“Seducing the so called witch and bringing her as a partner to the New Year’s gala.” For Edgar de Grace, dazzlingly handsome, silver tongued, gentle and gentlemanly to all, what bet could be easier? All the more because the target was Angela Faber, the dollmaker nicknamed “witch” who already nursed a quiet crush on him. “Angela, please… Then curse me instead. Slap me, grab me by the collar, shake me, tell me a bastard like me deserves to rot in hell. Just… hate me, if you must…” Being used as a nobleman’s pastime was not what hurt. “How could I possibly resent Your Grace? I was the fool who believed a wooden doll could be alive. I was the one who fluttered over a counterfeit love, not even knowing I had become the stakes of a bet.” Only the betrayal, that the man to whom she gave everything, whom she loved with all her heart, had thrown her aside, hurt as though her heart had been smashed to pieces. “Sob… no, please… The words I love you were not a lie. I am begging you, do not abandon me like this.” Even watching him cry and cling so desperately, she could only suspect that this too was another lie, another deception. “Eddy, from the moment you let me call you that, our ending was already decided.” No matter how much he wept and repented, it was far too late to put back together Angela’s shattered heart and crumbled trust.
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