Rebirth Of The Duke's Daughter

Chapter 2

It had been four months since Mila was born, and in that time, she had no visitors. Her mother, preoccupied with trying to win her father's favor in hopes of becoming his main wife, had little interest in her. 'How annoying,' Mila thought, frustrated by the neglect. Her mother refused to nurse her, leaving Mila to be fed by wet nurses hired, surprisingly, by her father. 'Why must I nurse from them? I'm a grown woman, for heaven's sake!' Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of frustration and helplessness as she longed to grow up quickly and escape this infantile state.

Sara, a young woman assigned to care for her daily, was the one who looked after Mila the most. From her limited perspective as a baby, Mila observed Sara's diligent care. Despite her young age, Sara was kind and attentive, though Mila couldn't help but feel trapped in her current situation. Determined to change it, Mila forced herself to sit up, knowing full well that an infant shouldn't be able to do so this early. 'I hate being a baby,' she grumbled inwardly, her small body straining with the effort of trying to sit up in her crib. The effort left her exhausted, but she was resolute. 'I need to get out of this crib,' she thought, the confinement driving her to desperation.

Grabbing the rails of the crib, she pulled herself up, her tiny arms wobbling under the strain. Her balance was precarious, and she nearly toppled over, her weight threatening to send her crashing to the floor. As the ground rushed up to meet her, she thought with a sense of resignation, 'Am I going to die so early?' She braced herself for the impact, but instead of hitting the floor, she felt herself caught in a pair of strong arms.

"You are foolish for trying to get yourself killed," a voice scolded her.

Startled, Mila opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a boy who bore a striking resemblance to their father. As her mind raced, she realized that the only person who looked so similar to their father was her oldest brother, Leo. Cradled in Leo's arms, Mila blinked up at him, noticing his well-dressed uniform, the mark of his status. Despite his stern expression, Mila smiled at him, trying to win his favor. 'I have to get Leo on my side too,' she thought, feeling a small bead of sweat form on her forehead from the effort.

"You're a strange little one," Leo remarked, his gaze appraising her. "You have silky violet hair, but you've inherited the Noble family's dark cyan eyes." Mila, unable to speak, let out a small yell—not out of anger, but as if she were trying to lecture him, as if to say, 'You're the strange one!' Leo raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "Strange," he muttered under his breath.

Just then, the door to the room creaked open. In an instant, Leo gently placed Mila back into the crib and quickly hid in a nearby closet, leaving Mila alone once more.

Mila's tiny heart quickened as the doors to the nursery swung open, revealing her mother, Lady Sydney, with Sara trailing dutifully behind. "Hmph! Not a single visit from him!" Lady Sydney's voice was sharp and frustrated. "I gave birth to his child, yet he doesn't even acknowledge me or give me a place of importance in the Noble household!"

Mila watched her mother closely, already sensing the bitterness and scheming nature that seemed to fuel her every word. She couldn't help but wonder how she had even been born to such a woman. The realization filled her with a deep, unsettling fear for her future.

'You're just a maid in his eyes,' Mila thought, her infant mind clear despite her young age. 'Father is a busy man; he would never visit you or think of you seriously.'

Sara, ever the peacemaker, tried to soothe Lady Sydney's anger. "Lady Sydney, the Duke is a very busy man. He has to attend to matters at the palace frequently. He's one of the four dukes who serve the emperor, and his responsibilities are immense."

But Lady Sydney's expression only darkened. "Things would have been different if it weren't for this child. If only she were a boy..." The words stung, though Mila had expected them. Now, she understood why her mother harbored such resentment toward her. It wasn't just neglect—it was outright hostility. Mila's small eyes locked onto her mother's face, but there was no warmth there, only a cold calculation that chilled her to the bone.