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Chapter 54
That vile woman.
Edgar swallowed a curse that nearly escaped.
Tennis was a sport that valued dignity and honor. A scandal of this magnitude would undoubtedly result in the loss of her eligibility to compete. Likely forever.
A precarious tension filled the air. Not even a breath was heard. Everyone stood in uneasy anticipation, waiting to see who would break the silence.
Who would open Pandora’s box?
Edgar and Irene’s gazes met. Onlookers gulped in suspense.
Would it be the Marquess of Lancelot, or the Princess, who opened the door?
The air was taut, so thick with tension it felt suffocating just to watch.
Suddenly—Bang!—the door swung open from inside. Instantly, necks craned forward like curious turtles.
“You’re late, Princess. After calling for me.”
“……”
The one who emerged from Pandora’s box was none other than Duke Johann Leopold.
Johann sat beside the bed, quietly watching Olivia as she slept.
“We’ve secured Miss Blanchet,” his sparrow informant had reported.
Kidnapped? Ridiculous.
Since the Count Blanchet incident, Johann had authorized emergency intervention in high-risk situations involving surveillance subjects.
As a result, instead of being in Room 3016, Olivia was now lying in his private suite’s bed.
As if kidnapping the woman who was once his wife weren’t enough, the perpetrator had tried to ruin the opening party of the Leopold Hotel. And his reputation along with it.
How dare they.
Johann tugged off his tie, loosened it completely, and reached for a chair.
As the dawn broke softly, pale blue morning light bathed the sleeping face of his wife.
She was beautiful.
That was probably why he’d been able to marry a complete stranger in the first place. Because she was beautiful.
Was she the target?
His quiet gaze slowly swept over her face.
For what reason?
Before their divorce, he had never once looked at his sleeping wife like this.
It felt strange.
Johann slowly reached out.
How much had this beautiful face cried? How terribly had it been broken?
Diane Brooke.
All those incomprehensible actions had always traced back to that damn woman.
The thought of her again dragged Johann’s mood back into the mire. He clenched and unclenched his fists, then lowered his hand.
His long fingers gently tucked strands of her dark brown hair behind her ear.
Olivia wrinkled her nose. Her long lashes quivered and then began to stir.
She was dreaming.
A dream of when she had truly been herself.
She lay alone in a cold room, waiting for her mother to come home.
Sunlight filtered through the lattice paper doors, shifting from clear to golden to crimson, and finally to black—but her mother never returned.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
Cold. Hungry. Afraid.
As soon as the fear crept in, the darkness took shape—like a black glove reaching out to smother her.
Olivia bolted upright with a sharp scream. Her breath came in gasps. Cold sweat ran down her body.
“You’re safe.”
A voice rang in her ears. Low, calm, and grounding. Her racing heartbeat began to slow.
“It’s alright now, Olivia.”
It wasn’t a hallucination. The gentle, soothing tone was oddly familiar, yet foreign.
Olivia turned her head toward the sound.
Her head spun. Still groggy, her vision blurred.
She rubbed her eyes with one hand. Things remained foggy. After blinking a few times, her vision finally focused.
The vague silhouette before her gained clarity.
“!”
She froze.
She had been kidnapped.
So why was he here?
“Don’t tell me—you?”
“No.”
It felt unreal, but it was no dream. Every nerve in her body was attuned to this man’s presence.
His scent, his warmth, his breath, his voice.
…This wasn’t a dream.
Most of all, when her eyes met his ash-gray gaze, her desperate hope that this was all a dream shattered instantly.
Johann Leopold. Her husband.
She would rather faint again.
“Then why—why are you here?”
“Good question.”
She shrank back, bumping into the bed’s headboard, and flinched.
Johann, who had bent forward to fix her hair, straightened up.
“I should be the one asking. What the hell have you been up to?”
His icy blue eyes roamed over her, as if appraising her for the first time.
Feeling exposed, Olivia yanked the blanket up to her chin, her face flushing with embarrassment.
A strange reaction, considering they had shared a bed for three years.
“Was it you?” she asked sharply.
He found the fire in her eyes rather appealing.
It was better than the shattered, glassy gaze she once had. Still, her wary stare—like he was a stranger—wasn’t exactly welcome.
“No.”
Meaning he hadn’t kidnapped her or undressed her.
Even so, the woman who was once his wife still looked at him with distrust.
“Then who did?” she pressed.
“We’re investigating.”
His calm answer came as he loosened the collar of his shirt.
She was distracted for a moment by how bright his golden hair was—perhaps that’s why her eyes lingered on him longer than necessary.
“Where are we?”
“My hotel.”
“……”
Johann remained unbothered.
Olivia, however, felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath her. Her heart pounded erratically. Another shocking revelation.
Hotel?
She dreaded tomorrow morning’s headlines. The only silver lining was that she hadn’t walked in here on her own two feet.
“I need to go,” she said, throwing off the blanket like a lifeline.
Summer night air blew in through the open window.
The white curtains fluttered, and her sheer gown swayed as she sat up on the bed. Johann’s gaze lazily followed the movement.
“Stay.”
He gently pushed her shoulder down to keep her seated.
Her trembling eyes looked up at him. Seeing himself reflected so completely in her gaze gave him a strange satisfaction.
“Just stay.”
“No.”
Her rejection was firm and immediate. Her eyes, clear as the sea, now held a winter chill.
That stare was so unfamiliar, so cold, it felt like she was a stranger.
“I have to go.”
You’re the one who used to beg me to stay. ‘Don’t go, Johann. Just stay the night.’
Now it was Johann Leopold clinging. Pathetically.
“…There are reporters everywhere.”
He sounded pathetic, making up such an excuse.
“Stay,” he repeated.
His smooth voice had weight, and his manner was commanding and prickly.
The mention of reporters made Olivia freeze just as she was about to get out of bed.
She had always been sensitive to the press. Her fierce momentum diminished at the thought of a scandal.
She could already imagine the headlines.
Not just a secret rendezvous with her ex-husband’s rival—now she had spent the night with the ex-husband himself, while his fiancée was in the building.
Olivia’s face twisted in distress. The thought alone was sickening.
“I’ll use the back door.”
“They’re there too.”
She bit her lip.
Of course. Only a fool would use the front door.
She wanted to run, but the hour was too discreet—perfect for the wrong kind of imagination to run wild.
An uncomfortable silence fell. In the pale pre-dawn light, he still stared at her.
There was no force in his gaze, yet it felt suffocating.
“…Anne must be worried.”
She averted her eyes and finally broke the silence.
She felt a pang of guilt toward this body’s true owner. But it was lucky that he had been a negligent husband.
Otherwise, he would’ve noticed far too easily that the woman before him wasn’t Olivia Blanchet.
Still, the way his cold gray eyes pinned her made her nervous.
“I’ve sent someone.”
“……”
Olivia looked up at him.
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“…Where I live.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
Edgar had kept her location secret even from the press. How had he found out?
“Don’t tell me—”
“The coachman told me.”
Johann removed his coat and draped it over the edge of the bed as he answered, unfastening the top button of his shirt.
His nonchalant tone made it all sound trivial.
“Ah…”
Her eyes softened slightly.
After all that, she’d treated him like a kidnapper and a pervert.
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
Granted, he had ordered someone to keep an eye on her.
“Why would someone do this?”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
Olivia furrowed her brow.
“Escort her with care.”
The handwriting at the bottom of that note had definitely been his.
So why had the MacDowell family’s coachman had it?
Then she remembered someone she had forgotten.
“Edgar.”
His name slipped from her lips before she could stop it. Their eyes met. His stare was heavy and unreadable.
“……”
Under his dark brows, his steel-colored eyes narrowed.
He stood up.
A shadow fell over Olivia.
She instinctively pulled the blanket up to shield herself.
He approached.
Why…
His presence felt massive, overwhelming. Her heart began to race.
Had she been too careless in imitating Olivia Blanchet?
As he stopped right in front of her, her mind went completely blank.
And then, the next moment, Johann bent over and reached out his hand.
Olivia held her breath—unconsciously.
