The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!-Chapter 296: Annora’s Victory

Annora turned with a sense of superiority, expecting to see a maid or one of the attendants bustling about. Instead, her brown eyes widened slightly before narrowing with suspicion.

Benedict stood there, his tall frame leaning ever so slightly against the closed door, as if he had been there for longer than she realised.

She had not even noticed when he entered.

Her fingers, which had just been idly trailing the golden embroidery of her wedding gown, curled slightly. What was he doing here?

For a brief moment, the irrational thought crossed her mind—was he here to stop the wedding? No. He would not.

Benedict had been unpredictable as of late, but he was not foolish. She could not allow him to ruin what she had spent so long preparing.

Controlling her emotions, she exhaled slowly. She still had a facade to put on.

forcing her voice into something gentle, almost sweet as she turned fully to face him.

"Why are you here?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, as if his presence was nothing more than an unexpected but welcomed visit.

Benedict did not answer right away. Instead, his amber eyes studied her with an expression that made her stomach twist. He was not looking at her with suspicion or anger. There was no accusation in his gaze.

Instead, he smiled.

"You said you were doing this for me..." He started, his voice calm and steady. "But I’ve decided to take things into my own hands."

So it was not irrational. She was right.

He was such a fool.

Her fingers clenched the fabric of her dress before she smoothed it down, her features shifting into an expression of deep concern.

"I cannot have you named as a traitor!" She insisted, her voice trembling with just enough emotion to sound genuine.

She took a step closer, her gaze desperate, pleading.

"Benedict, I love you too much for that."

It was a lie, of course.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe, in some twisted way, she did still love him.

Once upon a time, he had been her greatest supporter. He had loved her with the kind of devotion that Cassian had never been capable of. She had believed in him.

And then, he had abandoned her.

She had suffered because of him. He had turned her into a murderer.

So now, she would return the favour.

She turned away, making sure her movements were graceful yet fragile, as if she was barely holding herself together.

"Please leave," she whispered, her voice breaking just enough to be convincing.

She raised a delicate hand to her face, pressing her fingers to her eyes as if wiping away tears.

"I hate you."

The words came softly, but they cut through the air like a blade.

"Please, just go."

Benedict flinched.

She could see it, even without looking directly at him.

She could feel the hesitation in the silence that stretched between them.

For a moment, she thought he might argue.

His breathing was heavier than before. She could hear the faint shift of movement—his arm lifting slightly, as if he wanted to reach for her. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Her heart pounded in anticipation.

Would he take her hand? Would he pull her into his arms? Would he fight for her?

No.

His hand stopped midair.

He saw the white of her wedding dress.

That single reminder was enough.

Annora kept her back to him, hiding the small, satisfied smirk that formed on her lips.

Benedict exhaled.

Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his hand.

"You don’t really hate me."

His words were quiet, but firm.

Annora said nothing.

She did not need to.

Silence was a stronger answer than words could ever be.

And finally, after a long moment, Benedict took a step back.

Then another.

And then, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Annora standing in the grand, candlelit room, still turned away from where he had just been.

She let out a slow, deep breath, her smirk fading into something unreadable. Cassian will fall... He will die in Benedict’s hands. Benedict will be charged with treason. And she, she will be safe. The poor little widow who had her husband killed.

Benedict already planned to remove the Imperial concubine from the picture so that the third prince would remain under his control. All she had to do was play the widow well, as the saintess, she could take the third prince under her and become the Empress Regent.

In this life, she will win at all costs.

---

The grand hall was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers shimmering like a thousand captured stars. Nobles dressed in their finest silks and velvets filled the space, their voices blending into an indistinct hum of conversation.

It was a grand celebration, a union between the First Prince and the Saintess—one that solidified alliances and power.

Yet, one person was noticeably absent.

Adeline.

Alaric, standing among the gathered aristocrats, let his gaze sweep across the hall. He had expected as much. His sister did not have to attend a wedding, nor should she be forced to.

This wedding was not just a simple union.

It was a battlefield.

The factions in attendance made that abundantly clear.

The First Prince’s supporters were all smiling, laughing, and basking in what they believed to be a strong political manoeuvre. A Saintess as a Princess? It was an excellent move—an undeniable bond between the Crown and the Holy Temple. They thought they had won.

But the Third Prince’s faction...

They were even more pleased.

Because their plan had already been set into motion.

The decorations were excessive, as expected. The Empress, eager to please her future daughter-in-law, had spared no expense. She could not win over her son, the only thing she could do was to win over her daughter-in-law whom her son seemed to be smitten with.

Gold adorned every surface, shimmering against the embroidered banners that draped from the ceiling. Rare jewels were embedded into the altar, the richness of it all enough to make even the wealthiest nobles feel a twinge of envy.

She smirked. Her position as the Empress has to be unshakeable. She was desperate.