Chapter 5

Pamela stayed in a convent until she was twenty.

She finished her convent life and became a great lady that her mother, Rachel always talked about.

As soon as she got home, she jumped into the marriage trade.

All to keep her virginity from the godfather who lusted for Pamela.

Her mother picked the ‘best candidate’ among the men and quickly married her off.

Of course, the decision on ‘best candidate’ was not at all in line with Pamela’s opinion. For her mother, the ‘best candidate’ was where she could make the most profits by selling her daughter.

“Pamela, my daughter. I have chosen the family you’re going to marry.”

Ominous feeling always followed with every gentle stroke her mother gave.

It was the same affectionate stroke as when I first met the godfather and when I entered the convent.

“My dear daughter.”

Her love was always distorted.

“Mother, I haven’t…”

“You’re going to be Baron Orrin’s wife…”

“…pardon?”

Once married, she could get out of her godfather’s grasp, but that didn’t mean she could marry anybody.

“Mother! He’s, uh, old…”

“He’s seventy this year. You will be his third mistress.”

That evening, Pamela cried and clung to her mother, pleading her to cancel the marriage.

Pamela, who always followed her mother’s wishes, was adamant to defy her words this time.

However, her mother scolded her daughter, saying,

“Don’t you know how much honor it is for a commoner to become a Baroness?”

But to be the Baron’s mistress and be married to an elderly man over seventy…

I would rather marry an ignorant man who stinks!

However, there was no way that her mother’s will would be broken.

Eventually, Pamela entered the baron’s house three days later, similar to a cow being taken to a slaughterhouse.

A simple wedding was held.

“So, you’re Pamela.”

Her husband’s appearance was much older and more unappealing than she imagined.

His hair was white, his hands were full of wrinkles, and his face was filled with age spots.

“Ba-baron Orrin…”

“Come here.”

Baron Orrin, sitting on the bed, motioned her to sit next to him.

As her body got closer, the Baron’s acrid smell engulfed her sense of smell.

Unable to frown, Pamela forced a smile. She had no choice but to move helplessly. Holding her hands, he began to stroke Pamela’s forearm, touching her shoulders and back and gradually lowering his hands.

“You’re pretty. Very pretty.”

“Ba-baron.”

“Shh, good girl, yes. Good girl.”

That night, Pamela cried all night.

Next to her husband, who was asleep as she wept silently.

Pamela tried to be nice. Even though she was pointed out, cursed, and ignored by many people, she tried her best.

She wanted to be nice, to be recognized, and to be treated a little more like a human.

But why?

As she greeted the morning sun with swollen eyes, Pamela thought. She’d quit being nice