. Let’s try to get some sleep. Regardless of what awaits us, they will undoubtedly come searching for us at dawn,” Margaery said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She resolved to put her thoughts aside for the night, believing that clarity would come in time.

“I’m scared…” Amber’s voice trembled, refusing to return to her own bed.

Margaery shifted closer, inviting her, “Come, sleep by my side.”

“Thank you, Lady Margaery.” Amber sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she climbed onto the bed, her small frame still reminiscent of childhood innocence.

That night, Margaery was haunted by another nightmare, a shadowy specter of her fears.

Yet, when she awoke, the details had slipped away like grains of sand, leaving only a lingering sense of unease.

After enjoying breakfast prepared by Adam, she found herself lost in thought, anxiously anticipating the arrival of other members of the Wallen family. Would they finally reveal that she was not their biological child? Would they cast her out from the Chancellor’s estate?

To her surprise, Raul himself appeared at her door early in the morning, a pot of steaming chicken soup in his hands.

“Margaery, you seem drained of energy and vitality. I had the kitchen prepare some chicken soup for you, infused with nourishing herbs. Please eat it while it’s still warm,” he urged, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

He ladled out a generous portion and brought it to her, his eyes filled with an unsettling mix of concern and something else—an appraisal, perhaps.

Margaery stared at the soup, her mind swirling with questions. Finally, she managed to utter a quiet, “Thank you.”

‘How did it come to this? Could it be that my blood has merged with Lord Chancellor’s during that strange ritual last night?

‘No, that can’t be right. If Tessa had bribed the midwife, Mr. Whitney, and Halle, she would never allow me to remain in the Chancellor’s estate.

‘The only explanation is that he wants to keep me close, to leverage the resources I represent!

‘This is a predicament.

‘If Lord Chancellor truly believes this, severing ties will be an even greater challenge. As long as the Chancellor’s estate clings to me, my freedom will remain elusive.

‘Unless I can find a way to provoke them into open conflict… Or perhaps I could petition the King for an edict, but such a pretext is incredibly hard to engineer.’

As these thoughts spiraled in her mind, Margaery’s expression darkened.

Raul, noticing her pallor, couldn’t help but inquire, “Margaery, is the chicken soup not to your liking? You don’t seem very pleased.”

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