If Love Comes, You Happen to Love Me

After my younger brother was recognized as the rightful heir, I was brought into the estate alongside him.

The news spread quickly, and the noble ladies of London couldn't stop gossiping.

"She's nothing but a poor, low-born girl—how dare she associate with the heir!"

"Taking advantage of his position, how utterly shameless!"

"Does she really think someone like her can hold her own among the elite?"

Before I could respond, Simon stepped forward, unwavering. "She was, is, and always will be my sister!"

Instantly, the noblewomen's expressions changed.

The Duke of Rynham's banquet was in full swing. When Simon and I arrived together, we immediately attracted many glances.

Some were curious, while others were filled with disdain and contempt.

"She's nothing but a poor girl—how dare she associate with the heir!"

"Taking advantage of his position, how utterly shameless!"

"Does she really think someone like her can hold her own among the elite?"

The murmurs reached my ears loud enough to cause me to pause. I lifted my head and looked toward the source.

The speakers were noble ladies, their disdain barely concealed as their eyes fixed upon me.

I frowned slightly, but before I could say anything, a clear, steady voice rang out beside me, cutting through the air. "She was, is, and always will be my sister!"

It was Simon.

His declaration made the noblewomen's faces shift instantly.

I lowered my eyes, my thoughts drifting back to a month ago.

At that time, Simon and I were still the children of a minor official from a small town on the kingdom's outskirts. But shortly after our arrival in London, we encountered a servant whose attire was far too refined for his status.

At first, we paid him no mind. But after scrutinizing Simon carefully, the man suddenly knelt and cried out, "My lord! At last, I have found you!"

Simon and I were bewildered, and the servant began to recount the entire story.

It turned out that years ago, while the Duchess of Avon accompanied the Duke on their escape, she gave birth to a son and entrusted him to a peasant woman. However, upon their return to find the woman and child, both had vanished. The only clues were a distinct birthmark and a jade pendant.

By some remarkable twist of fate, Simon bore the same rabbit-shaped birthmark on his arm, and the jade pendant he carried matched the description of the lost heir's.

With these two signs, Simon's status as the Duke's heir was solidly established.

And I, Simon's sister, suddenly became a guest of honor in the Duke's household.

But the truth was, Simon wasn't the real heir.

I had watched him grow up beside me—I knew he couldn't be the lost son.

"Eliza?" Simon's soft voice pulled me back from my thoughts.

I looked up, meeting his worried eyes, and shook my head gently. "I'm fine."

Only then did he relax, letting out a quiet sigh.

We were attending this banquet today to make our presence known and to show everyone that Simon Sheppard was now the Duke of Avon's heir.

After the banquet concluded, Simon and I boarded the carriage back to the estate.

Inside, the facade Simon had maintained in public fell away, and his voice was filled with uncertainty. "Eliza, is what we're doing really the right thing?"

At just fifteen, Simon was still a boy—his wide, dark eyes stared at me, full of dependence and doubt.

His question made me pause, my fingers still on my lap. I turned slightly to face him. "Simon, don't you want to avenge our father?"

His gaze faltered, and after a long moment, he whispered, "But we're usurping someone else's position… What if the real heir returns?"

"There is no 'what if,'" I interrupted firmly. "We've spent this past month going to every court in the city, seeking justice for Father. And what's the result?"

A month ago, our father came to London to present his case, but he was never seen again. Simon had heard whispers in the streets—Father, known for his integrity, had offended someone powerful and was imprisoned on false charges. Not long after, he died in his cell.

Mother passed away when we were still young, and Father, a man of modest means, raised us with nothing but honesty and hard work. We grew up with barely enough, but now he's gone—condemned, framed, and dead for no reason.

Simon and I arrived in London, dressed far less richly than the city folk, with no money to our names. We endured endless sneers and contempt. When we sought an audience at the High Court, we were beaten with rods and thrown out, the guards telling us to drop the matter if we wanted to live.

That was when we learned that Father had truly offended someone powerful—a man beyond our reach.

Perhaps word of our presence had spread because after we left the courthouse, soldiers surrounded us, armed with sketches of our faces. They accused us of stealing from the royal treasury and tried to arrest us.

We stood there in the middle of the crowded street, dressed in nothing but thin, ragged clothes, with no place to hide anything, yet the crowd simply watched, indifferent, some even criticizing our appearance.

The soldiers seized us, determined to drag us away, not even giving us a chance to explain ourselves.

It was then that the old servant appeared.

He declared Simon to be the Duke's heir and ordered the soldiers to release us.

The irony of it—it took just one word from a servant, a man of lower station than us, and they let us go.

After that, we were taken to the Duke of Avon's estate and given rooms in the finest part of the house, surrounded by servants. We now lived lives of luxury, all because of Simon's assumed identity.

"...I understand." Perhaps recalling everything we had been through, Simon's resolve faltered. Even the most righteous boy could bend under such weight. His gaze fell, voice quiet, "Eliza, what do we do now?"

I studied the boy sitting across from me. His spirit dampened. My fingers tightened slightly. "First, we find out who framed our father."

From the moment we were beaten, insulted, and falsely accused, I swore to myself:

Honor, integrity, justice—what good were these things if I couldn't protect my family? If I couldn't even protect myself?

In a world where life was as fleeting as a gust of wind, justice belonged to those in power. If I couldn't grasp it from below, I would climb until I could take it for myself.