NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8 - Heir? Illegitimate child?
My name is Miguel Pezzalot.
I’m the eldest son of the Pezzalot Ducal family, one of the three major ducal families in this country.
Even though I’m called the eldest son, I’m what they call a “bastard son”.
Being called a “child of a mistress” puts me in a somewhat tricky position.
That’s because I’m not the biological son of the Duke of Pezzalot.
I don’t know what my biological father looks like.
He passed away before I was born.
I’ve heard that he died in an accident while I was still in my mother’s womb.
My biological father was a count, and he apparently married my mother, who was about a decade younger, after taking a fancy to her while serving as a diplomat in another country.
Incidentally, my mother also hailed from a noble family, albeit from another country, so there was no opposition to the marriage.
Three years after their marriage, my biological father met an untimely death.
The succession to the count’s title went to his younger brother, my uncle.
He became the head of the family.
While my mother was pregnant, they knew that the child might not necessarily be a boy.
If it had been a girl, she wouldn’t have been able to inherit the title.
It was only natural for the count’s family to bring forth my uncle for the sake of the family’s survival.
To put it bluntly, my mother is the daughter of a noble from another country.
It was a bit unfortunate that she didn’t have any relatives in this country who could provide support.
No one in this country reached out to my mother, who became a widow in her early twenties.
Not even the noble Count’s family.
My uncle inherited the title and left my mother to fend for herself.
It seems he wanted to pretend that I didn’t exist.
Although he had already taken over the title, the situation could potentially lead to a succession dispute if the former Countess bore a male heir.
My timid uncle probably wished for my mother to pass away while still pregnant.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to kick a noblewoman out of the estate with nothing but the clothes on her back.
A mother born and raised as a noblewoman, who married into nobility, should not have been cast out of the estate and forced to live on her own.
Desperate and wandering the streets, my mother was rescued by the Duke of Pezzalot.
The Duke and my biological father were close friends and had a close relationship as families.
Out of pity for the plight of his deceased friend’s wife, the Duke welcomed my mother into the Pezzalot family as a “concubine.”
My mother lived in a villa in the ducal domain and soon after, I was born.
The son of a concubine.
The illegitimate child of the former Count.
The Duke acknowledged me as his “biological son” knowing full well the circumstances.
Of course, despite being recognized as such on paper, there were various constraints since I was not his biological child.
As the son of the Count, I grew up as the Duke’s son.
Perhaps if I had resembled my biological father even slightly, things might have been different, but unfortunately, I took after my mother.
Black hair, black eyes.
Exotic features.
Because of this, many mistake me for the Duke’s legitimate son.
Even on official documents, I am listed as his “biological son,” which only fuels the misconception.
The Duke never corrects this, and the Count’s family, who know the truth, remain silent under the Duke’s influence.
While it could be interpreted as a measure to help his friend’s wife and child, I believe my stepfather does so because he genuinely loves my mother.
Indeed, my stepfather avoids talking about my biological father.
“It’s still painful to talk about my late friend.”
“Just give it a little more time…”
My mother understands this and never speaks of my biological father in front of him.
She only talks about him when it’s just the two of us.
“Miguel, your name was actually chosen by your father. He said if a boy were born, the name Miguel would be perfect.”
It seems she named me without mentioning my biological father’s name so as not to upset my stepfather.
“He was looking forward to your birth.”
I still vividly remember my mother’s gentle smile as she spoke, looking as happy as a young girl.
Even though she became the Duke’s concubine, her love for my biological father must have always been paramount.
That kind of smile, she would never show it in front of my stepfather.
Only in front of me.
I’m grateful. Grateful to the benefactor who helped us, mother and child. But…
Until her dying day, my mother never loved the Duke as a man.
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