It was an unmistakable kissing scene, embarrassing even though they hadn’t actually kissed.

She turned the newspaper over and buried her face in her hands.

Had he seen it?

Johan was always busy, indifferent to his wife, to everything but work.

Maybe he hadn’t seen it. Or even if he had, he might not care.

Such rationalizations, a form of escapism, brought momentary peace. She decided to be positive and planned her next steps.

Briar.

It was time to leave Lancelot Hotel.

The next morning, after a simple breakfast, they packed their bags.

Olivia cut her lush hair into a neat bob, donned an ordinary brown dress, and deeply pulled on a simple bonnet, looking every bit the typical maid.

According to Marie, the maid, reporters swarmed the hotel’s main entrance since the ball.

“They won’t recognize me, will they?”

“You look completely different,” replied Marie.

Satisfied with her reflection, Olivia glanced around the luxurious room, ending her gaze on Marie. She thanked the maid for her assistance.

“Let’s go, Ann.”

Gripping the leather trunk handle firmly, Olivia spoke.

“Yes, Miss.”

The two left the room, once overlooking a beautiful garden now shrouded in fog.
The two of them, having modestly packed their bags, left the room. Beyond the window that overlooked the beautiful garden, the fog had thickened.

During the carriage ride to the station, the fog only grew denser.

“She went to Litten Central Station,” Edgar noted lightly, his attention caught by the green shoes in the box before him.

That night of the rose ball, the woman who had fled in alarm had remarkably small feet.

“What time is her train?”

“At 1 p.m.”

“Close call.”

Satisfied, Edgar gestured that his aide could leave. Once alone, his gaze shifted to the newspaper spread before him.

A satisfactory picture indeed.

To anyone, they appeared like lovers indulging in a secret romance. The woman seemed more ardently involved.

He wondered if Johan would appreciate it.

Four days later, the scandal still held momentum, especially linked with the princess, creating a synergistic effect. Not that it was all planned.

Edgar’s lips stretched into a long smile.

Olivia Blanchett’s notoriety was now proven.

With the soon-to-be-completed Dumblin Stadium and the tennis tournament there, the fruition of his five-year-long project was imminent.

Use and enjoy, moderately.

Olivia Blanchett was perfect for that.

Closing the box of waiting shoes, the sparkle of the jewels on the green satin faded. Then, a knock at the door.

“Princess Britta has arrived.”

Edgar frowned slightly.

He hadn’t thought much of the princess’s return to Britta after her divorce. She was just another woman who had passed through his life.

But Annblyn Grace Britta was different, apparently.

“Please, bring some tea.”

The secretary left, and Princess Annblyn entered.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced.”

Her apology seemed sincere.

“You knew, yet you came.”

Edgar stood up, circling his desk to approach her.

“Please, have a seat, Your Highness.”

He greeted her nonchalantly and lounged comfortably on the sofa.

“I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Why.”

What performance would she give today?

Edgar was already bored. Crossing his long legs, he relaxed further.

Annblyn, disconcerted by her former lover’s indifferent gaze, struggled to begin speaking.