EID 21

21. Ambush

“I heard from Madame Loren. That necklace…”

Anblin’s voice trembled as much as her amber eyes.

Before she could finish her hesitantly spoken words, a knock came at the door, and the secretary entered carrying tea. A brief silence fell between them. As soon as the secretary left, Anblin asked,

“What’s your relationship with that woman?”

“In business, trust is everything. I clearly misjudged you.”

“Why is Anne Gilbert’s necklace with that woman? You said you lent it to her.”

Her trembling voice began to choke with emotion.

“Is this your way of punishing me? Making me a laughingstock by comparing me to that lowly bastard-born woman?”

To preserve her last shred of dignity, the princess bit her lip instead of crying.

Edgar watched, unaffected, as if observing a poorly performed play. The only regret he had after watching this same act for three years was that he was its sole audience.

If there were an award for playing the victim while being the offender, this woman would win it hands down. Edgar could bet his entire fortune on that. Unfortunately, there were no takers.

He smirked briefly before erasing the smile from his lips.

“You were the one who asked for the breakup.”

As he stared coldly at Anblin, her face turned pale.

“I’m not obligated to report my private life to the princess.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, his gaze now calm and relaxed. A soft smile returned to his face. He had explained enough for anyone to understand.

“Don’t you think so, Anne?”

Hearing her name spoken so gently, Anblin’s tears finally fell.

“…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ed.”

Her broken sobs soon became full-on weeping.

“Please… forgive me!”

The line—asking for forgiveness—was the dullest ending imaginable to this farcical play.

How creative. And shameless.

Edgar stood up.

“Well then, take care.”

He offered a perfectly polite bow to the princess of a nation and left the office without hesitation. Right now, his mind was completely preoccupied with the train bound for Nountin.

Was Olivia Blanchet on that train? That was his greatest concern.

The weather was awful.

Even the iconic Ritten Clock Tower, visible from anywhere in the city, was hidden in thick fog.

Any leisurely desire to enjoy Ritten’s beauty one last time had long been abandoned.

Now, all they could hope for was that the carriage would reach the station on time. It was moving so slowly, it might as well have been crawling on icy roads.

“Do you think we’ll make it?”

Anne looked at Olivia with concern in her eyes.

Olivia pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. It was a parting gift from Elaine.

12:15.

It was cutting it close, but if the carriage moved now, they still had time.

“If we miss it, we can take the next train. Or leave tomorrow.”

She calmly spoke, stroking the vine pattern on the closed watch.

‘Edgar. Be careful of that man.’

Olivia had asked what that meant. It was over dinner with Elaine the night before, during their goodbye.

‘Because he’s the princess’s man. You said you were planning to stay here. It’s best not to get involved.’

Elaine had also apologized for not warning Olivia about the necklace earlier.

She said Madame Loren had stopped her just as she was about to speak. She’d also warned Olivia to be wary of that woman. Now that she thought about it, she remembered the conversation clearly.

Edgar Langster Lancelot and Madame Loren. That woman was the designer recommended by Madame Marie.

And the maid was…

Her thoughts spiraled with questions when the coachman opened the side window and shouted,

“Looks like there’s been an accident ahead. We’ll be stuck for at least an hour!”

Olivia and Anne quickly paid the fare and got out, deciding to walk to Ritten Station. Fortunately, they arrived five minutes before the train’s scheduled departure. But due to bad weather, all trains were delayed.

Ritten Central Station was packed with people because of the delays.

They bought tickets for the 1 o’clock train to Nountin and sat on a bench in the waiting area.

Olivia, feeling nervous under the glances of strangers, pulled the brim of her bonnet down to hide her face.

Newsstands, people’s hands, and even the waiting room walls were plastered with that humiliating photo.

“Like mother, like daughter. She’s a real seductress.”

“Guess only dukes are good enough for her. Always aiming high.”

Olivia sighed softly. At least her face wasn’t clearly shown—one small relief in this mess.

Let’s go outside, Anne.

Yes, my lady.

With a glance, the two quietly slipped out of the station.

The platform air was damp and heavy. Though it was midday, the lamplight wrapped in fog felt dull and eerie.

People stood waiting for the train. From here and there, you could hear complaints and swearing from those who had grown tired of waiting.

The scandal that had rocked high society had, at least here, become nothing more than a piece of dirty gossip trampled underfoot. Olivia was thankful for that.

She and Anne placed their trunk beneath a lamp in a quiet corner and sat on it to wait for the train.

Two hours passed before the sound of a train whistle echoed in the distance.

The crowd stirred and buzzed with excitement.

The Nountin-bound train arrived just before five o’clock.

Cutting through the grey city, the slow train finally pulled into the platform.

People surged forward like waves. Amid the crowd, Olivia and Anne searched for the number on their tickets.

“Here. This is it, Anne.”

Olivia called out as Anne headed down the steps, raising her hand to wave.

She checked the ticket and carriage number once more before opening the train door.

As she grabbed Anne’s outstretched arm to board, a shadow loomed over Olivia’s head. At the same time, a strange male voice sounded behind her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Olivia froze with one foot on the step, then slowly turned.

Under a black silk top hat, a thick pair of white eyebrows twitched. Deep-set, shadowed eyes of the elderly man burned with a cold, bottomless rage.

“You ungrateful wench!”

Thunderous shouting erupted from the frail figure.

Dragged to the Lancelot Hotel by the arm, Olivia was overwhelmed by the unexpected confrontation.

“How dare you? You don’t even know gratitude!”

A bony hand flew toward Olivia’s face. She instinctively raised her arm, but couldn’t withstand the blow’s force. A loud slap rang out. Her ears buzzed.

‘How dare you, in this house…’

The voice felt younger, a faint echo from the past. Olivia remembered the moment she first met her blood relative at age six, when she arrived at the Blanchet family.

Her grandfather, the Count of Blanchet.

Olivia staggered with dizziness as the realization hit.

How did I end up here…?

The answer was shockingly simple. The scandal from the Rose Ball.

“You dared to divorce the duke without even a word!”

Once again, the old man’s harsh hand rose. Anne, who had been frozen in place, jumped in to shield Olivia, taking the hit and stumbling into a table.

A newspaper fell to the floor—one with that shameful photo.

“You filthy thing!”

The Count struck Olivia’s cheek again and again, his ragged breath wheezing with fury.

“Of all things to inherit from your mother… you had to inherit this!?”

Furious and dissatisfied, he raised his cane.

Elena Blanchet.

The Lily of Rondos. The jewel of the Blanchet family.

She was beautiful, beloved, and admired by all.

When she smiled, everyone felt joy. Wherever she appeared, light followed, and darkness vanished.

Everyone expected her to become the crown princess. It was as natural as spring following winter.

Until she fell in love with her best friend’s husband, Elena’s world was perfect.

“I was humiliated—we were disgraced because of you! You threw away your title for what?!”

The Count would never forget that day.

Johan Leopold.

That boy had become a duke thanks to him.

He should’ve been grateful. He should’ve bowed in thanks.

But instead, Johan looked at him with such contempt—like he was scum.

He didn’t expect a warm welcome after the divorce, but he hadn’t expected this kind of humiliation either.

“I thought you had already recovered the price of selling your daughter.”

“Son-in-law—”

“Count. Use the correct title.”

Remembering his private meeting with Johan, the Count slammed his cane in fury.

“No, stop! Please, sir—!”

Trembling with fear, Anne once again blocked the Count’s path. Olivia, who had stood dazed, locked eyes with Anne—her lips bleeding from the blow.

That snapped her out of it.

“Enough! …Please leave.”

Olivia spoke coldly.

The tip of the Count’s cane trembled with rage.

“I’m an adult now. I’ll make my own decisions from now on.”

Her resolute gaze met his as she spoke clearly and firmly.

“I believe the favor of raising me has been fully repaid through the money you received from the duke’s household.”

“You arrogant brat. You think all I did for you amounts to that? Taking in someone like you, a disgrace to the family! Do you know what your presence has done to the Blanchet name?”

The Count scoffed.

The fog outside had now turned to blackened darkness. No one had lit the lamps, and the Count’s voice echoed eerily in the dim room.

“This isn’t over.”

“I know you received plenty of help. And every time your business failed, it was because of Uncle—”

Olivia’s head snapped to the side violently.

Darkness swallowed her sight.