Chapter 69
- Olivia
2023.12.08.
Anne Boleyn felt wronged.
"It wasn't me. It wasn't. I swear to God."
Brit's Crown Prince, Alex, sighed deeply.
"It's not about whether you say it wasn't you. If Yohan believes it, then it is. I told you, Anne. Don't be reckless."
"Seriously, why are you doing this? I said it wasn't me."
"Why did you meet Seymour's daughter?"
"......"
Anne Boleyn closed her mouth at the unusually cold question.
"Don't even think about denying it. Someone saw you in the West Palace."
Anne Boleyn's whole body trembled with shock.
She had secretly summoned her through a secret passage to the outside. Even if someone had seen her, she was wearing a hood, so identification would have been impossible.
Besides, wasn't it in the middle of the night?
But how?
Anne Boleyn recalled the faces of her maids one by one. Even her secretary and the courtiers of the West Palace, one by one.
There's a spy.
Otherwise, how could they...?
Who is it?
Who dares?
"Anne."
At Alex's call, Anne Boleyn snapped out of her thoughts, composed herself, and said nonchalantly.
"She's been asking to join our group for a long time."
"So you decided to accept her now of all times."
"Is that wrong now too?"
"Anne."
"I wasn't alone. Kyla was with me too. So ask her directly. Ask Miss Seymour directly."
Her eyes, transparently swollen, turned red.
"I know very well what my fault is. My fault is... loving Ed too much."
Anne Boleyn sobbed.
"So, if anything happens to that woman, everyone suspects me. Isn't that right? I only had a meeting that I was perfectly entitled to have in my position, so why should I be subjected to such insulting misunderstandings?"
A sigh of pity escaped from her lips, which had been firmly closed.
Alex stared blankly at his sister, who was sobbing sorrowfully.
"Don't touch that woman, Anne."
"What is it about that woman that makes everyone act like this!"
Anne Boleyn shouted hysterically.
His sister, who had lived a life where everything was prepared for her, did not know how to get what she wanted.
It was one of the things his father and he had failed to teach her.
'Alex, if you truly love the princess, don't be weak. That's not the way to help your sister.'
"Refrain from going out except for the tournament schedule for the time being."
"......Oh, brother......"
Anne Boleyn's eyes widened as tears streamed down her face.
"I can't do that."
It wasn't the kind of thing the Crown Prince he knew would say. Anne Boleyn's mind went blank.
To her, who had no mother, Alex was like a brother and a mother. Always kind and warm.
"This is an order from me, not as your brother, but as the Crown Prince of this country. Don't disappoint me, Anne."
"Brother!!!"
Leaving behind a scream close to a shriek, Alex left Anne Boleyn's bedroom.
Even after the door closed, the sound of her sobbing racked Alex's heart.
Louise's voice earnestly held back the urge to rush in and comfort her.
'The world has changed, Alex. A royal family that fails to gain the trust of the people will lose its place. The princess isn't the only thing you have to protect.'
She carefully took Alex's arm and placed it on her stomach.
That was how his wife announced her pregnancy. He clenched his jaw.
"Kyla."
Kyla Johansson, Anne Boleyn's friend and cousin, looked up at the Crown Prince.
"I'm entrusting Anne to you."
"Yes."
Alex, his fists clenched, turned away.
"Don't cry, Anne."
Kyla stroked Anne Boleyn's back as she stared at her silently.
"He's changed. He's never been like this to me before."
Anne Boleyn sobbed endlessly.
"He's trying to protect you. You know, Anne. You know how much His Highness cares about you."
As always, Kyla offered words of comfort. She told the maid to bring warm tea.
Then, she calmly watched Anne Boleyn, whose shoulders were still shaking.
That position could have been mine.
My mother, the eldest daughter of the late King and a noble princess.
A pitiful woman who could not ascend the throne for the sole reason that she was a woman and lived the life of an ordinary woman.
Even though they were granddaughters of the late King, their statuses were drastically different.
Conversation partner, playmate.
Anne Boleyn claimed they were friends, but they had never been equal.
"Calm down, Anne. Calm down and drink this."
Kyla personally poured the tea that the maid had brought into a bright blue cup and placed it in front of Anne Boleyn.
The bitter scent of herbs rose from the teacup. Her eyes, damp with moisture, stared blankly at the tea.
From a young age, she was not allowed to be better than Anne Boleyn in anything.
Even at her once-in-a-lifetime debutante ball, she was not allowed to wear a dress prettier than the princess's, and the number of accessories she could wear was also limited.
She was never allowed to walk ahead of her, and if the princess wanted a man she had her eye on, she had to give him up.
Therefore, Kyla had always envied Rondos, which was ruled by a Queen.
If Brit were such a country, the princess would have been her, not Anne Boleyn.
Kyla picked up the cup and placed it in Anne Boleyn's hand. Amber eyes, their focus blurred, looked at Kyla.
Anne Boleyn's era, which had been so brilliantly shining, seemed as precarious as the flickering light of a gas lamp.
At that moment, she realized for the first time that the princess's solid life might collapse.
"Don't worry. That woman will never share the stage with you. I guarantee it."
Kyla said, carefully watching Anne Boleyn's face gradually regain its color.
"No. Don't do anything, Kyla."
Anne Boleyn wasn't stupid.
"I appreciate your concern, Kyla. But those people will blame me even if that woman falls while walking alone. So don't do anything."
"Okay. I was short-sighted. I will do that."
Kyla gently stroked Anne Boleyn's back. After a while, she looked down at Anne Boleyn's red hair with a soft gaze and whispered.
"I won't do anything."
Anne Boleyn, leaning her head against Kyla's chest, did not see Kyla's eyes darkening.
After Anne Boleyn's seclusion, Olivia was sailing smoothly towards the finals, as if the wind was at her back.
Articles praising the rising star who was rising fiercely decorated the front page of the newspaper every day, and the public's attitude towards the brazen femme fatale was rapidly changing.
Olivia Blanchett on the green grass was so attractive that anyone who saw her even once could not help but fall in love with her.
"Where's Olivia?"
Edgar, who had opened the door to the VIP suite on the top floor of the Lancelot Hotel, asked Marie, the maid who was cleaning the room.
"She went to the tennis court with Countess Elaine."
Marie politely replied.
The townhouse on Riverside 3rd Street where Olivia was staying had been exposed.
The neighbors were complaining because of the reporters who were camped out in front of the house day and night, so she eventually had to move.
Edgar nodded briefly and headed towards the tennis court.
His steps, striding across the lobby and through the corridor leading to the garden, were unhesitating.
As he descended the terrace steps and passed through the neatly arranged hedge maze, the tennis court gradually came into view.
Edgar stopped walking and narrowed his brows. His gaze, sweeping over the empty grass, fixed on the caretaker.
"Where's Olivia?"
"She went to the lounge with her party."
The midday sun poured brightly over the empty green space.
Edgar, squinting as if dazzled, nodded lightly and turned back towards the main building.
He thought the hotel grounds were unnecessarily large.
As he entered the lobby, the sound of piano music flowing from the lounge echoed softly in the high-ceilinged marble space.
Edgar, who slowly looked around the lounge filled with the aroma of freshly roasted beans, asked the manager who had rushed out.
"Where's Olivia?"
Edgar, repeating the same question, was running out of patience.
"It's, it's full, so she left."
As expected, the answer, which was not much different from what he had heard earlier, came back politely.
"Do you know where she went?"
"I don't know that much... I'll find out."
"It's okay. Go do your job."
So, back to square one.
Edgar was standing in front of the door to the room where Olivia was staying. He clenched the hand he had lightly raised to knock.
From inside, the vulgar laughter of that damn Russell Junior was flowing out, without any sense of propriety.
Following that, a woman's laughter leaked out, thankfully not Olivia's.
Edgar sighed annoyedly and knocked politely.
As expected, it was a maid who opened the door.
As Edgar entered, Olivia, who was sitting at a round table, stood up in surprise.
"Edgar!"
Her blue eyes, wide like a rabbit's, were soon filled with a wave of joy.
Meeting those eyes made him feel like his depleted patience was refilling.
Olivia came up to him with hurried steps and stood in front of him with a smiling face.
"You're here?"
"Looks like you were having quite a good time?"
It was a reproachful remark, but Olivia smiled and replied without concern.
"After practice, I was taking a break and the coach was telling me stories from his playing days."
Still a pathetic guy.
The thought of the woman listening enthusiastically to his disorderly boasting made him quite unpleasant.
"I see."
Edgar looked at Russell Junior with selfish intent. He flinched.
"We meet often."
Elaine, who was standing next to Russell Junior, greeted him.
Her eyes were not kind. Edgar ignored her appropriately and nodded.
"I have something to say."
He wanted to kick out the interlopers right away. But Olivia wouldn't like it. Instead, Edgar lightly pointed to the balcony with his chin.
"I'm sorry. I'll be back in a moment."
Olivia asked for understanding as if she was committing some great rudeness and came out to the balcony with Edgar.
"What's wrong?"
Olivia, standing face to face, looked up and asked. Her blue eyes, reflecting the sunlight, sparkled.
