I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 142: A Lucky Charm

​"I’m staying," she countered, her voice reclaiming its usual sharp edge. "Do you truly think I’ve ever listened to a word you’ve said? Don’t be ridiculous, Mathias. I am staying here tonight."

​Mathias didn’t argue. He didn’t have the strength left to fight a woman who treated his bedroom like a conquered territory. With a heavy sigh, he turned his back to her, pulling the silk sheets up as if they were a shield.

​"Suit yourself," he muttered into the darkness, his voice thick with a weariness that went bone-deep. "Just... don’t speak to me. I want to sleep."

​Silence reclaimed the room, thick and heavy. They lay there, two statues carved from ice and regret, sharing the same bed yet separated by an invisible ocean. Olivia stared at the broad expanse of his back, the tension in his shoulders radiating even through the dark.

​Damn it, she thought, a rare prickle of frustration dancing in her chest. How on earth am I supposed to appease this brooding man? I never expected him to be this genuinely furious.

​"Mathias," she whispered.

​He didn’t move. He kept his breathing rhythmic and deep, a calculated lie of sleep.

​"Mathias, I know you’re awake."

​"What?" he snapped, his voice raspy and raw. "What is it now, Olivia?"

​She hesitated, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "Thank you," she said softly. "For risking everything... for going to the Empress to restore my sight. I know it was a fool’s errand, a madness that could have cost you your head."

​In the shadows, a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of Mathias’s lips. It was a fleeting thing, born of a devotion he couldn’t kill, and he suppressed it instantly before he could lose his resolve.

​"It was my duty as your husband," he replied, his tone formal, yet the ice in it had begun to thaw. "Think nothing of it."

​He waited for her retort, for her to tell him she didn’t need a protector or to mock his ’duty.’ When the silence stretched too long, curiosity finally broke his pride. He turned over to face her, a sharp remark ready on his lips—only to find his words dying in his throat.

​Olivia was gone. Not from the room, but from the world of the conscious.

​She had fallen into a deep, sudden sleep, her silver hair fanned out across his pillow like a fallen halo. Her breathing was steady, her expression finally at peace, devoid of the masks and the ’hell’ she claimed to see.

​Mathias stared at her, caught between a laugh and a sob. He had spent the last hour bracing for a war, only for his enemy to fall asleep mid-surrender.

​"Persistent as ever," he murmured, his hand hovering inches from her face before he pulled it back. "You set my world on fire, Olivia... and then you have the audacity to sleep through the flames."

The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long, golden fingers across the bed. Olivia stirred, the lingering warmth of sleep clinging to her skin like a silk veil. As her lashes fluttered open, she didn’t find the empty room she expected.

​Instead, she found Mathias.

​He was sitting in the armchair dragged close to the bedside, his posture rigid, his emerald eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He looked as though he hadn’t moved an inch since she fell asleep.

​"Did you have a good rest?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the quiet room.

​"Hmm... yes," she murmured, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her gaze narrowed as she studied him. The dark shadows beneath his eyes were stark against his pale skin—a silent testimony to a night spent wrestling with ghosts while she slept peacefully. "And you? It’s clear you barely closed your eyes."

​Mathias’s expression hardened, the brief flicker of vulnerability from the night before vanishing behind a wall of ice. "That is none of your concern," he snapped, his voice lashing out with a sudden, renewed hostility.

​The air in the room turned frigid instantly. Olivia opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort, her pride flaring at his aggression, but the sound of urgent knocking at the door cut through the tension. The rhythm of the knocks was familiar—controlled yet frantic.

​The door creaked open, and a maid stumbled in, her face pale and her hands trembling as she held a silver tray.

​"Forgive the intrusion, My Lord... My Lady," the maid stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "But a messenger has just arrived from the palace."

​Mathias stood up,

"Speak," he commanded.

​The maid swallowed hard, her eyes darting between the two. "Her Majesty, the Empress... she has requested the immediate presence of Lady Olivia at the Great Hall. The carriage is already waiting at the gates."

​Silence fell over the room—a heavy, suffocating weight. Olivia felt a cold shiver race down her spine. The Empress didn’t ’request’ presence; she summoned pawns for her games. And after what Mathias had risked to restore her sight, this invitation felt less like an honor and more like a sentence. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Mathias’s gaze snapped to Olivia, his voice a low, warning growl. "You are not going."

​"Oh, but I am," she countered, her voice deceptively calm.

​"Have you lost your mind? You know exactly what kind of woman she is. Have you forgotten what she tried to do to Anne? What I had to do to stop her?"

​Olivia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "She is my mother, Mathias. I wouldn’t want to be an ungrateful daughter, would I? I shall go and pay my respects."

​"Olivia!" his voice thundered, the veins in his neck straining.

​"One does not simply reject an Imperial summons," she said, cutting him off. "Let us not invite more trouble; we already have more than we can carry."

​"But—"

​Before he could finish, Olivia rose from the bed. She moved toward him with a predator’s grace, closing the distance until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. She rose on her tiptoes, her silk sleeves fluttering as she draped her arms around his neck, forcing him to meet her gaze.

​"We shall finish our little quarrel later," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "But for now..."

​She pulled him down, pressing her lips against his in a kiss that was both long and devastatingly deep. It was a calculated strike, a swirl of heat and silk that left the air thin between them.

​When she finally pulled away, her lips were flushed, a small, triumphant smirk dancing in her eyes. "They say a kiss before war is a lucky charm," she murmured, her voice a silken thread. "And I have just taken mine."

​Mathias remained frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The fury that had consumed him moments ago was gone, replaced by a dazed, maddening fog.

​"Hmm... damn it, Olivia," he muttered, his voice thick. "You’ve completely distracted me."

​"I’m going to get ready," she said, stepping back with a playful wink. "Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Agreed, my dear husband?"

​She turned and swept out of the room before he could find his voice. Mathias stood alone in the silence, raking a hand through his hair and pulling it back in frustration.

​"Is she... is she actually playing with me now?" he whispered to the empty room, a mixture of disbelief and a reluctant, burning admiration in his eyes.

​The carriage rattled through the iron gates of the Imperial Palace, the rhythmic clopping of hooves sounding like a countdown to an inevitable storm. As Olivia stepped out, she was greeted by a sight that made her pause—the Great Hall was swarming with heavy-armed guards, their faces obscured by steel helms.

​"Hmm... this is new," she thought, a cold smirk playing on her lips. The atmosphere wasn’t one of a royal welcome; it was an ambush.

​She pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Empress’s private chambers. Alisha was already there, sitting with a terrifying, calculated stillness. Her gaze, as cold as a mountain peak, pierced through Olivia the moment she stepped inside.

​"So, you’ve finally arrived, Duchess of Lucron," Alisha said, her voice dripping with venom.

​Olivia didn’t bother with a curtsy or the hollow etiquette of the court. She walked toward the table and pulled out a chair, crossing one leg over the other with a defiant grace.

​"What is it that you want from me?" Olivia asked, leaning back. "And why the sudden summons?"

​Alisha’s hands tightened around the edge of the table, her knuckles white with suppressed fury. "I want my son back."

​"Your son?" Olivia let out a dry, mocking laugh. "And what does that have to do with—"

​BANG! Alisha slammed her hand against the table with such violence that the silverware rattled. "You continue to poison him against me, you wretched woman! Do you even realize who you are playing with?"

​Olivia didn’t flinch. Instead, she slowly raised her hands and covered her ears with a look of pure boredom. "Lower your voice," she murmured. "It sounds like the barking of a rabid dog."

​The insult was the final spark. In a blur of movement, Alisha seized a glass of water and flung the contents directly into Olivia’s face.

​The cold water dripped down Olivia’s silver hair, soaking the front of her gown. For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then, Olivia stood. Before Alisha could even blink, Olivia’s hand swung through the air, delivering a stinging, resounding slap that sent the Empress’s head reeling back.

​"You... you dared to slap me? I am the Empress!" Alisha shrieked, clutching her burning cheek.

​"Yes, I did. And I’ll do far worse," Olivia snarled, her blue eyes blazing with a predatory fire. "You tried to kill your own grandchild, and now you expect him to return to your arms with open hearts? You are a delusional psychopath. I swear to you, Alisha, I will make you pay a price so steep you’ll beg for the grave."

​"He is my son! He will return to me sooner or later!" Alisha screamed.

​Olivia leaned in, her smile turning ice-cold. "Oh, we shall see about that. By the way... won’t you go and greet the Duchess of Tharon? I’m quite certain she would love to see her ’old friend’ again."

​Alisha’s eyes widened in sheer, paralyzing shock. She lunged forward, grabbing Olivia by the collar of her dress, her hands trembling violently. "That’s impossible... what did you do to Kyle? Did you hurt my son?"

​Olivia looked down at the Empress’s frantic grip with pity. "Do I look like you? Why would I hurt Kyle when I can handle this myself? Isn’t that right, ’Mother’?"

​Alisha’s hands lost their strength. she stumbled back in terror, collapsing into her chair as if her bones had turned to lead. "No... it’s not possible. You... you... it can’t be."

​Olivia watched her with a frozen, triumphant smile. But the silence was shattered by the heavy thud of the doors swinging open. Olivia turned her head, and her heart skipped a beat.

​The Emperor stood there, his shadow stretching long across the floor, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the wreckage of the room.

​"Pardon me," his voice boomed, deep and dangerous. "But what, exactly, is happening here?"