EID 27

It was impossible not to feel excited. Though she was still under the same Litton sky, just stepping out of the hotel made Olivia feel as if a new chapter of her life was about to begin. Her heart raced at that small change.

The station where she waited for the carriage to Riverside 3rd Street was quiet, as if the last one had just left with its passengers.

Should she wait thirty more minutes or flag down a passing private carriage? As Olivia weighed her options, her eyes caught a newspaper stand beside a streetlamp.

[Duke Johann Edinburgh Leopold Engaged to Princess Tanesia Irene Kranz]

“No way!”

Her eyes widened at the unbelievable headline.

Her gaze, transfixed on the front-page article, slowly drifted down to the large photo below it.

The woman wearing a tiara was a beautiful lady with delicate features. And beside her was a photo of Johann Leopold.

Olivia’s mind went blank for a moment.

Marriage?

Of course, Johann Leopold would get married. To Clara Saint. That was how it was supposed to be. This woman—Princess Kranz—wasn’t supposed to be the bride.

“It means anyone else could’ve done it.”

Clasping her trembling hands tightly, Olivia felt chills crawl down her spine.

The world she was trapped in insisted with a cruel will that a villainess must exist to make the heroine, Clara, shine.

For that, the role of Johann’s wife—who tormented Clara—was critical. And it didn’t have to be Olivia Blanchett.

The station quickly filled with people gathering to catch the next carriage. The noise buzzed in Olivia’s ears like a swarm of bees. Her head spun.

“Are you all right… Miss?”

Anne, who had been looking out for the incoming carriage, was alarmed to see Olivia turn ghostly pale and hurried over. Following Olivia’s gaze, Anne covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

Miss…

Anne looked at Olivia, her expression full of concern. Her pale, bloodless face looked pitiful.

Though Olivia was shaken for entirely different reasons, Anne had no way of knowing. To her, it seemed the young lady was crumbling at the news of her beloved husband’s engagement.

After all, she had loved him so deeply.

To the Duke, it had been a trivial affection—but to the young lady, it had been everything, the very thing that kept her going. No matter how painful or cruel that love was, it wouldn’t disappear just because a signature had been written on paper.

“Shall we rest for a bit somewhere? What about over there?”

Anne pointed to a coffee house across the street.

“…No need. I’m all right.”

Olivia managed to lift the corners of her lips.

Just then, the carriage arrived. As the doors opened, the crowd surged forward. Olivia was swept in as if by a wave.

The carriage departed, and the newspaper stand disappeared from view. But in Olivia’s mind, the image of the smiling Princess Kranz under the spring sun remained vivid and sharp.

***

No. This can’t be.

“Duke Johann Edinburgh Leopold, Suddenly Engaged to Princess Kranz”

It was unthinkable.

Diane’s eyes, icy and cold, were glued to the photo in the morning paper. Her hands, clutching the pages, trembled violently. She felt a deep sense of betrayal by the sudden, unforeseen news.

Was this all just to benefit someone else?

As if in agreement, every article gushed with joy and excitement. Reporters praised the Duke for finally choosing a duchess worthy of his noble bloodline.

Irene de Kranz.

A princess of a sovereign nation—noble beyond comparison to Olivia Blanchett. She was a direct threat to Diane’s desire to become the Duchess, a rival who crushed that hope with her very existence. She left Diane without even the will to fight.

Diane bit down hard on her lip.

She had stayed at Greythill under the pretense of cleaning up the mess left by the former duchess—but really, she’d needed time. Time to win Johann’s heart.

Even a month after the divorce, bills and orders kept arriving, and someone had to handle them.

She should’ve had a child. By any means necessary.

If the grand duchess entered as the new lady of the house, Diane would have no reason to remain. Princess Tanesia had her own secretaries and aides. A former duchess’s secretary would have no place.

“Damn it!”

Diane stood abruptly and flung the newspaper onto the table. Her angry footsteps paced around the window.

A surge of rage she couldn’t suppress rose within her.

All that effort—everything she had done to get rid of Olivia Blanchett…

Her temples throbbed.

“Damn it! This is driving me mad!”

Instead of screaming, Diane grabbed a vase from the sideboard and hurled it onto the wool carpet. The glass shattered, scattering sharp fragments that glinted in the morning sun.

Now that all her efforts had gone to waste, she needed something equivalent to the Duchess’s position.

Without it, she couldn’t back down.

Quick to switch gears, she walked over to the vanity and opened the top drawer. Inside a green velvet box with gold trim lay a glittering amethyst key adorned with a lily motif.

She couldn’t just walk away quietly.

Glaring down at the golden key, Diane bit her lower lip until blood darkened her crimson lips.

Greythill had originally been built in the architectural style of a foreign land to comfort a young queen, stricken with homesickness after marrying into another country.

The king, in his love, had filled one large room with jewels. The key that opened that treasure room was the Lily Key.

Though the jewels were moved to Rondos Palace after the queen’s death, Olivia Leopold, the new Duchess after eighty years, had once again filled the room with gems.

That, too, had been Diane’s scheme. But unaware of the truth, the world mocked Olivia as a tasteless, vulgar duchess who flaunted wealth she didn’t deserve.

Stupid Olivia.

A vain, shallow woman who didn’t even know what she had become—Olivia leaned more and more on Diane as things worsened.

Which made it laughably easy to manipulate her like a puppet.

The Lily Key was originally under the control of the mistress of the house. Diane had framed Olivia’s maid to get it.

She had secretly hidden a pink diamond necklace—one of the late duchess’s keepsakes—in the maid’s room. Using that incident as an excuse for negligence, Diane had the key turned over to her.

It was as if Johann had left a cat in charge of the fish.

Diane closed the box and returned it to its place, pushing the drawer shut. Then she summoned a maid to clean up the broken vase and went about her day as if nothing had happened—waiting for nightfall.

When it was fully dark and even the light in Johann’s bedroom had gone out, Diane quietly left the study.

Without lighting her lamp, she passed through the long corridor and stopped in front of the archive room, opposite the Duchess’s bedroom on the second floor. Guided only by moonlight, she slipped the key into the lock. A soft click, and the door opened.

She carefully pushed open the heavy door just enough to slip through.

Inside the pitch-black room, she fumbled and set the lamp on a shelf, then struck a match.

Even the tiny flame made the space dazzle with brilliance. She swallowed dryly.

Jewels collected by Johann’s mother, the Duchess of Edinburgh. The tiaras gifted by the queen upon marriage. Rare collections from auctions and jewelers.

Diane had spent the last three years gazing at these treasures, dreaming of the day they’d be hers.

“Think of it as payment for my service, Johann.”

One by one, the glittering jewels disappeared into the bag she’d brought. The bag grew heavy in no time. The room fell back into darkness, and Diane slipped out as silently as she had entered.

A carriage she’d discreetly arranged during the day waited in the shadows beyond the back wall.

“Longbourne Street.”

The carriage sped down a narrow hill and turned onto a misty riverside path, following the winding river for some time.

Though many bridges crossed the river, they chose the one at the very end.

After crossing, the carriage entered a narrow, shadowy alleyway—one of the city’s poorest slums, filled with cramped, sun-starved buildings.

When they arrived, the carriage stopped. Diane stepped down, her hood pulled low over her hat.

She scanned the area before knocking. At the third knock, a faint light appeared behind the door. It creaked open.

“Who the hell— Oh! Miss Brooke!”

Diane glared and spoke in a low voice.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

The man opened the door wider and stepped aside. Diane entered. He closed the door and drew the blinds.

“How have you been?”

He scratched his sideburns and shuffled toward her. Diane said nothing and threw the bag onto the table.

“Brought something fancy, have you?”

He opened the leather bag. A shrill whistle echoed through the silent room. He winked at Diane.

“Two days. I want them done.”

“You rush me, I’ll only churn out junk.”

“There are 80 more pieces. I’ll be gone in two weeks.”

“And my cut?”

“We’ll see after the jewels are sold.”

“Sixty-forty.”

“Are you insane?”

“Insane enough to kill someone. Isn’t that right, Miss?”

The man grinned, flashing yellowed teeth. Diane held back her disgust and sighed.

“Eighty-twenty. Don’t push your luck. No matter how much you like money, it’s not worth your life.”

Diane pulled a small pistol from her handbag and pointed it straight at him.