I will be the perfect wife this time

Chapter 212: A Bold Pretender

Olivia crossed the threshold of her grand drawing room, the rustle of her dark silk gown the only sound in the tense air. She took her seat with an elegant, practiced poise, gesturing for Cedric to take the armchair opposite her. Behind them, fading seamlessly into the dim corners of the room like a gargoyle carved from ice, Matthias took his post. As a masked Imperial Knight, his duty required his silent presence—and his complete, agonizing isolation.

​Cedric settled into his seat, leaning back with a deceptive casualness. His sharp, calculating eyes flickered from Olivia toward the towering, masked guard in the corner before returning to her. A faint, condescending smirk touched his lips.

​"Must this guard follow you even in here, Olivia?" Cedric asked, his tone smooth but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of irritation.

​Olivia met his gaze.

​"He is my assigned knight," she replied, her voice clipping the air with absolute finality. "Therefore, he stays."

​"Ah, is that so?" Cedric murmured. He turned his head slightly, shooting a lingering look of utter annoyance toward the silent, masked figure in the shadows.

​Olivia didn’t give him time to dwell on it. "So, Lord Duke, what exactly brings you to my estate today?"

​"Let’s just call it a visit between old friends," Cedric answered smoothly, crossing one leg over the other. "Though, it seems you aren’t welcoming me as warmly as you should, Duchess."

​Olivia’s brow arched subtly. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

​"This veil... and everything else," Cedric spoke softly, his voice dropping into an intimate, predatory cadence. He gesture vaguely toward the dark fabric obscuring her features, then slowly leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

"I have seen your face countless times, Olivia. So, what is the true purpose of this veil now? I know your husband’s death shattered you... but you cannot remain buried in mourning forever."

​He reached out slightly, his handsome face pulling into a sympathetic, yet profoundly mocking expression.

​"Consider this a piece of advice... from a dear friend."

Cedric’s condescending words acted like a spark dropped into a powder keg. Beneath the heavy, cold iron of his imperial armor, Matthias instantly ignited. A volatile fury surged through his veins; if water had been poured over his chest plate at that exact moment, it would have hissed and evaporated into pure steam. His jaw clenched so violently it cracked, and his gloved hand tightened around the hilt of his broadsword, the heavy leather and steel groaning loudly in the quiet room.

​The sharp sound cut through the air.

​Cedric’s eyes snapped toward the dark corner, his brow furrowing in immediate displeasure. "The knights of these days are remarkably insolent," the Duke muttered, his voice dripping with aristocratic arrogance. "To think a mere guard dares to bristle and move so aggressively in my presence."

​A dangerous glint flashed in Cedric’s eyes as he began to shift his weight, intending to stand up and confront the masked soldier face-to-face.

​Olivia caught the movement. She knew Matthias’s pride was on the verge of shattering his restraint, and she had no intention of letting his cover be blown in her drawing room—not like this.

​With a slow, devastatingly deliberate movement, Olivia reached up. Her slender fingers caught the edge of her dark veil, parting the fabric, and swept it aside.

​"Very well," Olivia spoke, "Now that you have seen my face, you can stop this pathetic acting, Lord Duke."

​Cedric completely froze. The words died in his throat as his gaze locked onto her exposed features. Bathed in the morning light, her pale skin and sharp, piercing eyes held a lethal elegance that left him momentarily paralyzed.

​"You have always been... exquisitely beautiful, Olivia," Cedric murmured.

​Olivia knew exactly what she was doing. She could feel the murderous, black aura radiating from the masked knight in the corner. She knew Matthias was losing his absolute mind, drowning in a hell of his own making—and she wanted him to drown. This was the price of his grotesque deception.

​A cruel spark danced in her eyes. Slowly, gracefully, she lifted a hand and casually ran her fingers through her cascading hair, tilting her head with a deceptive, dazzling warmth.

​"Is that so?" she replied softly, her lips curving into a radiant smile that never reached her cold eyes. "Why, thank you, Lord Duke."

Encouraged by her sudden, blinding smile, Cedric took it as an open invitation. He moved with a practiced, seamless charm, reaching across the low table to take her slender hand in his. Lifting it toward his lips, he pressed a lingering, soft kiss against the back of her knuckles, his eyes locking onto hers.

​"It is truly my distinct honor to share tea with you, Olivia," he murmured, his voice velvety and smooth.

​Olivia didn’t let the touch linger. With a cold, clinical precision, she pulled her hand back from his grip, her composure unbothered as she leaned back into her seat. "Anyway, tell me the real reason you came to visit. I know you far too well to believe you ever show up without a hidden motive."

​Cedric’s charming facade shifted, his lips curving into a much more practical, calculated smile.

​"Let’s just say I came to offer you a small, friendly warning," he replied, tilting his head with an air of mock affection. "Simply because you hold a very special place in my heart."

​"Really? And what kind of warning is it this time?" Olivia let out a quiet, mocking hum. "Is it anything like the warning you gave back in Cyrene’s story?"

​Cedric let out a low, amused chuckle.

​"Let’s just say it is a warning that follows a very specific, rather unpleasant gift that recently reached Roland," he spoke softly, leaning forward as his voice dropped into a chilling whisper. "Let’s just say... he is currently contemplating a few retaliatory measures. I cannot say for certain, but something might happen very soon. Something capable of completely wiping this grand castle off the face of the earth."

​Olivia’s expression didn’t falter, though her eyes remained sharp. "But I never sent him any gift."

​Cedric shot her a deeply mocking, knowing look. "And I never claimed you did, did I? I merely suggested the possibility that you might be blamed as the sender. But remember, my dear... if you ever find yourself without a roof over your head, my estate is always open as a sanctuary for you. Never forget that. Do not worry, I will protect you."

​"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you," Olivia replied, her tone dripping with sheer disbelief as she dismissed his hollow chivalry. "But you know me, Lord Duke. I will not abandon my castle, even if you try to threaten me like this."

​"A threat?" Cedric raised his hands in mock innocence, his smile turning razor-sharp. "I am not threatening you at all, Olivia. I am merely offering you the ultimate solution."

​Olivia narrowed her eyes, studying his shifting allegiances. "I don’t understand you. Are you standing with my father... or are you against him?"

​"Let’s just say... I stand firmly with my own interests," Cedric countered smoothly, his eyes flashing with a cold, political ambition. "So do not come crying to me when the storm hits. Look at yourself, Olivia. You are wasting away here, living in the fading ghost of a man who is already dead and gone. Meanwhile, there is someone else standing right before you who is entirely capable of giving you the world."

​Olivia arched an eyebrow, a cold, dangerous amusement pulling at the corner of her lips. "Oh? And who exactly might that be?"

​"The man sitting right in front of you."

Olivia stared at him for a single, breathless second before a laugh burst from her lips. It wasn’t a polite, aristocratic chuckle; it was a loud, mocking, and unrestrained laughter that echoed sharply against the high ceilings of the drawing room until tears began to prick the corners of her eyes.

​Cedric’s smooth smile faltered, his handsome features tightening. "What is so amusing, Olivia?"

​"You... giving me the world?" Olivia choked out, wiping a stray tear from her cheek as her laughter slowly died down, leaving behind a cold, lethal residue. "That is truly, utterly hilarious."

​"I fail to see the joke."

​In an instant, the remaining traces of amusement vanished from Olivia’s face. A chilling, razor-sharp seriousness settled over her features, her eyes locking onto his with a terrifying, absolute authority.

​"The joke, Lord Duke, is that you are currently sitting inside the Duchy of Locron, directly across from the Duchess of Locron, and you still possess the absolute audacity to speak such utter madness to my face. You are truly losing your mind."

​Cedric opened his mouth to counter. "Olivia, listen to—"

​"I would be deeply pleased if we continued this conversation at another time," she cut him off, her voice flat and dripping with ice. "I have just returned from a long, exhausting journey, and I have absolutely no time or patience for your endless political games, Duke Aleister."

​Cedric’s eyes narrowed into a dangerous, predatory slit. He didn’t move an inch. "And what if I refuse to leave?"

​BANG!

​The heavy doors of the drawing room were violently thrown open, slamming against the stone walls with a deafening crash.

​"Then I will be forced to personally throw you out of this estate, Lord Duke."

​Leon stood framed in the doorway, his massive chest heaving, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his weapon as his blazing, furious gaze locked directly onto Cedric.

​Cedric turned his head, a smooth, mocking hum escaping his throat as he slowly stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his expensive coat. "Ah, Sir Leon. Well, well. There is absolutely no need for such unrefined violence. I shall take my leave then."

​With a slow, arrogant stride, Cedric walked toward the exit. But as he brushed past Leon at the threshold, he stopped. Leaning in with a sickening, confident elegance, Cedric placed a heavy hand on Leon’s shoulder, his voice dropping into a venomous, barely audible whisper.

​"You cannot guard a husbandless woman forever, Leon," Cedric murmured, his eyes gleaming with a dark, prophetic malice. "Sooner or later... she will come crawling to me on her own."

Leon barely managed to restrain the violent urge to snap Cedric’s neck right then and there. He anchored himself to the floor, letting the Duke slip out into the corridor with his mocking smile intact. The heavy oak doors finally clicked shut, locking the absolute silence inside the room and leaving the three of them isolated in the thick, suffocating tension.

​"Oliv—"

​Before Leon could even finish uttering her name, Matthias violently ripped the dark fabric mask off his face, his breathing ragged and his features twisted in an absolute, unbridled fury.

​"Have you completely lost your mind, Olivia?!" Matthias roared, his deep voice shaking the very walls of the drawing room. "How could you sit there and let him speak to you in such a disgusting manner? He was literally flirting with you right in front of me! He even dared to press his filthy lips against your hand!"

​Olivia didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look up at him. Instead, she reached into a small porcelain dish on the table, picked up a single, delicate piece of candy, and placed it between her lips, savoring it with a cold, terrifyingly detached composure.

​"Well," she murmured, her voice smooth and entirely unbothered as she chewed. "I am, after all, a widow without a husband. Why shouldn’t I start looking for a new one? Besides..." She finally lifted her sharp eyes, casting a careless glance past his shoulder. "...instead of wasting your breath throwing a tantrum over me, maybe you should turn your head around and face the person standing right behind you."

​Matthias froze. The dangerous heat of his anger instantly drained, leaving him rigid as he slowly turned around.

​Leon was standing near the threshold, completely paralyzed. His wide, hollow eyes were locked onto the face of the brother whose supposed death had utterly destroyed him weeks ago. A devastating mix of sharp agony and profound betrayal washed over Leon’s features. He bit his lower lip so hard it nearly bled, his voice coming out as a strained, broken whisper.

​"Oh..." Leon breathed, a ghost of a bitter chuckle escaping him. "So... you’re alive."

​"Leon, listen to me, I—" Matthias stepped forward, his hands reaching out in a rare moment of desperation.

​"I don’t give a damn," Leon cut him off completely, his tone dropping into a hollow, dead winter. "Do whatever the hell you want with your life."

​Bypassing Matthias as if he were nothing more than empty air, Leon strode directly toward Olivia. The cold indifference he had just shown his brother vanished, replaced by an anxious, fiercely protective warmth as he leaned over her.

​"Sister-in-law, are you alright?" Leon asked, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of distress. "That bastard didn’t do anything to hurt you, did he?"

​Olivia let out a soft, amused sigh, tilting her head toward him. "I am perfectly fine, Leon. But... would you mind letting go of that silver teapot you are currently trying to hurl at Matthias’s head?"

​Leon’s fingers tightened rigidly around the handle of the heavy metal pot he had unconsciously gripped from the tray.

​"Unfortunately, he is still legally my husband," Olivia added, her lips curving into a beautifully cruel, mocking smile as she cast a side-glance at the paralyzed Matthias. "And I would truly hate to become a widow twice in the same month. If you please."