I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 77: The Sound of Treason

The Emperor’s voice was a frantic attempt to tether the room to reality. "Matthias, calm yourself. I am certain this is merely a minor misunderstanding."

Matthias rose from the sofa like a dark tide, his presence dwarfing the Emperor’s attempts at diplomacy. "Calm myself?" he echoed, his voice a low, thunderous growl.

"Your Majesty, Her Majesty has dared to strike my wife before, and I allowed it to pass for the sake of peace. But not this time. If she has laid a hand on her again, you must end this farce yourself—or I will."

He was threatening the Sovereign without a shred of hesitation, a lion ready to tear the crown apart. Layla watched him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She hadn’t accounted for Matthias being here. Seeing him challenge the Emperor directly was one thing, but if she told him the full, bloody truth, he wouldn’t just be angry—he would dig his own grave with the Empress’s body.

In Matthias’s mind, the worst he imagined was another stinging slap. He had no inkling of the savagery that had actually occurred.

He strode toward Layla, his eyes burning. "Take me to her. Immediately."

"Um... of course," Layla stammered, her voice failing her. "She is in my chambers..."

He didn’t wait for her to lead. He stormed out, his heavy boots echoing like drumbeats of war down the corridor. Layla turned to the Emperor and Leon, her face pale with a terror she could no longer hide.

Leon narrowed his eyes, catching the shift in her demeanor.

"What is it, Layla? Why are you looking at us like that?"

"Brother," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You must catch him... the Empress did something far worse than a mere slap."

Meanwhile, inside the quiet dimness of Layla’s chambers, Olivia’s eyes slowly fluttered open. She stared up at the ceiling for a moment before her gaze shifted to Kyle, who was still clutching her hand, his body shaking with muffled, rhythmic sobs.

"Am I... dead?" she rasped, her voice dry as parchment.

"OLIVIA!" Kyle cried out, the sound a mixture of agony and relief.

Before she could protest, he lunged forward, pulling her into a suffocating embrace, his tears soaking into her shoulder.

"Hey, easy, big man," she wheezed, her dry wit returning even in her weakness. "You’ll break my ribs. I’m not dead yet, so why all the wailing?"

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his face a mess of grief. "You looked like a corpse half an hour ago," he whispered. "Are you alright? Is your head okay?"

He began checking her injury with frantic movements, his eyes lingering on the dark, purplish bruises encircling her throat. "Does it hurt? Layla healed the worst of it, but should I call the Royal Physician?"

Olivia watched his frantic movements with a piercing, silent clarity. Because of you, I was cast aside, she mused to herself, the thought a bittersweet sting. Yet it was never your fault. She wanted us to be enemies, to drown in mutual loathing. But look at the irony of fate—I am in your arms, and you are weeping for me. How that would rot her soul.

"Why are you smiling?" Kyle stammered, his voice thick with confusion. "This isn’t funny. You nearly died."

Her smile widened, brittle and defiant. "I don’t die from a common vase, for heaven’s sake."

"But she tried to... to..." He choked on the words, the image of his mother’s hands tight around her throat searing into his mind like a brand.

"Don’t make that face, little man. You had no part in this. Now, move aside. I’m leaving, and thank you for the help."

"Leaving? To where? You can barely stand!"

Olivia looked at him, her gaze hardening. "Kyle, move. Do you expect me to linger in the same halls as someone who wants me dead? Let me pass."

Defeated by her resolve, he stepped back. Olivia moved toward the door with heavy, labored steps, but before she could reach the handle, the Empress burst in without a word of warning.

The Empress froze, her eyes darting across Olivia’s face. She saw the crusted blood in her hair, the pale, ghostly skin, and the dark, unmistakable rings of purple bruising her neck. They exchanged a long, hollow stare.

As Olivia tried to brush past her, the Empress’s hand shot out, grasping her arm.

"I... I didn’t mean what happened," she whispered, her voice a frantic, high-pitched plea. "You simply provoked me... you won’t tell the Emperor, will you? You wouldn’t."

Before Olivia could respond, Kyle lunged forward. He seized his mother’s hand and wrenched it away with a fury that made her gasp. "Do not touch her again!"

"My son..." She reached out to cup his cheek, her hands trembling with terror. "My sweet boy, what is wrong? Why are you acting like this?"

He recoiled from her touch, his face twisted in visceral disgust. "Do not try to win me over. I saw you. I saw your face. You meant every second of it. You were trying to kill her! Have you lost your mind?"

"She started it!" the Empress shrieked, her poise shattering. "It was her fault! Not mine! Are you calling your own mother a liar?"

Kyle grabbed her face, forcing her head to turn until she was looking directly at Olivia. "Look at the blood that hasn’t even dried yet! This is your handiwork!"

But his voice trailed off. His eyes drifted past his mother toward the doorway.

They hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps. They hadn’t noticed the air in the room turn to ice. Matthias, Leon, and the Emperor were standing there, shrouded in a deafening silence. They had heard every word.

Matthias moved like a shadow unleashed. He ignored everyone else, his eyes fixed solely on Olivia. The sight of her paralyzed him—he had expected the usual sting of a slap, but he found a nightmare.

Her face was a ghostly white, her dress stained with crimson, and her throat bore the violent signature of a strangler.

Matthias cupped her face with trembling hands, his eyes searching hers with a frantic, desperate intensity. "Are you alright? Olivia, look at me."

"I am fine," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. "There is no need for such theatrics."

He ignored her protest, his thumb grazing the crusted blood near her eye before descending to the swollen, blackened skin of her throat. The sight of those finger-marks ignited a cold, abyssal rage within him.

"I am truly fine," she urged, trying to pull him away, sensing the lethal aura radiating from his body. "Since you are here, let us simply leave. Together."

But her words were lost to the wind. Matthias didn’t look at her; his gaze was fixed on the Empress. In an instant, the air in the room thickened with a suffocating, dark magic. Shadows coiled like serpents around the Empress’s throat, hoisting her into the air.

It was a silent, mid-air execution.

"Matthias! Drop her!" Kyle screamed, lunging forward. "Have you lost your mind?"

Matthias remained deaf to the world, his face a mask of stone as he watched the Empress gasp for air.

A sharp, metallic ring echoed through the chamber. The Emperor had unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming as he leveled it at Matthias’s heart. "Duke Luceron!" he roared. "To lay a hand upon a member of the Imperial Family is high treason! Stand down!"

Leon moved with a flash of speed, his own magic surging to counteract Matthias’s hold. He caught the Empress as she fell, gasping and clutching her throat. "Brother... calm your soul!" Leon pleaded, stepping between the Duke and the Sovereign.

The fire in Matthias’s eyes did not dim. He looked ready to tear the palace down to get to her again until Olivia grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face her. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"Matthias! Look at me!" she commanded, her voice cracking with the effort. "Return to your senses! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?"

The fog of bloodlust finally seemed to recede. His chest heaved as he looked at her—really looked at her—and the marks the Empress had left behind.

"Olivia... let me go. Look at what she did to you. Look at your state."

"I know," she said, her grip tightening on his sleeve. "I know, but she is the Empress."

"And what of it?" he spat, the words dripping with venom.

The Emperor’s voice cut through the tension, cold and formal.

"Then you admit it, Duke Luceron? Are you truly prepared to commit an act of rebellion against the Imperial Crown?"