Chapter Forty-Seven

In the guest room, beside the large bed, Maria sat quietly, facing the window.

The butler glanced at her, finally mustering the courage to speak. “Miss Spencer, His Highness asked me to inform you that he will not be seeing anyone for the time being. Please return home, or, if you prefer, you may stay here.” He stole a glance at her motionless, statue-like figure and continued, “His Highness meant what he said in the gym that day. Those words still stand.”

Having finished his message, the butler quickly lowered his head, saying nothing more, bracing himself for any backlash.

At last, the ‘statue’ by the bed stirred.

When Maria heard the butler’s words, her body trembled ever so slightly, barely perceptible. Her face was filled with disbelief; both hands clenched tight, her slender, manicured nails digging hard into her delicate palms, leaving crimson marks.

“I understand. You may go,” she said.

As the butler turned and closed the door, the gentle expression on Maria’s face suddenly twisted into something grotesque, more frightening than any Halloween mask.

Her lips pressed together, and her emerald eyes burned with a wild, furious hatred.

That woman—everything was because of that woman! It must be her! Only she could make Arthur put everything aside, place her above all else.

Rising to her feet, Maria swept the items off the table in a fit of rage, sending them crashing to the floor.

Downstairs, the butler heard the storm of clattering, shook his head in pity, and felt a sense of relief.

Maria looked coldly at the broken fragments on the floor, her eyes shining with madness and venom. She walked back to the window, picked up her phone from the bedside table, and strode out of the room.

Downstairs, the butler was on the phone, arranging for a new batch of furniture.

Maria walked toward the door, speaking as she moved, “Butler, tell Arthur I’m leaving,” she paused, gritting her teeth, “and tell him to find me when he isn’t so busy.”

“Yes, Miss Spencer,” the butler replied, his professional smile never wavering, respectful as ever.

Maria snorted, her heels clicking imperiously, departing the White Villa with the pride of a queen.

In Rome, within the Garden of Water’s Embrace

On the small river bordering the garden, a gondola floated quietly on the clear water. On the boat sat a slender figure wearing a violet fisherman’s hat, patiently fishing.

Plump, lively fish swam joyfully, occasionally circling the bait, tempted but wary.

Suddenly, a phone rang, startling the fish, who fled and circled nearby, reluctant to leave the enticing lure.

A frail, elderly voice came through the receiver. “Young master, the lady is at Lilith Castle.”

Upon hearing this, the figure gently closed the phone. He resumed his silent fishing, as if nothing had occurred. Yet, if one looked closely, beneath the violet hat and oversized sunglasses, two deep dimples marked his fair cheeks.

The fish, sensing no further danger, cautiously returned to the tempting bait. After a moment’s hesitation, it could no longer resist and, seizing the opportunity, swallowed the bait whole.

Ah, now the greedy fish could only despair.

It had been deceived!

It glared with its bulging golden eyes, comically furious, staring at the relaxed man on the boat.

A faint smile flickered at the man’s lips, vanishing with the breeze.

He reached out slender fingers and gently flicked the hook; the fish fell into the water.

The startled fish darted away, turned in the distance, paused as if reproaching the man on the boat, splashed a tiny wave, and then disappeared from sight.

The man calmly reeled in his line and, paddling, steered toward the Garden of Water’s Embrace.

—Author’s note—

Dear readers, please support me by adding this to your favorites!