I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 81: A Dawn Without Her

Cedric Alistair.

"To hell with my life," Olivia cursed inwardly, her pulse thumping unevenly against her jugular. Why must I face this lunatic now?

"Could you please move your hands?" she said aloud, her voice cold enough to frost the air.

Cedric withdrew his arms, stepping back to face her with a theatrical flourish. "What a chilling greeting, my sweet," he mused, his obsidian eyes dancing with a manic glint.

"You’re still a scoundrel, I see," she hissed. "Keep your distance."

"Now, now, let’s keep our tempers in check. You’re still as sharp-tongued and exquisite as ever—so beautiful, in fact, that I find myself wanting to lock you in a gilded cage just to admire you every single day."

Olivia fell silent. Despite his playful smile, the underlying malice in his voice sent a shiver of pure dread down her spine.

He wasn’t joking; Cedric was the type of man who would turn a person into a statue just to keep them from walking away.

"Where are the Duke and Elvira?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "And why are you the only one here?"

The answer came not from Cedric, but from the creak of a floorboard above.

Her father descended the staircase with a predatory elegance, a glass of deep red wine—the color of fresh blood—cradled in his hand. He looked like a god of shadows presiding over his dark kingdom.

Cedric instinctively recoiled, his playful demeanor vanishing instantly. He moved toward the door to exit, but as he passed Olivia, he leaned in for one final, frantic whisper:

"Do not provoke him. He is beyond furious."

The Duke stopped before her, swirling the wine in his glass. "You were wondering where I was? Has my daughter truly missed me that much?"

Olivia offered no reply. His gaze alone was enough to pin her soul to the floor. He began to circle her like a shark sensing blood in the water.

"Hmm... such a cold stare. It has been quite some time since we last met. Will you not embrace me?"

Knowing that defiance would only invite a more brutal correction, Olivia stepped forward. She forced herself into the hollow shell of a hug, her skin crawling as she touched him.

As she pulled away, his hands stayed on her, beginning to channel a suffocating, pitch-black energy into her body.

The sensation was like liquid lead coursing through her veins, clashing violently with the poison already in her system.

"You and Serine," he whispered, his voice a low, vibrating growl near her ear, "you have both learned to oppose me in such fascinating ways. You’ve begun to break your word."

"And it seems you’re living a sweet little romance with that mongrel Duke. Have you forgotten where your loyalty truly lies?"

The black energy surged. Olivia’s eyes flew wide as a fresh torrent of blood erupted from her mouth, splashing onto the cold floor.

The agony in her spine reached a crescendo, her nerves screaming in protest. Her legs finally gave way, and she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

Blood erupted from her mouth, staining the cold floor a gruesome crimson. Every nerve in her body felt like it was being flayed by jagged glass.

Damn it, she hissed internally, her fingers clawing at the stone. If it weren’t for the antidote, I would never have stepped foot in this hellhole. I have to endure... I must.

Her father sank into a plush velvet chair, watching her agonizing spasms with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing an insect.

"Do not ever dare to plant a spy in my palace again," he said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "If I didn’t still have a use for you, I would have ended your life the moment you walked through that door. So..."

His eyes turned into abyssal voids, devoid of any trace of humanity. "Tell me. Where is Serine?"

"I... I don’t know," Olivia gasped, the words bubbling through the blood in her throat. She tried to maintain her mask of ignorance, but he was on her in a flash.

He gripped her face with bone-crushing force, tilting her head back to lock onto her gaze.

"It matters not if you confess now," he whispered harshly. "I will find that whore sooner or later. But for now..."

He stood up, pulling a small glass vial from his vest. With a cruel, deliberate grace, he walked to the far corner of the expansive room and placed it on a pedestal.

He checked his pocket watch, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. "I have no more time to waste on you. I have a dear wife to find, as you well know. You may cling to your silence as long as you wish."

He turned at the door, his silhouette framed by the dim hallway light.

"Do you see that vial? That is your salvation. Crawl for it, Olivia. Crawl like the serpent you are. It is, after all, your natural state."

With a click of his heels, he vanished into the night, leaving her collapsed on the floor, her body trembling and barely able to stir as the poison continued its relentless march toward her heart.

Olivia began to crawl, her fingernails clawing at the freezing floor, carving jagged lines through the dust and leaving a gruesome trail of crimson behind.

Each labored breath was a struggle against the tide of blood rising in her throat, and every inch forward felt like a mile of sheer agony.

Damn it... damn this weakness, she cursed inwardly, dragging her shattered frame toward the far corner. I must reach it. Time is running out, and this wretched body can barely hold my soul.

With a final, desperate surge of will, her trembling fingers curled around the glass vial. She downed the bitter liquid in a single gulp.

Almost instantly, a chilling frost raced through her veins, extinguishing the fire of the poison. The excruciating pain began to recede, but the sheer exhaustion that followed was a crushing weight.

The world grew silent, her vision blurred into a pale, hazy white, and as she finally succumbed to the darkness, she felt two powerful arms lift her frail body from the floor.

Her fading consciousness, however, could not tell her who they belonged to.

Outside, the Duke adjusted his gloves, casting a glacial look at Cedric.

"Cedric, still lingering? It would be wise for you to depart immediately."

Cedric crossed his arms, his expression a mask of stony indifference. "Yes... I shall be gone soon."

He waited until the Duke’s carriage had vanished into the night before storming back into the house.

"Damn that old man," he muttered under his breath, his eyes darkening as he took in Olivia’s broken state. "If I hadn’t been here, he would have let her die on this floor."

He knelt beside her, lifting her with a gentleness that was entirely foreign to his nature, and carried her straight to his private estate.

There, in his personal chambers, he laid her upon the silken sheets of his bed. He sat in a nearby chair, watching her pale features in the absolute silence of the night.

She looked like a marble statue—exquisite, fragile, and hauntingly still.

"Beautiful... so very beautiful," he whispered, reaching out to catch a stray lock of her hair and pressing a long, lingering kiss to it.

"Do not worry, my dear. I will take you back from that wretch Luceron. Soon, you will realize that you belong to me alone. You are mine, Olivia."

He turned toward his assistant, who stood like a ghost in the shadows behind him, a diabolical smirk spreading across his face.

"Send a message to our dear Duke of Luceron immediately. Inform him that his precious wife is currently my guest."

I would dearly love to see the look on his face when he realizes who Olivia truly belongs to.

- - -

On the other side of the estate, the night had been an agonizing marathon for Isabella. She paced the length of the hall, her footsteps a restless rhythm against the cold stone, unable to find a moment’s peace. Finally, she turned to Keira, her eyes wide with mounting dread.

"Kira... are you absolutely certain she will be alright? Is it truly common for Olivia to seek out her father at such a ghostly hour?"

Kira maintained a mask of practiced composure. "I have known her ladyship for many years, and this is far from her first encounter with him. Do not fret; she gave her word she would return before the break of dawn, and she is not one to let a promise wither."

Despite the reassurance, Isabella remained unconvinced. She drifted back to the window, her gaze searching the horizon again and again as the hours slowed to a agonizing crawl. The sun eventually began its ascent, painting the sky in mocking hues of gold, yet there was still no sign of Olivia.

"Kira!" Isabella finally snapped, her voice cracking as she turned on the maid. "You insisted she would be back before dawn! It is nine in the morning—where is she?"

The maid bowed her head, her voice trembling with a newfound fear. "I am deeply sorry, Lady Isabella. Truly, I am at a loss. It is entirely unlike her to be this late."

The sudden, heavy rumble of a carriage at the entrance sent Isabella racing toward the doors with reckless abandon, praying to find Olivia stepping out. Instead, she found only Matthias and Leon. They climbed down from the carriage, looking weathered and grim after a long, exhausting night at the Imperial Palace.

Isabella looked at them with a hollow, desperate expression. Leon, instantly noticing the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the tremor in her hands, rushed to her side.

"What is it? Has something happened?" he asked urgently.

Matthias froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as a cold intuition took hold. "My sister-in-law? Has something happened to Olivia?"

Isabella swallowed hard, caught in a suffocating web of secrets. Please forgive me, Olivia, she whispered to herself, but I cannot carry this alone.

She looked up at Matthias, her voice barely a breath. "Brother-in-law... Olivia has not returned to the palace since last night."

The air around Matthias seemed to turn to ice. He took a predatory step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "What do you mean, she hasn’t returned? Where exactly did she go?"