I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 118: Vortex

Alisha was enduring a living hell because of him, and Serene was withering under the agony of a forbidden love because of him. He had laid waste to the lives of the two women he had sworn to protect.

"No... No, no, no!" Lucius stammered, his mind a frantic labyrinth of denial. "It is impossible. He is lying! My sister could never love a man like him. He must have forged these letters—a cruel fabrication to break you, to break me!"

Amidst this psychological wreckage, Alisha lifted her pallid face. Tears tracked down her cheeks with a poetic, haunting precision. She whispered, her voice a fractured reed: "Lucius... or rather, Your Majesty... I will consent to the divorce. I will leave this place. But on one condition."

Lucius swallowed a bitter, jagged lump of grief. "Anything. Ask for the world, and it is yours."

Alisha closed her eyes as if bearing the crushing weight of the heavens upon her shoulders. "Grant Serene and Roland the right to be together," she pleaded. "I can no longer live with this suffocating anchor upon my conscience."

Lucius gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp wheeze. But Alisha continued to weave her silken, diabolical web: "In truth... Serene did love him. She has loved him for a long time. I knew."

"What?" Lucius recoiled as if struck, his face a mask of shattered disbelief.

"I hid their love from you for so long," she continued, her voice trembling with the perfect pitch of a tragic heroine. "I did not want to betray Serene’s confidence. I could not bring myself to break my friend’s trust. And now... look at us. We are all paying the price for that silence. This is my only condition: free yourself from your guilt, and set me free from my prison."

Lucius did not realize that Alisha was systematically shackling his hands and his sovereignty. By forcing him to "bless" this unholy union between Roland and Serene—a tragedy she had authored—she was donning the mantle of a martyr. She was ensuring Roland remained tethered to Serene and purged from her own life, all while leaving Lucius eternally indebted to her for "saving" his sister’s happiness.

"Fine," Lucius choked out, the words tasting like ash in his throat. "I will grant the decree. You have my Imperial sanction to marry Princess Serene. Just... sign it. Release her."

A predatory grin carved its way across Roland’s face. He pulled a parchment from his desk and signed it with a flourish of jagged arrogance. "You certainly took your time, brother-in-law," Roland mused, sliding the paper toward him. "Here is your prize. I shall come to collect what is mine soon enough. Enjoy her while you can."

Lucius could not even bring himself to look at the man. He helped Alisha to her feet, his soul weeping for the "sacrifice" he believed he was making. "Let us go, Alisha. Let us leave this cursed place behind."

As Alisha rose, she leaned heavily against Lucius, the picture of a shattered victim whose strength had finally failed. But the moment her face was shielded from his view, her eyes locked onto Roland’s for a single, chilling second.

The tears were still wet upon her skin, but the eyes beneath them burned with the cold, incandescent fire of total victory. With a ghostly smile that only Roland witnessed, Alisha drifted out of the Tharron estate like a silent knight draped in the silk of martyrdom, leaving the ruins of their world to burn in her wake.

The icy winds of memory receded, leaving Alisha anchored in the suffocating stillness of the present. In a heartbeat, the triumphant girl of the past dissolved, replaced by the seasoned Empress—a woman draped in a calculated, bone-deep chill.

She cast a sharp, jagged look at Roland. "Roland, what is this boorish reception? I expected better of you than this."

Roland stood motionless, a faded shadow against the gloom. "Alisha... what brings you here without an audience?"

Alisha exhaled a breath of sharp, jagged anxiety. "It is Lucius. He is spiraling, falling apart because his sister hasn’t sent a single letter in weeks. Do you truly wish for us to be devoured by his burgeoning madness? Why has there been no word? Has something deviated from the plan?"

"She is sleeping," Roland replied, his voice a flat, desolate monotony.

Alisha let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed hollowly against the walls. "Then wake her! Do you intend to keep her hidden forever while the Emperor burns with questions? Wake her. Now."

"I told you, she is sleeping. Do you not understand?" Roland’s voice dropped to a lethal, gutteral vibration. "Leave this place. At once."

At first, the weight of his words failed to register. But then, the memory of her encounter moments ago surged back—the tactile ghost of Serene’s skin, the unnatural coldness, and the absolute, terrifying absence of a pulse. Her face went deathly pale, her imperial composure shattering like fragile glass.

"Wait..." she breathed, her voice trembling. "Do you mean... she is...? No, it cannot be."

She stared at the figure draped across the bed with shattered disbelief. "My God... how? This is impossible."

Roland leaned in, his shadow eclipsing her. He pressed his lips close to her ear, his whisper a cold, venomous caress: "To answer that question... perhaps you should ask your precious daughter."

The carriage lurched to a halt before a secluded estate, a sanctuary cradled by the rhythmic sighing of ancient pines, far from the prying eyes of the capital.

"We have arrived."

The doors swung open, and the party descended into the crisp air—all except Olivia. Mathias reached into the carriage, his arms sweeping beneath her with practiced ease, lifting her as if she were a delicate porcelain doll.

"Is it truly necessary to carry me like this?" she murmured, her voice caught between protest and a reluctant comfort.

Mathias offered a rogue’s grin, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, I suppose I could let you flounder in the snow. It would certainly be a comical sight to behold."

Leon, watching the spectacle with an arched eyebrow, cut through the moment with a dry drawl. "Look at the lovebirds. The sun is setting, and the servants are watching—try to maintain a shred of decorum, will you?"

"That absolute scoundrel," Olivia hissed under her breath.

"Bear with him just a moment longer," Mathias whispered against her ear. "Let us get inside."

Unlike Leon’s cynicism, Isabella watched the exchange with a soft, lingering gaze. Seeing the uncharacteristic tenderness in Mathias’s touch, she felt a small smile tug at her lips. "They truly are sweet together," she whispered to herself. "At least... when they aren’t trying to tear each other’s throats out."

Inside, the warmth of the hearth rushed to meet them. Mathias moved behind Olivia, his hands steady as he helped her slide the heavy cloak from her shoulders. Once she was free of the weight, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he draped his arms around her waist from behind, leaning in to press a lingering, feather-light kiss against the curve of her neck.

"Olivia," he spoke, his voice dropping to a low, velvety rasp—a sound of pure, unadulterated relaxation.

The touch sent a sudden shiver racing down her spine, a silent electric hum that vibrated through her entire being.

"What is it?" she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

Mathias tightened his embrace as if trying to anchor her to the very earth. "Do not trouble yourself with a single concern from this moment forth," he murmured, his voice a low, steady vow. "I will shoulder everything. You need only rest here. Agreed?"

Olivia did not fully grasp the cryptic weight behind his words, yet she offered a weary reply. "Isn’t that the primary reason we are here to begin with?"

A soft, private chuckle vibrated in his chest. He turned her gently within his arms to face him, his hands remaining anchored to her waist like a tender shackle. "Of course, that is the reason." He leaned down, pressing a long, lingering kiss to her lips, before trailing upward to touch his mouth to her sightless eyes. "I promise you... I will do whatever it takes to restore your sight. Just trust me."

He pulled her into his arms once more, clutching her with a sudden, fierce intensity, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real—as if she were a phantom that might dissolve if he loosened his grip. Olivia raised her hands to return the embrace, but her fingers faltered in the air, trembling with a sharp, unspoken hesitation.

The fragile moment was fractured by three measured knocks. Mathias opened the door to find Isabella standing there, her posture draped in a visible, aching hesitation. "May I speak with Olivia?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Olivia remained motionless, her face an impenetrable mask of exhaustion. When no word of welcome came from her, Mathias stepped aside. "Of course. I will leave you two to talk; I have matters to discuss with Leon."

The heavy click of the door signaled his departure. A suffocating silence stretched between the two women for several minutes, thick enough to choke the air. Finally, Olivia shattered it, her voice as sharp and cold as a winter gale.

"I assume Mathias is out of earshot now," she began, her tone devoid of its earlier softness. "I did not wish to humiliate you in front of him, but I would be truly grateful if you got out of here as quickly as possible. Your very presence beside me is an agitation... so please, leave."

In the hallway, Leon stood waiting, his brow furrowed in a mask of deep suspicion. "Mathias... why did you truly bring us here? This place feels more like a fortress than a sanctuary for rest."

Mathias let out a soft chuckle, though the mirth failed to reach his eyes, which remained as sharp and unyielding as flint. "You make me sound like a cold-blooded statue, Leon. I brought Olivia here so she could find peace, far removed from the chaos of the capital. That is all."

"Right," Leon countered, his voice dripping with disbelief. "I don’t buy a single word of that. Just tell me—what is your real end-game?"

Mathias adjusted his cuffs with a provocative, calculated calm, the phantom of a smile never leaving his lips. "I would be grateful if you allowed her and Isabella some time together; I believe they share a certain... closeness. As for me, I plan to visit somewhere."

Leon’s pupils constricted, his instinct flaring like a warning beacon. "Gone? To where, exactly?"

"Oh, nowhere special," Mathias replied, his tone chillingly casual as he turned toward the exit. "I simply wish to procure a unique gift for Olivia. A gift that changes everything."