An Incomplete Divorce - Chapter 22

“You seem to be shamelessly unaware of this topic. How dare someone like you insult my son?”

He withdrew his suddenly swung hand and loosened his cravat while breathing heavily.

Olivia clutched her swollen cheek and glared at the count.

“Since when did you become so well-spoken? Did you speak like this to your husband too? Is that why you were driven out, for talking back so clearly?”

Count Blanchet, who had been shouting, suddenly turned around. He yelled at the servants standing behind him.

“Beat that one.”

The tip of the black cane pointed at none other than Anne.

Anne was crouched on the floor, curled up with her head buried in her chest, shielding it with both hands and trembling. Shocked by this sight, Olivia glared at the count and said,

“Don’t do this to Anne.”

“I heard you received a large alimony. Bring it here.”

“Count!”

“Do you want your maid to die?”

Olivia glared at Count Blanchet. His overbearing gaze grew increasingly fierce.

“I’m fine. Please don’t give it to him. My la- Ah!”

The count’s cane aimed at Anne’s head, and the frightened Anne let out a groan as she clutched her head. Before it could touch Anne’s body, Olivia quickly snatched the cane away.

“Money. I’ll give it to you, so don’t touch her.”

As she swallowed her hot anger, Olivia’s eyes welled up with clear tears.

Count Blanchet looked into those blue eyes.

Elena.

‘I will definitely give birth to this child. I must.’

Her porcelain-white skin made them appear even bluer. His beloved daughter who used to run to him with her fine dark brown hair flying, throwing herself into his arms. That’s why he felt an even greater sense of betrayal and anger consuming him.

How could you, after all I’ve done to raise you.

‘I’m sorry, Father. But it’s not that man’s child. Please let me have it. Please!’

Getting pregnant with your friend’s husband and dragging our family name through the mud!

As his eyes met Olivia’s, Count Blanchet’s time went back twenty years.

“Grab her.”

A shrill voice cracked out. His eyes lost focus as he lost his senses.

Two strong men grabbed Olivia, restraining her so she couldn’t move an inch.

A hand as dry as a winter tree roughly grabbed Olivia’s hair.

Anne came running with a scream, half-crouched to shield Olivia.

Anne collapsed helplessly from the count’s harsh punch. As usual, the beating began with fierce curses.

Count Blanchet often confronted his once-beloved daughter, Elena, in this way.

Olivia. Olivia.

Even after the divorce, that name constantly swirled around Johan, irritating him.

That damned Olivia Blanchet, everywhere he went.

Today’s newspaper also inevitably had her occupying a corner of the page.

If his ex-wife’s love scandal had broken out in Rondos, he would have stopped it long ago. The repercussions he couldn’t prevent from across the sea were extremely tiresome.

“Now, could you look here once, please?”

The photographer directed Johan’s bored gaze towards the camera lens.

Johan, dressed in a black suit with a blue tie, relaxed his lips and stared straight ahead. His neatly combed blonde hair shone brightly in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Yes. Good. Very good. I’ll take the shot.”

The photographer couldn’t hide his excitement in front of the perfect subject. The photographer disappeared behind the black cover, counted to three, and pop, the flash went off. Everything went dark before his eyes.

‘I love you, Johan.’

At that moment, Olivia’s voice echoing in his mind made Johan frown.

Damn it.

With the addition of the photo taken with Edgar, his displeasure soared indescribably. Johan closed his eyes for a moment. Seeing this, the reporter gulped nervously.

What’s displeasing him?

Sweat formed on his hand gripping the pen.

A legendary figure who succeeded in every business venture with outstanding animal instincts. Noble Randos bloodline. And handsome to boot.

God is unfair.

That was the conclusion reporter Harrison came to. He wanted to cast a vote for it being extremely unfair.

Eventually, Johan slowly opened his eyes. A slight redness surrounded his ash-gray eyes, characteristic of royalty, as if he hadn’t slept well.

Johan leaned back languidly.

“Let’s begin.”

Johan announced the start of the interview in a low voice.

“Yes.”

Ahem, reporter Harrison cleared his throat, which had become hoarse from waiting for Johan, and shifted his gaze to the question sheet.

“I heard that the Leopold Hotel opening in Ritten will be the largest in the Brit Kingdom. Is this another part of your offensive management strategy aimed at Lancelot Company?”

An indifferent gaze turned towards the reporter. Harrison tensed up and focused on Johan.

“It might be better to change the question.”

Johan calmly ordered as he crossed his long legs.

It felt like hitting a wall from the very first question.

“Ah. …Yes. Then. Again…”

The reporter’s mind stumbled at the sudden request.

What displeased him? Was it the name Lancelot that bothered him? After a few moments of self-questioning, the reporter opened his mouth, watching Johan’s reaction.

“Is the Ritten hotel project indeed part of innovative management following global trends…?”

The reporter clearly emphasized “global” and “innovative” in his question.

Johan nodded briefly to indicate affirmation.

Inwardly sighing with relief, the reporter moved on to the next question.

“Will you personally attend the opening event?”

“Probably.”

“I understand that the former Duchess Leopold is currently staying in Ritten…”

The reporter trailed off at Johan’s increasingly cold gaze, but still tried to fulfill his duty as a reporter. No, he struggled mightily to do so as he stumbled over his words.

“How do you view the, the love affair reports between Duke Edgar Lancaster Lancelot and your ex-wife…?”

To be honest, the Daily Economy’s editor-in-chief couldn’t care less whether Johan’s hotel opened or closed.

Considering the rock-bottom sales figures these days, inserting sensational gossip while pretending to be an economic paper was the only breakthrough.

“Your name?”

Johan, leaning askew on the armrest, asked the reporter while smoothing his sleek chin.

His voice was low and languid. The overwhelming pressure that flowed was too oppressive to be a simple question out of curiosity about a name.

So my name is…

Reporter Harrison had the strange experience of suddenly not being able to remember his name. At the same time, he had a strong intuition that he shouldn’t say it.

“…He, Harrison Carpenter.”

“Why do you think I agreed to this interview?”

Harrison’s heart pounded. No wonder the commute to work this morning seemed particularly beautiful. He had an ominous feeling that it might become his last trip home from work if he wasn’t careful. Harrison moistened his dry lips and stammered.

“For the purpose of promoting Leopold Hotel…”

“Then ask only questions befitting that purpose.”

Johan coldly rebuked him and checked his wristwatch by lifting his cuffs.

Only fifteen minutes had passed, but he was already terribly bored and irritated. That irritation shot like an arrow towards Morris, who was standing with his hands behind his back. Morris quickly turned his head towards the window.

After the interview ended and the reporters left, Morris approached and received the suit jacket Johan handed over.

“From now on. You do it.”

A prickly gaze flew at him.

“What’s the use of that sculpture-like face of yours? Just endure it a few more times. The opening is right around the corner. When taking photos, think of the camera as a bundle of money and smile a bit.”

Johan loosened his tie as he left the reception room and headed to his office.

“We received a message from Ritten,” Morris reported as he followed behind.

“The count met with Miss Blanchet.”

The footsteps crossing the long corridor stopped abruptly before resuming their brisk pace. Although Johan knew what Morris’s report implied, his face showed no change in emotion.

Morris set down a silver tray containing the telegram in front of Johan, who was seated at his office desk.

Johan scanned the telegram held between two fingers.

At the end of the content was a sentence asking for approval to intervene with the surveillance target in case of emergency. It implied that violence had been inflicted on Olivia last night.

So she went to see him after all.

Johan picked up a cigar with the hand that had put down the letter.

Even so, what did it have to do with him now?

“Call them off.”

“Pardon?”

Johan decided to withdraw surveillance on his divorced wife. The articles about Olivia buzzing everywhere were enough.

“But Count Blanchet-”

Surely he wouldn’t kill his own granddaughter.

And even if he did, it was no concern of Johan’s.

“Why should that matter?”

At Johan’s cold voice, Morris closed his mouth that had been fumbling for words.

That’s right. They’re strangers now. What right does he have?

Olivia Blanchet was no longer under Johan’s protection.

The Ritten branch of International Bank was quite large even within the Brit Kingdom. Olivia visited here right after the bank opened, avoiding the busy hours.

Olivia and Anne looked around, unsure where to go among the dozens of desks lined up in rows in the spacious hall.

Feeling that this drew more attention, Olivia, who had pulled her wide-brimmed bonnet low, walked to the nearest counter.

“It’s an honor to have you visit.”

The customer who barged in without even time for a cup of coffee was unwelcome. How diligent of you. The teller looked up and stared at Olivia’s face while asking perfunctorily,

“How may I help you?”

Today’s first customer looked shabby.

Perhaps some house maid who fell out of favor with her mistress and got beaten. Her face was covered in bruises and wounds all over.

Though she had tried to cover it with heavy makeup, the unusual makeup rather drew more attention because of it.

No matter how you looked at it, she didn’t appear to be a customer of this first-tier financial institution used only by nobles.

They demanded even their representatives to be neatly dressed. So this woman probably wasn’t running an errand for a noble either.

Under the teller’s gaze that seemed to be observing her, Olivia unconsciously bowed her head low as she spoke.

“I’d like to place a stop payment on an account in my name.”