The deepened gray eyes fixed on Olivia.
She seemed like someone who had carved that day out of her memory entirely.
Otherwise, wouldn’t it have made more sense to search for the person who had pushed her into the lake, rather than demanding a divorce?
“Why the lakeside?”
Olivia asked with a puzzled expression.
“No. It’s nothing.”
Yohan spoke softly, looking at the woman whose face no longer felt unfamiliar.
“There’s more. Keep eating.”
He refilled her empty glass, pushing away stray thoughts.
There was no need to force himself to recall a memory that could only bring pain. The knock on the door came just then.
Startled, Olivia stood up with a jolt, the perch meat still in her mouth.
“It’s okay. Sit.”
Yohan reached out and gently pulled Olivia’s wrist.
When he gave the command to enter, the door opened.
“It’s been a while, my lady— Ah, I apologize. Miss Blanchet.”
It was Morris. He held a neatly folded maid’s uniform in one hand and shoes in the other.
“Oh. It’s been a while.”
Olivia easily recognized the man from her memory.
She had once even been jealous of Morris, the man who shadowed Yohan like his own shadow.
She greeted him with an awkward smile.
Morris bent over and whispered discreetly into Yohan’s ear.
“The princess has departed.”
His whisper was just loud enough to carry across the table. Olivia stood up quickly.
“Give me the clothes.”
“After you finish eating—”
“I’ve had enough.”
Feeling sorry, Morris looked at Yohan.
At Yohan’s small nod, Morris handed the change of clothes to Olivia.
“Take her out through the back.”
Yohan, now standing, buttoned his black jacket as he gave the order.
“What? Why not the front—?”
But in the split second that Yohan’s cold eyes met his, Morris immediately shut his mouth.
Why was he angry? They weren’t even a married couple anymore—did they fight?
Why was he catching the backlash? And why the back door, when there were no reporters around?
Questions flooded Morris’s head, but he knew better than to ask. Orders were orders.
Feeling like an unwelcome intruder, Morris quietly left the bedroom.
“What about you?”
Olivia asked, looking up at Yohan, who stood motionless.
“Aren’t you going out?”
Even if she changed in the dressing room, wouldn’t he still hear?
The sound of fabric slipping from her body…
It bothered her that the man outside the door might be listening to such sounds.
“Please leave.”
Olivia said firmly.
Despite everything he’d already seen.
She recalled herself lying seductively on the bed, not a thread of clothing on her.
And now, she was treating him like a stranger. It was ridiculous.
Just as ridiculous as how his body now reacted when it hadn’t back then.
“Young miss!”
Anne flung herself into Olivia’s arms.
As soon as she heard the sound of the carriage stopping in front of the quiet red brick mansion, Anne had run out to greet her.
Her face flushed red, Anne burst into tears, soaking the front of her white blouse.
“Anne.”
Olivia gently patted her back for a long time, until Anne’s sobs faded into the golden sunlight.
By dusk, Edgar arrived.
“Are you okay?”
He looked noticeably gaunt after just one day. His sunken eyes looked exhausted.
“You’re not hurt?”
His voice was low, incredibly gentle.
“Fortunately, no.”
Olivia smiled faintly.
‘To personally escort her with care.’ Why had she assumed that meant him?
She looked across at the man and felt ashamed.
She had been so foolishly happy.
To think that she, abandoned even by her birth mother, had become someone important to anyone.
But of course…
You confuse people too much.
Olivia felt humiliated by her own assumption. And hurt.
“I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
Edgar’s voice was tight.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
The conversation ended again, even with a teacup between them. Silence fell. Night had completely fallen outside the dark window.
Olivia’s gaze dropped. Her tea was going cold.
‘To personally escort her with care.’
The elegant handwriting kept floating in front of her eyes. So the princess was that important to you.
Why did that thought hurt so much?
Why did it make her so upset?
She didn’t even have a reason to feel hurt.
Olivia’s eyes wavered with confusion, as if losing balance.
Was it because of Yohan?
Edgar, watching her in silence, came to that conclusion. It was Yohan.
That one night, the only night he hadn’t gotten a report from Marie, gnawed at him unbearably.
What had happened?
What had they said?
The eyes that fled from him like a criminal’s were not welcome.
He had devoted so much to her, to make her look only at him. So she should look at him, Olivia.
“You should move residences.”
At last, her gaze met Edgar’s.
Yes. Like this. Look at me.
Her fluttering lashes asked where.
“Stay at a hotel.”
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her refusal was immediate and unwavering.
“Why not?”
Edgar’s expression twisted slightly.
Because of Yohan?
They had been married for three years, shared a bed. Why did that fact irritate him so much now?
Edgar furrowed his brows.
“Your opponent wants you to quit this competition. They’ll continue endangering you like this. Olivia.”
Of course, he had already planned to bind her hand and foot before that could happen. But regardless, she needed a little fear right now.
After a pause, Olivia finally spoke.
“If they’re the kind of person to do this… then it won’t matter where I am. And also…”
She bit her lip.
“Staying at a hotel would only provoke her more. I think staying here quietly is better. If the princess isn’t a fool, she’ll stay quiet for a while.”
“If you’re scared… if you dislike it—”
His voice was low, resonating through her chest. Edgar’s eyes were deep and calm.
How much of this man’s kindness was real?
There was once a man who was kind to everyone.
The upperclassman she had once loved—his kindness had been so universal it left no room for confusion.
But this man…
He was kind only to her.
Olivia looked into his bluish-gray eyes.
His kindness was unreadable. But it held concern for her.
He must’ve looked at the princess like that, too.
You’re confusing, Edgar.
Even if she said she had fallen for this man now, it wouldn’t be strange at all.
That’s how misleading Edgar’s demeanor was.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Olivia.”
The way he called her name so easily shook her again.
All his light words, his gaze, his actions—he was a man who made everything seem too easy.
Pushing away that hollow feeling, Olivia spoke clearly.
“I’m not so weak that I’ll cause you worry.”
She smiled brightly.
It was a clear, quiet voice—too gentle to carry the cold meaning that she didn’t need him.
That bold voice lit a flame deep within Edgar’s core.
A clear rejection.
Only two people had ever rejected Edgar like that: his father, and now Olivia Blanchet.
Yohan had just signed off on the reservation rate for the Leopold Hotel and the plans for the upcoming Dumblin Championship’s eve gala four days away.
As soon as the general manager left with the documents, Morris entered.
“The ship is fully prepared for departure.”
At Yohan’s slight nod, a knock sounded. It was Princess Kranz.
Morris gave a respectful bow and exited. Yohan rose from his seat.
“What brings you here?”
She pointed to the sofa with a graceful hand, her tone cold, like someone drawing a line—this wasn’t a place one could visit without a clear reason.
“That woman… Did she return safely?”
Irenne asked while still standing.
Yohan walked over to his desk and picked up a cigar from a box.
As he lit it and slid one hand casually into his pocket, he asked,
“That’s what you came to ask?”
His voice was low, his gaze condescending.
Because she was concerned.
Irenne couldn’t deny it. She simply stared at the white smoke curling in the air.
If reporters caught wind and it caused a scandal, her name would once again be dragged through the mud alongside that of his former bastard wife.
She didn’t want Christian to see her like that.
“Tell me how far I have to turn a blind eye.”
It wasn’t uncommon for noblemen to keep mistresses. Irenne didn’t want to pick a fight over that.
Though it was extremely regrettable that the woman in question was his ex-wife. She could ignore it.
So long as no one found out.
“If that’s the issue, you should’ve gone to the Princess of Britt, not me.”
It was she who had kidnapped and thrown Olivia into Yohan’s room.
Yet Irenne acted as if she’d caught him doing something shameful.
“As for what happens next, whether you’ll keep seeing her—”
“Princess.”
His voice cut her off.
That quiet, commanding tone made even a noble-born woman shrink back.
“As I’ve said before, and I say again—I haven’t done anything.”
Yohan’s gaze looked down on her from some unreachable height. It made Irenne feel utterly humiliated.
“And in the future… well, we’ll see.”
That aloofness—so far removed from the warmth of Christian—shook her.
She hadn’t expected affection from such a man, but this coldness still stirred something within her.
“If you make me miserable, I won’t stand by and watch.”
“You’re the last person who should say that—getting tangled up with another man while engaged.”
“!”
Irenne de Kranz turned pale, frozen in place.
