Chapter 20

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 20

Chapter Title: Shameless Genes

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The fool who had been chattering away wildly toppled over from Johann's sudden strike in his unguarded state.

"That... that bastard. I didn't say anything wrong— Aak!"

They said if your head was dumb, your body would suffer. Johann kicked the smug face of his cousin, who still hadn't grasped the mood, sending blood splattering everywhere.

"Keep going."

Muttering lowly, Johann yanked at his tie. Strength poured into his right foot as it pressed firmly against his cousin's chest.

So, if your head was dumb, you at least needed some tact. Johann looked down at his wriggling cousin under his shoe with cold indifference and sneered.

"How old are you to still be brawling like kids? Come on, calm down now."

One cousin with a shred of tact tried to change the atmosphere.

Johann released him then. The cousin who had risen to counterattack clenched his fists and trembled under Johann's ruthless gaze. Johann straightened his tie as if nothing had happened.

"Have a drink. Johann."

"Next time."

Johann gave a barely perceptible nod and turned away.

"That jerk's picking a fight with me for no reason."

Johann halted mid-turn and slowly glanced back over his shoulder.

"Baikal Steel."

His cousin's flushed red face drained of color in an instant.

"Think hard about how to behave if you want to keep your CEO seat."

With that curt advice, Johann left the party hall.

"What's his deal today?"

There was plenty to say if asked why, but he decided to ignore the grumbled complaints from behind.

Idiots without a clue.

The Crown Prince was trying to sell him off to the Krantz princess. His grandmothers were attempting to pawn him to a wallflower who only danced quadrilles even with the 20th century looming. No wonder he wasn't amused. And on top of that, his ex-wife.

Johann leaned back deeply into the carriage seat, propping his elbow on the window frame.

He stared indifferently at the crimson lights stretching tails as they whisked by the dark window, then shifted his gaze to the newspaper tossed on the seat.

Olivia.

The front page of a notorious tabloid featured a massive photo of the woman who had been his wife kissing Edgar.

The image, distorted by the red glow of streetlamps piercing the darkness, looked intensely provocative.

Rational suspicion branched out menacingly once more.

When had it started?

Veins bulged sharply on the back of Johann's hand. The slender frame crumpled pitifully in his grip.

The black carriage, escaping the flashy city lights, crossed the Red Bridge and wound up the twisting hill road.

Great Hill stood alone in the darkness, brightly lit, visible through the carriage window.

After navigating a bit further through ranks of dark trees, the carriage slowly curved into the mansion's driveway toward the entrance. The butler and footmen, awaiting their master's late return, stood in formation.

"Welcome home, sir."

As the carriage halted and Johann descended, the butler followed his greeting by announcing an uninvited guest.

"The Earl Blanchett is here."

Johann's gaze, ascending the entrance steps languidly, drifted momentarily into space before settling on the butler over his shoulder.

"Whiskey, not tea."

In a voice thick with fatigue, Johann issued the brief order.

Ascending the stairs once more, Johann let out a low chuckle. He was recalling the photo of Olivia he'd seen in the carriage.

How utterly shameless.

His mood soured further.

The timing for Olivia's grandfather to visit Johann wasn't ideal. It seemed tactlessness and lack of shame ran in that family.

Olivia calmly tilted the teapot over the empty cup. The room was quiet, sunlight slanting golden through the windows. Moments later, she broke the silence.

"Why haven't you mentioned the necklace?"

Glancing at the necklace case on the table's edge, Olivia turned her head and asked.

"I didn't think it was important."

"A tacit courtesy?"

"An outdated custom. Breaking it is part of my job."

Olivia looked at Madam Lauren's bold gaze and sighed softly, at a loss for words.

"I'm an artist, but also a merchant."

"You used me."

Olivia struck at the heart of it.

Anne Juber.

This jewel was now known across the continent, beyond Britt.

Even Princess Annblin's outfit photo from last year had been printed alongside Olivia's for comparison, dragging a designer dead for fifty years back into the fray, disturbing her peace.

Inquiries flooded Eve Lauren Boutique to rent the sensational necklace—of course, paired with matching dress orders.

Madam Lauren composed her expression and spoke again.

"I didn't expect such a photo to be taken. The hotel bans reporters, but how can you perfectly block those hyena-like scum? You know better than anyone, Miss Blanchett."

Madam Lauren subtly mocked by reminding her of the scandal Olivia had orchestrated to marry Johann. Olivia was dumbfounded.

"If you hadn't struck such an ambiguous pose to begin with, no scandal would've erupted."

"This necklace proved who I am."

"I'm sorry about that."

Madam Lauren gripped her teacup. A massive emerald on her second finger shot out proud blue rays, haughty as her demeanor.

"It was just a coincidental mishap. It'll be forgotten soon. People's memories aren't that great."

Olivia wasn't worried about strangers whose faces she didn't know.

Johann Leopold. Her ex-husband.

Olivia wanted to be forgotten by that man. But fearing she hadn't unnerved her.

Madam Lauren took the necklace and left, leaving silence in the room. Her eyes fell on the half-folded newspaper beside the cold coffee cup, its photo glaring.

Unbelievable.

Olivia's cheeks flushed.

The clear scene of lips meeting left no room for excuses, embarrassingly vivid. They hadn't actually kissed, but it sure looked that way.

After glaring at the paper for a while, Olivia flipped it over and buried her face in her hands.

Did he see it?

He'd always been a busy man. One indifferent to his wife, utterly apathetic to everything but work.

Right. He might not have seen it.

No. Even if he did... he probably wouldn't care.

Such self-justification, born of escapism though it was, brought momentary peace. Embracing positivity, tasks ahead lined up in her mind.

Briar.

It was time to leave Lancelot Hotel.

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

Olivia had her abundant hair cut into a neat bob. She wore a plain brown dress and pulled on an undecorated bonnet typical of ordinary maids, deep over her head.

She looked like any common maid.

According to Maid Marie, who had served breakfast, reporters were swarming the hotel's main entrance since the ball.

"They won't recognize me, right?"

"You look like a completely different person."

Olivia nodded in satisfaction at the mirror.

She surveyed the luxurious room. At its end stood Maid Marie. Olivia thanked her.

"Anne. Let's go."

Gripping the leather trunk's handle firmly, Olivia said.

"Yes, miss."

The two, packed lightly, left the room. Thick fog shrouded the view of the beautiful garden beyond the glass.

The fog thickened further as they rode the carriage to the station.

"She went to Litton Central Station."

"I see."

Edgar nodded lightly, his eyes intrigued by the green shoes in the box.

That night of the Rose Ball, the woman who fled in surprise had tiny feet.

"What time's the train?"

"1 p.m., sir."

"Right. Cutting it close."

Edgar smiled satisfactorily and signaled his aide could leave. As the door closed, his gaze turned to the newspaper spread before him.

A quite satisfying photo.

Anyone could see them as lovers lost in passion. The woman more desperately eager.

I hope Johann likes it too.

Even four days later, the scandal's momentum raged. Linking it to the princess amplified it. Not that he'd planned that far.

Edgar's lips curved long.

This proved Olivia Blanchett's newsworthiness.

The Dumblin arena nearing completion, and the tennis tournament there. His five-year project's fruition was imminent.

Use her moderately, enjoy her moderately.

Olivia Blanchett was perfectly suited for that.

Edgar closed the box of shoes awaiting their owner. As the gems' sparkle vanished on green satin, a knock sounded.

"Princess Annblin Grace Brita has arrived."

Edgar narrowed his eyes.

When the princess divorced and returned to Britt, he'd thought little of it. Theirs was an ended fling, one of many women passing through his life.

But Annblin Grace Brita seemed different.

"Tea, please."

His secretary left, and the princess entered.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced."

She looked genuinely apologetic.

"You know, and yet here you are."

Edgar rose, circled the desk, and approached her.

"Have a seat, Your Highness."

Edgar greeted casually and lounged back on the reception sofa.

"I couldn't sleep a wink last night."

"Why."

What act would she perform today?

Edgar already felt bored. He crossed his long legs for ultimate comfort.

Under her ex-lover's cold eyes, Annblin fidgeted her lips before finally speaking.