When I Asked My Husband for a Divorce, He Said He’d Be Bringing Home a Young Woman, So I Left - 3
The Viscount and Viscountess Ecklund had struggled to conceive after their marriage, making Ixel their long-awaited only son.
Eager for him to learn estate management firsthand while they were still healthy, the couple had planned for Ixel to inherit the viscountcy upon turning eighteen and immediately prepare for marriage with his betrothed.
Having long fretted over succession, the viscount and viscountess hoped their son would father an heir as soon as possible.
But just before Ixel’s eighteenth birthday, misfortune struck the Ecklund household.
It began with the Viscount’s accidental death.
Ixel hastily assumed the title, but mourning delayed the wedding by a year.
Before the mourning period ended, Ixel’s mother fell ill and passed away.
The tragedies didn’t stop there.
Though Ixel’s estate management stabilized with some outside help, two unusually heavy rains that year caused devastating floods and landslides, ruining crops and livelihoods while slashing tax revenues.
Ixel postponed the wedding again, working himself to the bone until the land finally began to recover—only for an old friend to introduce him to a man proposing a joint business venture.
Hoping to boost his people’s recovery, Ixel borrowed heavily to fund the venture… only for the man to vanish with the money.
The friend who introduced him also disappeared, leaving behind his own debts.
Ixel couldn’t run.
With nothing but debt remaining after years of delays, his fiancée eventually left him.
He borrowed even more to pay her compensation, insisting it was only proper—even as she and her parents refused at first.
Even selling everything and renouncing his title wouldn’t cover Ecklund’s debts, yet the kingdom’s response was sluggish.
After all, Ecklund wasn’t the only territory needing disaster relief.
Finally, the King himself approached my father with a plea: “Can’t you do something?”
The solution my father proposed to save Ecklund? My marriage to Ixel.
Money can’t be handed out indiscriminately—massive aid requires justification.
Still, I can’t help but grumble. Just because His Majesty and Father are milk brothers doesn’t mean the King can dump this on him, and he can dump it on me!
Had the kingdom stepped in sooner, none of this would’ve happened. Worse, the fraudster who swindled Ixel turned out to be a wanted man—one the authorities had nearly caught for another scam.
Had they arrested him then, Ixel would’ve been spared.
Since childhood, the King has relied on Father when official action is impossible, often leaving our family to shoulder the burden.
But if Father, as head of the house, accepts it, I have no choice but to obey.
Our family holds a middling noble rank as a countship, but my grandmother—the King’s wet nurse—was born into a marquisate two kingdoms over, a house tied to that royal bloodline. Thus, our family is distantly related to their crown.
With thriving lands and trade, our taxes rank among the kingdom’s top five.
But our history is short.
My grandfather, a baron’s third son, founded a merchant house that swiftly rose to prominence, expanding across borders.
Yet lacking strong backing beyond his baronial family, high nobles often swindled him.
Then my grandmother—smitten at first sight—used her marquisate status to aggressively pursue and marry him during his business trip to her homeland.
Grandfather, once a commoner, was granted a barony by her family before returning with her.
Her social prowess transcended borders, and with powerful new allies, their business soared.
Grandfather freely poured their wealth into saving the kingdom during crises, earning a barony here—then rapid promotions until he became a count.
That’s our family.
Meanwhile, grandmother became wet nurse to the second queen’s son, dominating high society alongside her. After twists and turns, that son is now our King—making Father his milk brother.
To old-money nobles, we’re just upstarts, envied and scorned with amusing intensity. Without grandmother, our social standing is… precarious.
Well, money silences them.
And because we have that silencing power (money), His Majesty has no qualms about dumping problems on us.