Chapter 107 : The Ashes Beneath the Snow

❖ Chapter 𝟷𝟶𝟽 ❖

⟡ The Ashes Beneath the Snow ⟡

❝Some truths, when unearthed, scorch more than they soothe.❞

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I couldn’t remain in that dim, dust-laden cabin forever, surrounded by the fragments of a life that was no longer mine to grieve. The truth was, aside from the unexpected marriage certificate bearing the names Max Russell and Candace Russell, the rest of the documents were nothing more than yellowed, brittle research notes. I had no reason to linger.

The thought echoed like a whisper in my mind—why was my mother’s name etched upon a marriage certificate that clearly wasn’t hers? But then again, Candace was not an uncommon name. If I let every odd coincidence consume me, I would never see daylight.

Still… the date beneath the names caught my eye. February 4, 1798.

My father had always said they married in 1797.

‘Too much suspicion, Edith Prim.’ I sighed inwardly and slid the certificate back among the papers. I couldn’t afford to chase ghosts.

Yet the name lingered in my thoughts like a splinter beneath skin. Max Russell. The name had appeared far too often since my arrival in Herzburg.

I stepped out into the crisp air. The old woman waiting near the porch lit up with relief at the sight of me.

“Did you find what Candace left behind?” she asked, clasping my hand.

“Yes, thank you. But… have you ever heard of a man named Max Russell?”

Her brows furrowed into a thoughtful knot, lines deepening across her weathered face. “Max Russell…?” she echoed. Then shook her head. “No. I can’t say I have.”

So he wasn’t from here. Whoever he was.

I walked back to the familiar house—my father’s house—where Johannes was staying. The courtyard was strangely still. Porche Max had vanished, as had the old villagers.

I found Johannes standing near the entryway, half-shrouded in thought. His profile was carved from silence.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked. “Why haven’t you gone in?”

He turned to me, eyes dark with the weight of things unsaid. “I just… needed to think.”

“…Still thinking about divorcing me?” I asked quietly.

Last night, I had told him—no, pleaded with him—that I wouldn’t accept divorce. He’d offered me nothing in return. Just that faint, unreadable smile.

My heart tightened.

I reached for his hand, led him into the house, and leaned against the doorframe, searching his face.

“I made myself clear. But you still look torn.”

He didn’t speak.

“You always act like you’re hiding something,” I whispered. “Like there’s a truth so enormous you think I’d break if I saw it.”

His silence was answer enough.

“There’s something,” I said. “You can’t tell me yet, is that it?”

He nodded.

“Why? Is it dangerous to know?”

Another silence.

“Then how long were you planning to keep it from me?”

Still no reply. I clenched my fists.

“I’ve hidden things from you too,” I said. “But if this is about me—don’t I deserve to know?”

His voice came low, steady: “Nothing good comes from learning what you’re not ready to know.”

“So I’m not ready?” I snapped.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you meant it.”

His calm—his infuriating, perfect calm—made the truth twist even harder.

“Please, Edith,” he said at last. “Don’t ask questions. Don’t wander around. Stay in the duke’s residence. Just for now.”

It was the way he said ‘just for now’ that set my nerves ablaze.

“…You make it sound like I’m meddling,” I said, my voice rising. “Like I’m just a nuisance in your world.”

Johannes looked down at me, unreadable. And then—without warning—the thought I had shoved away came surging back.

The name. Max Russell.

A memory struck me—the way Johannes had frozen, only slightly, when I had spoken that name before. The stiffness in his jaw. The tension behind his stillness.

It hadn’t seemed strange then. But now…

I stared at him, trembling.

“…You’re afraid I’ll find out who Max Russell really is, aren’t you?”

Still, he said nothing. No laughter. No rebuke. Just that same cold, aching stillness.

Which meant—he wasn’t denying it.

My stomach turned.

“That’s why you wouldn’t let me visit the Marquis’s residence,” I whispered. “You wanted to use me—to present me later to Mrs. Russell, when it suited you. To win her over by revealing that I’m her granddaughter. But if I saw her too early, it would ruin everything.”

“It was like that back then,” he admitted.

My breath caught in my throat.

“You were really planning to hide this… until the end?”

“If I could,” he said simply.

My fists shook.

I laughed bitterly—at him, at myself. “Why am I even surprised?”

The betrayal wasn’t just in what he hid—but in what we had shared. Or thought we’d shared.

I stared at him, my voice barely holding together.

“I told you I loved you.”

His reply came cool, too fast:

“Is that important in this situation?”

The silence that followed rang louder than any scream.

❝The cruelest lie is not the one spoken—but the truth withheld.❞