Chapter 6: A Name of My Own

"There’s no shortage of talented young women, and there are precedents for granting honorary titles and houses. In my opinion, Savannah saved Jackson’s life. This request isn’t overstepping."

His words were measured, diplomatic. He made it sound reasonable, even generous.

Is the judge being kind?

Of course not—

There was calculation in his eyes, a sharpness beneath the surface. He was playing his own game.

During those two years I lived with Jackson in the fishing town, a man and a woman alone—who couldn’t guess what happened?

Rumors had swirled, of course. In a small town, nothing stays secret for long. The judge was just making sure the story ended on his terms.

He was only paving the way for his daughter.

Charlotte Avery—poised, perfect, untouchable. The judge wanted her future secured, no matter who got hurt along the way.

The heir should only have one official wife.

That was the rule, the unspoken law of families like theirs. I was just a complication to be managed.

Jackson reached out, offering his arm.

He offered his arm, a gesture of respect. The room watched, reading meaning into every movement.

"Judge, why bother?" His tone softened, but was still cold and distant.

He sounded tired, as if the whole thing bored him. But I saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hand tightened on the keychain.

"But what if I insist on refusing?"

The challenge hung in the air, daring anyone to contradict him. For a moment, I thought he might actually say no.

The word "refuse" came slowly from Jackson, like a stone dropped off a cliff, cold and sharp.

The impact was immediate. The room shifted, people glancing at each other, uncertain.

But even so, he’d just returned to the city.

His power was new, fragile. The old alliances hadn’t settled yet. Everyone was watching, waiting to see which way the wind would blow.

The family’s power was still mostly loyal to the judge.

Old loyalties die hard. The judge’s word still carried weight.

And the judge held his ground.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. He met Jackson’s gaze, unafraid.

"If you do this, you’ll lose the people’s trust."

It was both a warning and a threat. The judge knew how to play to the crowd.

With that, a group of family council members in the hall knelt down with a thud.

The sound echoed, startling in the silence. One by one, others followed, a show of unity—or maybe just fear.

"Mr. Bennett, please reconsider..."

Their voices were pleading, desperate. I wondered if any of them actually cared about me, or if I was just a pawn in their game.

Jackson’s face was tight and cold.

He looked at them, eyes hard. For a moment, I thought he might snap, but he just stared, memorizing each face.

I wondered what he was thinking—who he trusted, who he’d remember later.

In the end, he said nothing.

The silence was final, absolute. He turned on his heel, walking away without a word.

The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving only the hush of the hall behind.

In my previous life, it was the city councilman who jumped in.

This time, it was the judge.

But what never changed was the tense, scheming atmosphere.

No matter how many times I go through it, I feel utterly exhausted.

It was always the same—power, politics, and people willing to use anyone as a bargaining chip. I just wanted out.

Leaving the main hall, the housekeeper supported my arm.

Her grip was gentle, but firm. She led me down the hallway, away from the prying eyes and whispered conversations.

"Oh honey, what happened today? This is the first time I’ve heard Mr. Bennett talk to the judge like that."

Her voice was soft, concerned. She’d seen more than she let on, I realized.

Like what?

I glanced at her, unsure what to say. She shook her head, lips pressed tight.

She spoke in a low voice.

She leaned in, almost whispering. "He’s always been so respectful to his mentor."

I don’t understand the judge.

His motives were a mystery to me. I only knew what I’d seen—his ambition, his careful words.

But I know Jackson.

Or at least, I thought I did. The boy from the fishing town felt very far away now.

He’s full of ambition. The night before we returned to the city, he told me who he really was.

He’d sat with me by the fire, eyes shining with dreams. I’d listened, half in awe, half afraid.

Then, holding my hand, he talked about his dreams for the future.

His grip was warm, reassuring. He made it sound so easy—like we could take on the world together.

"Clean up the family mess, make peace with our rivals, win back what’s been lost."

He spoke with conviction, every word carefully chosen. I believed him, then.

Someone like that could never be happy being controlled by the judge.

He was born to lead, not follow. I knew that now.

Of course.

The realization settled over me, heavy and inevitable.

Power and intrigue have nothing to do with me.

It was a relief, in a way. I didn’t want any part of it.

What I want is simple.

A quiet life, far from all this.

To live.

Just to survive, to find a place where I could breathe again.

As long as I can live, that’s enough.

I repeated it to myself, like a prayer. Safety first, always.

For that, I need to stay far away from these people.

Distance was the only thing that made sense anymore.

But things rarely go the way you want.

Life has a way of dragging you back in, no matter how hard you try to escape.

I had nowhere to stay in the city, so I still lived in the Bennett estate.

It was supposed to be temporary, but days turned into weeks. I kept my head down, trying not to draw attention.

When the housekeeper and I were heading to the back of the guest house, someone suddenly called out to me.

The voice was unfamiliar, but commanding. I froze, heart pounding.

"Miss Lee."

I turned to look.

The judge stood there, his presence filling the space. He looked tired, but his eyes were sharp.

It was the judge.

His hair and beard were graying, his back a little hunched. If not for the crisp black robe he wore, he could’ve passed for any old man on the street.

He seemed almost out of place, a relic from another era. But the way people moved around him—always deferential—said otherwise.

"I never expected Miss Lee would have the courage to make such a request to Jackson."

His tone was mild, but there was a challenge in his eyes. He was testing me, I realized.

I didn’t know how to respond.

So I only bowed and said nothing.

Sometimes, silence is the best answer. I kept my gaze low, waiting for him to continue.

The judge smiled.

It was a small, private smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.

He took a step forward, lowering his voice.

His words were meant for me alone. I felt the weight of them settle on my shoulders.

"As long as you don’t want anything more, the honorary title—I can get it for you..."

He made it sound like a favor, but I knew better. Nothing came free in this world.

"If you’re still hoping for a good husband—"

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. I braced myself for what came next.

"Most of the best young men in the city are my former students."

His smile was sly, as if he was offering me the keys to the kingdom. I felt a chill run down my spine.

He smiled faintly, his tone relaxed, as if sure I wouldn’t refuse such tempting conditions.

But I remembered my previous life.

That cup of poisoned wine brought by Charlotte’s maid.

The memory was vivid, the taste of betrayal still fresh. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to show fear.

The poison was sharp, burning my throat as it went down.

I’d trusted the wrong people before. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

To say the judge knew nothing of what his daughter did—

I don’t believe it.

He was too careful, too calculating. Nothing happened in his world without his say-so.

But—

At least at this moment, we’re on the same side.

For now, our interests aligned. That was all that mattered.

I lowered my head, my tone flat.

"Don’t worry, sir. I know my place. There are things Savannah Lee can’t reach for."

It was the truth, and also a lie. I’d learned to keep my dreams small, my hopes hidden.

Whether the judge is a good man, I don’t know.

But he must be a good father.

He fought for his daughter, moved mountains for her future. In a way, I envied that kind of devotion.

For the next three days, he led his people to the Bennett estate to file petitions every day.

The halls were crowded with men in suits, paperwork piling up on every desk. The tension was a living thing, crackling in the air.

Finally, he secured the proclamation for me.

A single sheet of paper, stamped and signed. It felt both momentous and strangely anticlimactic.

[The common woman Savannah Lee, with a gentle heart and fine character.]

The words were simple, almost clinical. But they meant freedom, of a sort.

[Bestow the honorary title of Lady Channing, and grant a house.]

It was more than I’d dared hope for. A place of my own, a name that meant safety.

Very short, just a few words.

But those words changed everything. I clutched the paper, barely daring to believe it was real.

There was no Bennett surname, but I didn’t care about that anyway.

Names were just names. I’d learned that the hard way.

I knelt there.

The tile was cold, but I didn’t mind. I felt lighter than I had in years.

Finally, I let out a long breath.

Relief washed over me, sweet and sharp. I’d made it out—this time, at least.

At last, at last.

The words echoed in my mind, a quiet celebration.

I don’t have to walk back into that dead end of family strife from my previous life.

I was free, or as close to it as I’d ever been.

The head butler who came to announce the news saw me dazed, and even stepped forward to help me up.

His hand was warm, steadying. He smiled, a genuine kindness in his eyes.

"This is a great day. From now on, when you see Mr. Bennett, you’ll call him Big Brother."

The words felt strange, but right. I nodded, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders.

Big Brother.

Those two words rolled off my tongue.

They tasted bittersweet, like the memory of something lost and found again. I smiled, just a little, letting myself hope for the first time in a long while.

Funny, isn’t it?

Life never goes the way you expect. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get a second chance—and this time, you take it on your own terms.