I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 132: Divine Justice

Olivia didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. Her face was as dead as the stone walls surrounding them. She just leaned back, watching a tear roll down Kyle’s cheek with the same indifference she’d show a smudge of dirt.

​"So... that’s how it is," she muttered. Her voice was flat, empty.

​Kyle recoiled, his eyes bloodshot and confused through the fog of wine. "You’re not surprised? Olivia, she tried to butcher her. Her own granddaughter!"

​Olivia shrugged, a slow, bored movement. "Why would I be? She tried to kill me, and I’m her daughter. You really think a granddaughter is an exception? The woman is a snake, Kyle. Snakes bite. That’s all they do."

​Kyle’s tongue felt thick, useless. He wanted to find some excuse, some shred of humanity to hold onto, but her words were a bitter truth that choked him. "Even for her... touching a child is—"

​But Olivia wasn’t listening to his pathetic moral struggle. She had already moved on. Her mind was working, dissecting the situation. "Tell me. Did you or Lyla do something to piss her off? She’s a bitch, but she doesn’t move without a reason."

Kyle wiped his face, the messy grief briefly replaced by a hard, dark focus. "Well... actually, Someone took the Empress... and they took her sight, too."

​A faint, pale smile touched Olivia’s lips. It wasn’t a happy look; it was the expression of someone watching a bloody puzzle piece fall into place. "Kidnapped the Empress? And took her eyes?"

​"Yes."

​"And do they know who did it?"

​"No. But that’s not the point, Olivia! Pay attention! She tried to blind Ann because she wanted her eyes!"

​Olivia stopped listening. Her mind went straight back to the night before. To Mathias. To that "gift" he said came from a "dear friend."

​A gift from the Empire...

​"Damn you, Mathias," she hissed under her breath. A slow, hot anger rose in her chest. Do you love death that much? Just wait... I’ll send you to hell myself once I’m done with this.

​"Hey! Olivia! Are you listening?" Kyle’s voice cracked. "I’m telling you she tried to hurt my daughter!"

​Olivia reached out, her fingers absent-mindedly messing with his tangled hair—a cold, mechanical gesture. "I heard you, Kyle. Don’t worry. I’ll take back what’s owed to your daughter myself. Just wait."

​"What are you talking about?" Kyle stuttered. "You can’t fight her. I tried, and look at me. I paid the price."

​"Patience is the key to everything, Kyle. Now, stand up. Stop this pathetic act. You’re a father, for God’s sake. Stop drinking like a gutter rat. You’re the Crown Prince."

​She turned to leave, the silk of her skirts brushing the floor, but his next words stopped her cold.

​"I’m not the Crown Prince anymore."

​Olivia froze. The room went silent. "What?"

​"You heard me. We fought. The Emperor made his choice and stripped me of the title, and I spat it back in his face. It’s over."

​Olivia slapped her own forehead, a rare look of genuine shock on her face. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. "You? You gave up the throne?"

​Kyle looked up, his bloodshot eyes full of doubt. "Is ’Just Kyle’ too much of a nuisance for you now? Or did you only like having a brother with a crown?"

​Olivia folded her arms, her eyes narrowing as she looked him down. "I never saw you as a Prince, Kyle. You’ve always been my annoying little brother. We’ll talk about your stupidity later—when you’re actually sober. Right now, I have a ’private’ matter to settle with my husband."

The warmth of her words—calling him her brother even without the crown—hit Kyle like a sudden heat. He felt a desperate need for comfort and lunged forward, his arms open for a hug. But Olivia was faster.

​She slammed her palm against his forehead, stopping him mid-air. Kyle’s arms hung there, useless and pathetic.

​"Keep your distance," she snapped, her voice cold as ice. "I don’t do hugs."

​Kyle slumped back, a weak, exhausted laugh escaping him. "Fine. As you wish."

​Olivia walked out of the room, a faint, sharp smile on her face. It stayed there, growing more toxic until she reached her own chambers.

​She stood before the mirror, staring at the woman looking back—a woman built from the wreckage of the Palace. Suddenly, a laugh broke from her throat, a sharp, terrifying sound that filled the silent room.

​"Divine justice..." she whispered. Her eyes in the mirror were bright with a dark, manic light. "My god, is this finally it?"

​She leaned closer to the glass, her breath fogging it up. "She lost the son she loved, the one she used as a weapon against me. And now? Now that same son is hiding in my shadow, running from her stench. She’s been kidnapped, blinded, broken..."

​Olivia bit her lip until she tasted the copper tang of blood. She let the pain sink in, a physical part of the pleasure rushing through her.

​"Oh, Alisha... this is only the beginning," she hissed. Her voice was low, a steady promise of death. "You’ve seen the abyss, but I’m the one who’s going to show you hell. And I’ll do it with my own hands."

​Cedric stood in the middle of the mess, looking at the bodies scattered across the floor like broken toys. He watched Roland—the great Duke turned madman—tearing through anything in his way. Roland’s sword hit stone and flesh with a heavy, wet thud that made the stomach turn.

​"Damn it! Damn it all!" Roland’s roar broke the silence. "All of you... you useless bastards! A palace full of ’elites,’ and not one of you can find her!"

​Cedric turned to Alifeira. She stood still, her eyes fixed on the empty hallway. "How much longer is your father going to keep up this act? I’m tired of watching him throw away what’s left of his dignity."

​She snapped her head toward him, her eyes dark. "Shut up, Cedric. That’s my mother. I’ll kill anyone who even whispers that we won’t find her."

​Cedric let out a short, dry laugh. "Maybe you should have killed the one who took her and tied you up like a helpless bitch. Wouldn’t that have saved us the trouble? We could be celebrating, not... whatever this is."

Alifeira’s hand shot to his throat, her grip tight enough to cut off his breath. "هاي..." she hissed, her voice low. "اخرس! Do you think I was beaten by some common rat? He wasn’t even human, Cedric. Even with all my strength, I wasn’t his match. He tied me up with a power I’ve never seen. Something from the deepest pit of hell."

​She tightened her hold, her hand shaking with pure helplessness. "If I only knew who it was... if I could only find my mother..."

​Cedric pried her hand away, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. "How was he? His power... his aura... tell me."

​"It was..." She paused, a shiver running through her. "...everything. Everything about him was drowning in shadow. A thick, black mist that came with him. It was choking me, freezing my very energy. It was... a power from another world."

​Cedric opened his mouth to speak, the name of a certain man already on his tongue, but he stopped. A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth—a sudden, dark realization. He quickly hid it, swallowing the words back down. Choking shadow... freezing energy...

Roland finally stopped. He stepped over the cooling bodies of his own men, looking less like a Duke and more like a butcher finishing a long shift. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the blood from his knuckles.

​"Cedric Alister," Roland muttered, his voice empty. "I didn’t see you. Forgive me... I was busy with some cleaning."

​Cedric glanced at the pile of corpses, a faint smirk on his lips. "Cleaning. Right. Of course." He leaned against a bloody pillar, his eyes following Roland’s every move. "But that’s not why I’m here. So, tell me, Roland... what do you want?"

​Roland turned. His eyes were dead. He stepped forward until he was inches from Cedric’s face, smelling of blood and old sweat. "You know we have a partnership. And I know there isn’t a secret in this godforsaken Empire that you don’t hear." He leaned in closer. "Find the son of a bitch who touched my wife. Do that, and I’ll give you anything you want. Anything."

​Cedric’s eyes narrowed. "Anything?"

​"Anything."

​"Hmm..." Cedric circled Roland. "Then let’s start with a down payment. Not an object, but a piece of information. Consider it a deposit for my... efforts."

Roland’s jaw tightened. "And what would that be?"

​"I heard a rumor a while ago," Cedric said, "and the way you’re acting... it practically confirms it."

​"What rumor?"

​Cedric stopped behind him, whispering into the cold air. "That Imperial blood gives you something like immortality. You want your wife back so badly right?"

​Roland didn’t move. He folded his arms, staring into Cedric’s dark eyes. "So... you want the Secret."

​Cedric let out a short laugh. "You really do get straight to the point. You confirm the rumor—tell me how it works—and I’ll find your wife. In fact," he added with a thin smile, "I might even bring her back to you walking on her own two feet. Who knows?"

​Roland stayed silent, the smell of blood in the room heavy between them. Finally, he took a long breath and held out his hand. "Deal."

Cedric gripped his hand, his fingers cold as iron. "I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Roland."

​Roland leaned in and whispered the Imperial secret. Cedric listened, a slow, dark satisfaction spreading across his face. This was better than gold; it was the key to everything.

​"Well then," Cedric said, straightening his coat. "I’ll see you when I have news of your wife. Excuse me."

​As soon as he stepped out into the dark, Alifeira turned to her father. Her voice was a low hiss. "He knows something. I can feel it."

​"Of course he knows," Roland replied. His voice was flat, dead. "But it doesn’t matter. What matters is the Duchess. I don’t care how he brings her back."

​Cedric climbed into his carriage, a cold grin on his face. He leaned out the window and barked at the driver, "To the Luceron Duchy. I need to visit my old friend Mathias. I’m sure he’s missed me."

​Back at the castle, a frantic knocking broke the silence of Mathias’s study.

​"Enter," Mathias growled.

The Head Butler stumbled in, his face even paler than before. Mathias didn’t even look up. "We haven’t been here a full day and you’re wearing that pathetic face again. What now? Has the Crown Prince caused another scene?"

​"No, Your Grace... he is in his room. And the Duchess is in hers."

​"Then what?"

​"You have a visitor."

​"A visitor?" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

​Cedric walked in before the Butler could finish, his movements relaxed and mocking. "Hello, old friend. I haven’t seen you around lately."

​Mathias’s eyes narrowed. "What do you want? Why the hell are you here?"

​"Aggressive as ever," Cedric sighed, throwing himself onto the sofa like he owned the place. "Hmm... aren’t you going to offer me some tea? This castle used to feel like home once."

​Mathias gave the Butler a look, dismissing him. As the door shut, the air in the room turned cold. "Whatever brought you here, get out before I throw you out myself."

​Cedric stared at him, a mean glint in his eyes. "I’ll leave. But only after I see Olivia. I have something important to tell her."

​In a second, Mathias lunged forward, grabbing Cedric by his collar and slamming him back. "Didn’t I tell you to stay the hell away from her, you bastard?"

​Cedric ripped Mathias’s hand away, his face hardening. "Do you want to fight like the old days? Calm down. But before I see Olivia—and I will see her—I have a question for you."

​Mathias glared at him, silent and deadly.

​Cedric leaned in, his voice dropping. "Tell me, has stealing other men’s women become a hobby of yours? You weren’t satisfied with stealing Olivia from me... now you’ve taken her mother from her father? Your morals have truly hit rock bottom, Mathias."