Before My Aunt Died, She Asked If I Wanted to Take Her Place. I Scoffed!

Before my aunt died, she wanted me to marry the marquis, who was more than twenty years older than me. "Dear niece, you are the only daughter in the family. You can take my place, and then I can die in peace." She coughed up blood, yet a strange light gleamed in her eyes. The marquis's household was full of guests bearing witness, and they all shed tears, praising the deep bond between the sisters. In my previous life, with no other choice, I swallowed my grievance and married into the marquis's household as his second wife. I spent my merchant mother's entire dowry propping up the crumbling estate and treated my aunt's children as my own. Only when the poisoned wine my stepson handed me burned through my throat did I hear the truth: "You and us are of the same generation."