An Incomplete Divorce (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 4
Olivia mingled briefly among the excited onlookers and gazed at the man.
The man’s forearm, gripping the racket as he walked, was firm—her eyes were drawn to it despite herself.
A servant took the racket from the man as he returned to the bench, exhaling a hot breath, and handed him a towel. The man wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel he’d received.
As the man sat down on the bench, a gentleman who appeared to be his friend offered him a glass.
From the glass, containing a slice of lemon and clear ice cubes, a droplet of condensation fell with a soft *plink*. Just then, a man strolling over from the opposite court grumbled,
“The ball’s damnably off today.”
“Just today?”
The other gentlemen lounging on the bench burst out laughing and jeered.
The men soon lit cigars and began exchanging idle chatter, while the ladies circled elegantly nearby, feigning strolls yet casting furtive, eager glances their way.
Olivia turned on her heel toward the main building.
“Johann’s ex-wife—wasn’t she in Lytton?”
“That woman?”
A sudden voice caught Olivia’s attention and held her in place.
“My mother saw her aboard the ship. She said at first she couldn’t recognize her because she looked so plain, but upon closer inspection, it really was the Duchess. Apparently, she came with just a maid.”
“Johann’s wife—she was stunningly beautiful. Should I go meet her once?”
“You’re mad.”
A giggle drifted toward Olivia’s spot, intermingled with cigar smoke. The unfamiliar scent blended burnt wood with sweet chocolate.
“We’ve got to admit—among brunettes, such a beauty is rare.”
“She’s more of a delicate, doe-like elegance than openly sensual.”
Bored by the unnecessarily prolonged gossip, Edgar sipped his whiskey soda while calmly taking in the surrounding scenery.
He passed over the verdant grass court, slipped past a group of ladies adorned in spring-bright, colorful dresses, and reached the entrance to the riverside path, shaded by a wall of greenery—when suddenly Edgar’s gaze halted.
“Her eyes are lovely. That blue stands out even more because of her fair skin—just like that woman there. Wait… that woman…?”
“That woman? Who?”
The noisy group all turned their eyes in unison toward the same figure. Someone let out a sharp whistle.
“Bingo!”
Incredibly, it was her—Olivia Blanchet.
Edgar Lancaster Lancelot’s eyes narrowed.
Beneath the shade of a great tree, where light and shadow crossed in surreal contrast, stood the woman—composed and still. The woman who had caused so much talk, the former wife of Johann.
The idle men instantly burst into noisy chatter again.
“Maybe she just looks like her?”
“Of course it must be. Had she known about the history between Johann and Edgar, she never would’ve come to this hotel—never. There’s honor among men.”
“Why honor after divorce? Maybe she’s here to screw Johann over.”
The loafers cackled once more.
They raised their glasses lightly toward her, as if proposing a toast.
Noticing their attention, the startled woman quickly turned and hurried off with her maid, her flared skirt rippling with each hastened step.
[This is the timeline separator]“We’ve confirmed the guest list. It’s indeed Miss Olivia Blanchet.”
“I see.”
Without lifting his eyes from the documents he was reviewing, Edgar murmured softly.
Olivia.
Edgar rolled the resonant name on his tongue as he twirled his pen.
Had Johann’s wife looked like that?
She remained beautiful—yet nowhere could he find the slightest trace of the outcast she’d once been in the Kingdom of Rhondos.
Most of all, the woman he’d seen before had never had eyes like those.
Her face was striking enough to be remembered instantly, even upon a first glance.
If there was anything about her that matched Johann’s caliber among all the criteria for marriage, it was that face—that lovely face alone.
Had he seen her two or three times?
Even in those fleeting, almost meaningless encounters, it wasn’t her drunkenness that left a strong impression—it was her face, glimpsed through the loose strands of deep brown hair.
Especially those sorrowful blue eyes, like skies heavy with storm clouds.
“What do you think her motive is?”
Edgar asked his aide, Gerald.
Despite having played tennis and drunk since midday, his smile was refreshingly crisp. A recent shower added a clean, invigorating scent to his already sharp presence.
“Revenge against her ex-husband, perhaps?”
“Revenge, you say…?”
“I suspect she’s here to strike a deal with you using confidential documents—stabbing her ex in the back and cashing in for herself.”
“Do you think so?”
Edgar signed the report with elegant strokes, slipped his fountain pen into its holder, and lifted his gaze.
“Otherwise, why else would she come here?”
Edgar’s lips curled silently upward.
Such a petty scheme didn’t suit her. The depth in her eyes, filled with untold stories, left no room for greed.
Whatever her reason, the woman had injected a thrilling spark into his otherwise dull life—and that wasn’t unwelcome.
“Send her an invitation. To Lady Blanchet.”
It didn’t matter whether the cards she held were Leopold Corporation’s confidential files or something else entirely.
Even a night’s amusement wouldn’t be undesirable—she was beautiful, after all.
And if it happened to unsettle Johann’s composure, all the better.
[This is the timeline separator]“Those people seemed to know the Duke, didn’t they?”
“According to the Great Hill maids, His Grace studied abroad in Britte. He must’ve kept in contact.”
Anne replied while tying the ribbon on Olivia’s nightgown.
“I see.”
She tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled faintly.
The novel’s narrator had been Clara, the heroine.
Thus, anything outside Clara’s interests remained unknown even to her.
And since Clara’s sole interest had been Crown Prince Christian—though in the end, it was Johann Leopold who won her heart.
“She seemed quite popular with the ladies. Did you recognize anyone, Anne?”
“I’m rather ignorant about such matters…”
Though gossip among the upper class rarely failed to reach the maids’ ears, it was a world distant from Anne’s own. Reading newspapers or gossip columns was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Anne, who had always followed her young mistress like a shadow, couldn’t take her eyes off Olivia for even a moment.
Her mistress was perpetually precarious. Only when Olivia finally fell asleep after receiving a sedative following a seizure could Anne feel a sliver of freedom.
At such times, Anne silently cleaned up Olivia’s messes alone. To the staff of the Duke’s household, Olivia was always like the depths of winter.
Now, Anne gently combed Olivia’s lush hair. The brush glided smoothly down the silken strands.
Olivia sat quietly like a well-behaved child, surrendering her hair to Anne while lost in thought.
Awakening to this world of the novel at the moment of death no longer mattered. What mattered was how she would live.
She wore Olivia’s shell—but never wished to spend her life as Olivia Blanchet.
Especially not the life of a woman falsely accused of murder out of jealousy over her husband’s lover, sentenced to execution.
Thus, she had divorced without hesitation. She wanted nothing to do with anything linked to Johann.
Somewhere beyond Johann Leopold’s reach—somewhere no one knew Olivia Blanchet.
That was precisely why she’d crossed the ocean instead of staying within the continent’s many nations. Yet already, one of those safeguards had crumbled.
What should she do?
Should she confront it, flee, or simply pretend not to notice?
Her interlaced fingertips trembled faintly. No clear answer emerged.
She’d only ever wanted to live quietly, peacefully.
“There—done, Miss.”
Shaking off her unresolved thoughts at Anne’s voice, Olivia rose with a bright smile.
“Thank you, Anne.”
As Olivia headed toward the bed, a knock sounded at the door. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was nine in the evening—the time for the hotel’s evening tea.
Anne opened the door and accepted a tray from the room attendant.
On the silver tray lay an elegant teapot set alongside a luxurious envelope tied with a golden ribbon. The attendant, adding a courteous note that it was an invitation to a ball, bowed politely and departed.
“Shall I open it?”
At Anne’s question, Olivia, seated at the table, gave a small nod.
Pulling the golden ribbon—matching the hotel’s decor—she broke the red sealing wax and revealed an invitation edged in gold leaf.
*The Rose Ball.* The formal script declared it an honor to invite her to the Lancelot Hotel’s annual tradition held each May in the Rose Garden.
“It’s this Saturday.”
Olivia silently read on. Beneath time and venue, a dress code was specified.
“Are you a rose?”
They wanted her to dress like a rose in a garden brimming with them. She smiled softly—wasn’t it excessive? One might not tell the flowers from the guests.
“…Will you attend?”
Anne asked cautiously, recalling the incident in the cafeteria.
“No.”
Olivia’s answer was short and light. Smiling in a way that lifted even the observer’s mood, she lifted her teacup.
She understood the invitation was a low trick.
A reminder to a woman who’d once unworthily occupied a noble seat of her current standing. And surely, the ball needed amusement—she’d be their laughter’s source.
Olivia had no desire to walk willingly into becoming their sacrificial lamb.
Whether it was the women intent on humiliating her or the men exchanging crude jokes about her—avoiding the breeding ground of ugly rumors was the wisest course.
[This is the timeline separator]Johann Leopold visited the riding club for the first time in a long while.
He’d intended to avoid public appearances outside work until the divorce scandal settled—but as always, life refused to follow one’s intentions.
Then again, when had anything ever gone his way?
Their divorce had become gossip as heated as their marriage.
Three weeks had passed, yet sensational, unverified reports still dominated front-page headlines—especially those resurfacing stories of Olivia Blanchet’s alleged lovers.
*“Olivia Blanchet Spotted in Agent Kingdom with Her Second Lover”*
*“Duchess Leopold Flees with Painter Lover in Romantic Escape”*
Loafing noblemen gathered in groups, whispering—until Johann appeared, prompting them to offer perfunctory greetings while scrutinizing his expression.
Pathetic bastards.
Johann strode across the lounge and leapt lightly onto his saddle.
Unlike Johann, his horse—long deprived of a good run—snorted excitedly and began galloping with vigor. Atop the charging horse, Johann squinted against the blinding sun hanging over the distant treetops.
*“Please grant me a divorce.”*
His wife’s quiet voice echoed in his head.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
_____
Please help me, I want to bring you the best possible things.
If you find any chapter or novel with poor translation and editing quality, let me know by commenting directly under that novel or chapter. I will retranslate it as soon as possible.
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
This story deserves more hype. People should know more about this.
Sounds like someone is planning to make a misunderstanding between our couple
Here we go again, poor Olivia always getting hurt by men