Olivia froze, trying to avoid his gaze, which seemed to pierce her like a focused arrow. But he didn't give her a chance to escape. His voice grew more challenging:
"What? Don't you like being an aunt? The baby looks just like you… isn't she beautiful?"
In a flash of anger, she yanked the compress off, sat up quickly, adjusting her posture with obvious discomfort. She spoke with a mix of anger and frustration:
"So, you know?"
"What do you mean?" He responded with a feigned innocent tone.
She glared at him and said:
"Stop playing games. You know she's Kyle's daughter, don't you?"
Matheus smiled quietly, saying nothing, as though his silence alone was enough of an answer.
She shouted in frustration:
"Who told you?"
He raised his glass, which he had filled with a little wine, and replied coolly:
"It's obvious without needing anyone to tell me."
A heavy silence fell between them, both lost in their own thoughts. Matheus opened the wine bottle and poured more into his glass. He took a small sip, then smiled faintly and said:
"Sorry. I was going to offer you a drink, but considering what happened tonight... I don't think it's a good idea."
Olivia stared at him, trying to decipher him, while he simply wore a calm smile, as if everything was proceeding exactly as he had planned.
"So, what do you intend to do?" Olivia asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and anxiety.
Matthias sighed, as though reordering his thoughts before answering in a calm, yet sharp tone:
"Well, it's not my life. They're free; they can do whatever they want, but..."
She cut him off quickly, "But what?"
His eyes locked with hers, his expression stern and unyielding.
"They must divorce."
Her eyes widened in disbelief, as though she had heard the most absurd thing.
"Divorce? What do you mean?"
He paused for a moment, weighing his words before speaking again.
"Well, they will have to divorce sooner or later."
Questions flickered across her face as she tried to grasp what he was saying.
"I don't understand. Why would they divorce? They have a child, don't they?"
Matthias replied without hesitation, his voice firm.
"I didn't bring this up for us to discuss the reasons behind their divorce. I want you to convince Layla to divorce."
Her brows shot up in shock.
"Me? Why me and not you?"
He smiled faintly and added,
"Well, I heard from the servants that you two get along well. I think she trusts you. And you're a woman—she'll listen to you more than to a man. Don't worry, I'll give you anything you ask for: jewelry, dresses, land. It's simply a deal."
Olivia felt the flames of anger flare within her. Had she been the old Olivia, the one who would do anything to please her father, she would have agreed without a second thought. But she was no longer that woman. She let out a bitter laugh.
"The same person who said they're free to decide their own lives, now wants to impose a divorce on them? This is laughable."
Matthias replied coldly, his words like an arrow striking a sensitive nerve.
"Hah, since when did the money slave start caring about others' lives?"
She inhaled deeply, trying to rein in her fury.
"I don't care, but my little brother is involved in this. So, I'll intervene, just as you intervene in your little sister's life."
He raised an eyebrow mockingly.
"Your little brother? Has he suddenly become your brother now?"
His words pierced her heart. Since growing up, she had never truly considered Kyle as her little brother, despite his desperate attempts to win her approval. She felt regret creeping into her heart, but it was quickly hidden behind the growing wall of her anger.
"Why this strange insistence on their divorce?"
He answered calmly, as though the matter were self-evident to him.
"There are many reasons. Simply put, she is common, and he is from a royal family. Nobles and commoners cannot be together."
Olivia fell silent, but she knew all too well the impact of class differences on people's lives. The royal family was ruthless, and Layla being a part of it meant she would be like a lamb placed among wolves.
Matthias continued.
"Layla did everything to become a doctor and live her life as she wished. I don't want her to throw away everything she worked for just because she married into the royal family. You know they won't let her work as heir."
His words were like an undeniable harsh truth, but Olivia found herself replying instinctively.
"He loves her. He should be with his wife and daughter."
Matthias laughed sarcastically, his laugh more painful than any word he had spoken.
"You know, I never expected to hear you speak a word like 'love.' What's this, Duchess of Lecron? Have you suddenly become kind?"
His mockery was deeply aggravating. Olivia felt her anger rise, to the point where she clenched her fists tightly, leaving small cuts from her nails in her palms.
"He can take his daughter. I have no objection. My sister has a life to live. She's wanted to be a doctor since she was a child. And now that she has finally achieved her dream, I won't let her bury herself just because she made a mistake and married."
Olivia suddenly stood up, slamming her fist onto the table with fury.
"I've had enough of you, Matthias. You really disgust me. Do you want to separate a mother from her child?"
Tears glistened in her eyes as she recalled the memory of the child she had lost. Her voice choked as she added,
"You truly don't deserve to be a father. Maybe that's why your mother never wanted to see you, even after your father's death."
Matthias looked at her coldly, his expression blank, before speaking in a calm yet cutting tone.
"It seems our discussion won't lead anywhere. Anyway, it's late. You should go to sleep."
She raised her chin defiantly and said,
"Yes, I will."
Olivia left the office, slamming the door behind her. She trembled with anger, her thoughts crashing in her head like waves. "I can't believe I feel regret for not being more considerate of this bastard."
he couldn't close her eyes, not even for a fleeting moment. The fires of anger burned deep within her, like embers fanned into flames, simmering beneath the surface. The night stretched endlessly, and only when the dawn began to break did light creep into her room. Her eyes, ringed with dark shadows, told the tale of sleepless hours, weighted not just by exhaustion but by the ceaseless churn of thoughts that refused to quiet.
Kira entered softly, her footsteps light as if not to disturb the fragile silence. In her hands, she carried a basin of water, and with a voice tinged with hesitation, she spoke:
"My lady… it's morning. Please, you must wake."
But the sight before her froze her in place. There sat Olivia, poised on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, already dressed and seemingly ready for the day. It was as if she hadn't touched a bed in days. Her eyes were piercing, alight with a fierce intensity, and her presence exuded an air of unease that made the room feel colder. Her pale, weary face only heightened the sharpness of her aura.
Kira called again, her voice softer, laced with uncertainty:
"My lady… My lady?"
Still, there was no response. Gathering her courage, Kira stepped closer, positioning herself directly in Olivia's line of sight. Finally, Olivia stirred, lifting her gaze slowly. Her voice, when it came, was cold and devoid of vitality:
"Ah, Kira, it seems you've arrived. As you can see, I'm already prepared. There's no need for you. You may leave."
Kira steadied herself, masking her concern, and asked gently
"Very well, but what about breakfast? Shall I bring it here for you?"
Olivia waved her hand dismissively, her movements languid and detached.
"No… I'm not hungry."
Despite the clear dismissal, Kira's eyes darted to the cluttered table nearby. Empty bottles of wine were scattered across its surface, silent witnesses to a long night spent drowning in her sorrows.
Summoning her courage, Kira spoke again, her voice low and trembling:
"My lady, forgive my boldness, but… you grow thinner by the day. You haven't eaten in three days. Yesterday, you left without breakfast, and when you returned, you didn't touch any food."
Olivia let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of the world. Kira braced herself for reproach, expecting to be reprimanded for overstepping. But Olivia's response came, devoid of anger, and tinged instead with a chilling indifference:
"I simply have no appetite, Kira. And I've had enough wine to suffice. There's no need for food. You needn't worry about me."
Kira stood there momentarily, watching her mistress, who seemed to be crumbling under the weight of invisible burdens. Olivia, once a formidable presence, now looked like a tower on the verge of collapse, its foundation cracking beneath unseen pressure.
Without another word, Kira lowered her head respectfully and left the room. She left Olivia alone, surrounded by the lingering scent of wine and the oppressive silence of her thoughts.
Shortly after, Kira returned to Olivia, knocking lightly on the door as if she feared stirring a storm.
Olivia lifted her head, her exhaustion palpable, and snapped sharply,
"What is it now?"
Kira hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
"My lady... His Highness, the Crown Prince, is here. He requests to see you."
Olivia's eyes widened in disbelief, and she leapt to her feet as if a volcano had erupted inside her.
"What? He's here? Where is he?"
Kira stepped back, startled by the intensity of her mistress's reaction.
"He's in the guest chamber, Milady."
"And Lady Lila, where is she?"
Kira blinked, confused by the sudden inquiry.
"She's in her room as usual. Why do you ask?"
Olivia didn't answer. Instead, she bolted toward the guest chamber, her heart pounding violently as if fearing she had already delayed too long.
But when she arrived, it was too late. The door was partially ajar, and through the small gap, she could see the scene: Kyle, His Highness the Crown Prince, standing face-to-face with Lila.