The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 48

Francois didn’t move at first.

He just stood there, gaze locked onto Gabriel with a look so cold, so utterly still, that it sent a chill down Beatrice’s spine.

Gabriel, to his credit, recovered quickly. He straightened, stepping back just enough to feign innocence.

"Your Highness," he greeted smoothly, as if he hadn’t just cornered her. "I was merely keeping Lady Beatrice company on her way to her chambers."

Beatrice clenched her fists.

Liar!

Francois’ expression didn’t change. He didn’t look at Beatrice, didn’t acknowledge her yet. Instead, he let the silence stretch, letting Gabriel sit in his own words before finally speaking.

"Is that so?" Francois’ voice was soft. Too soft.

Gabriel offered a small smile, casual, unbothered. "Of course. I would never let a lady walk alone at night unaccompanied. The palace can be... unpredictable."

Beatrice stiffened. That wasn’t just a lie, it was a threat. A veiled one, buried beneath false concern, but a threat nonetheless.

Francois tilted his head slightly, finally shifting his attention to Beatrice. His blue eyes flickered over her, searching for something.

Beatrice straightened, her face carefully blank.

She could lie. She could pretend nothing had happened. But her body betrayed her.

Her hands were clenched too tightly at her sides. Her breath was too shallow.

She was rattled, and Francois knew it.

His gaze darkened slightly before he turned back to Gabriel.

"Lord De Silva," he said evenly. "It’s late. I trust you’ll retire for the night."

Gabriel hesitated for just a second, just long enough to show he was debating whether or not to push his luck.

Then, with a slow bow, he stepped back.

"Of course, Your Highness. Lady Beatrice."

He turned and walked away, disappearing down the corridor.

Beatrice let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t.

But her fingers still trembled slightly, and she hated it.

Francois didn’t move. He just stood there, watching her.

"Beatrice," he said, voice lower now. Quieter.

She looked at him, willing herself to appear unaffected. "Yes, Your Highness?"

A long silence stretched between them.

"You should be more careful."

Beatrice swallowed. She wanted to brush it off, to act as if nothing had happened, but the way he was looking at her made it impossible.

"I’m always careful," she murmured.

He exhaled through his nose, stepping aside. "Go get some rest."

Beatrice hesitated, then nodded. Without another word, she walked past him, back straight, refusing to look over her shoulder.

She didn’t have to.

She could feel his gaze on her the entire way.

Beatrice barely slept.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night over and over again.

This wasn’t in the novel. It wasn’t.

She had read Johanna’s version of events a hundred times. And nowhere. Nowhere did it mention Gabriel De Silva doing something like this.

So why?

Why was this happening?

Beatrice sat up abruptly, heart pounding.

She reached for her notebook, flipping through the pages, searching. And searching...

Her fingers stilled.

She had written about the De Silva visit. About Lady De Silva’s sharp tongue, about Gabriel’s polite but forgettable presence at the table.

But that was it. That was all Johanna had ever seen.

Because Johanna hadn’t been there when Beatrice left the dining hall.

Beatrice’s stomach twisted.

She had relied so much on the novel’s events, on what she thought she knew, that she had forgotten something crucial.

Johanna’s version wasn’t the whole story.

It never had been.

Which meant, she had no idea what was supposed to happen next. And that realization was far more terrifying than anything Gabriel De Silva could have done.

Beatrice clenched the edges of her notebook, staring at the words that now felt incomplete.

How much else had she missed?

She had spent so much time memorizing Johanna’s version of events, using them as a guide to navigate this world, but tonight had proven one undeniable fact.

Johanna hadn’t seen everything.

Beatrice had been so sure she knew the story. But how much of it had she assumed?

Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. What if this had always happened?

What if in the original story, Gabriel had cornered Beatrice? What if he had done worse? And what if no one had cared?

She flipped through the notebook again, her fingers moving faster now, searching for anything, any hint, any mention of Gabriel’s true nature.

Nothing.

Because in Johanna’s eyes, Gabriel had been nothing more than a passing noble. A harmless flirtation at best.

Beatrice pressed a hand to her forehead.

She had been wrong. Not just about Gabriel, but about everything.

She had spent all this time believing she could predict the future, but now she wasn’t sure if she had ever truly understood it.

And worse, she had been acting like she was safe.

Safe from the unknown. Safe from surprises. Safe from the fate that had once led her to an execution.

But if tonight had proven anything, it was that she wasn’t safe at all.

The novel wasn’t just changing. It had never been complete to begin with.

Beatrice exhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down.

Panic wouldn’t help. She needed to think.

Her grip tightened around the notebook as she turned back to the latest page, staring at the ink that still glistened under the candlelight.

She had rewritten fate once before. She would do it again. This time, not just to survive. But to truly understand the story she was living in.

Beatrice closed the notebook, setting it aside with careful precision. She leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly as she stared at the flickering candle.

She would have to be careful. If Francois had already suspected something before, tonight’s incident would only make him watch her even more closely. And if Gabriel was bold enough to corner her once, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t try again.

Her fingers drummed lightly against the table.

She could handle the court’s whispers. She could handle the scrutiny. But what she couldn’t handle was not knowing what came next.

For the first time, she wasn’t just dreading the future. She was walking into it blind.

Beatrice clenched her jaw, steeling herself.

If she didn’t know what was coming, she would just have to be ready for anything.

And the next time someone tried to catch her off guard, she wouldn’t be the one left cornered.