“Duke Johan Leopold’s Sudden Divorce from Olivia Blanchet—Where Is the Former Duchess Now?”
The couple’s wedding photo splashed across the front page with a sensational headline, overshadowing even the promiscuous crown prince’s latest scandal and dominating the tabloids.
Given that it was the divorce of Duke Leopold—once embroiled in a scandal for marrying Blanchet’s illegitimate daughter—it was no wonder the high society of Leiden was in an uproar.
“So this is where you were hiding.”
A group of noblewomen gasped in shock at the sight of Olivia, sitting like a picture bathed in the spring sunlight.
“Who would’ve thought we’d find the duchess in a place like this?”
“Duchess? Hardly. You should call her Miss Blanchet now.”
Carol narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. One of the women flushed at the subtle scolding.
“Looks like the rumors were true—she must’ve walked away with a hefty sum. Staying at the Lancelot Hotel, of all places, how shameless.”
The others clucked their tongues in agreement.
“What business could she possibly have in Ritten?”
“The Rose Ball is coming up soon. Maybe she’s trying to improve her fortunes.”
In the Kingdom of Britt, May was the season of the Ritten Flower Festival, with the Lancelot Hotel’s Rose Ball second in prestige only to the royal ball.
Conversely, in the Kingdom of Rondos, May was a month of mourning after Queen Katrina’s husband had passed away in that very month. Large-scale balls and social gatherings were discouraged. For the bored aristocrats, Britt’s festival across the sea served as a convenient escape.
“Word is she got a fortune in alimony. How else would a divorced bastard like her be allowed in the Lancelot Hotel? Completely shameless. Don’t you agree?”
Their envious gazes flitted toward Olivia. Anne noticed first.
She quickly grabbed Olivia’s arm.
“My lady, would you like to take a stroll in the garden today? This hotel is famous for its rose garden. The weather’s perfect for a walk.”
She spoke quickly, a little too urgently.
Olivia tilted her head in contemplation.
“If you’re still tired, we can just return to the room,” Anne added, clearly anxious.
The group of lavishly adorned noblewomen was drawing closer, heads held high like peacocks. Whether they were being led to their seats or approaching deliberately was unclear, and Anne grew more nervous.
Even if Olivia had changed, a moment of collapse could undo everything and send her spiraling back into her old self.
“My lady?”
Olivia remained deep in thought.
The hotel brochure had described the rose garden in vivid detail—a paradise of unfamiliar names like Princess de Alencia, Double Delight, Iceberg, and more. A place like this… she might never visit again.
“Let’s go to the garden,” Olivia said with a bright smile.
The two stood and turned toward the terrace that opened into the garden. Anne, unusually swift, led Olivia out just as they stepped over the threshold—
“Miss Blanchet.”
Olivia’s name rang out above the piano music.
Anne’s heart dropped. She wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard and rush her lady away—but Olivia slowly turned.
“I thought it was you, Miss Blanchet. How lovely to meet you. I’m Elaine.”
The woman approached with a refined smile and a polite greeting. Several other noblewomen followed behind.
“Hello,” Olivia replied, a beat too late, sifting through her memory. She didn’t recognize the woman.
Elaine was perfectly polite, but the disdain in her eyes wasn’t well concealed—or perhaps she didn’t care to hide it.
Olivia picked up on it instantly. She’d been the object of such stares her entire life, trained to read them like a sixth sense.
People who smiled while hiding contempt always wanted something from her. And it never ended well. Not once.
“Have we met before? I don’t recall.”
“Not formally. But I’ve seen you at a few parties.”
“Ah.”
Olivia let out a soft, knowing sigh, smiling gently.
At those parties, where a “dirty bastard” conceived through adultery was unwelcome, her only refuge was drinking alone on the terrace. Champagne dulled the suffocating gazes for a while—just long enough to breathe.
But Olivia didn’t know moderation. And it always ended in disgrace.
She could guess what Elaine had seen.
“I heard your lawyer played a major role in your divorce?”
Olivia didn’t reply.
“They say you received even more than Princess Anneblin did when she divorced. Is it true?”
“How shameless. But then again, a woman who seduced a duke with such vulgar tactics probably doesn’t know the meaning of shame.”
Their loud voices, under the guise of ladylike conversation, drew every eye in the café toward Olivia. Smirks bloomed under curious gazes.
Olivia could have defended herself—it was all tabloid nonsense, unverified gossip. But would they believe her? The truth didn’t matter to them.
They wanted to shame Olivia Blanchet. That alone made it worth inventing lies. It was their entertainment, a way to punish a woman who had sat where she didn’t belong, outshone them in jewels and dresses, and briefly held power in society thanks to her husband.
There was no point getting worked up over such people.
The alimony had been Johan’s decision. Not that they’d believe that.
If they wanted a show—then Olivia would give them one.
“I didn’t know he owned an island. Had I known, I would’ve asked for that too. Such a pity.”
She smiled as if genuinely regretful.
“If you ever need a good lawyer, let me know. I’ll give you a referral. You never know, after all.”
“How dare you curse us like that—!”
“Divorce taught me one thing—what really matters in life isn’t a husband. It’s money.”
Olivia’s elegant smile carried a frosty edge. She refused to show them the version of herself they expected. The Olivia Blanchet they thought they knew no longer existed.
She wore her confidence like a crown.
The women gaped in shock.
She’s gone mad since the divorce!
Even if she had once worn the title of Duchess of Leopold, she’d been a ghost in high society. And now this lowborn, vulgar woman had humiliated them.
Their lips quivered in rage.
“That necklace is lovely,” Olivia said, pausing as if the jewelry had just caught her eye.
“It suits you.”
At the unexpected compliment, all eyes turned to Elaine’s neck. The pink diamond necklace sparkled—it was a gift from her husband on their seventh wedding anniversary, and her pride and joy.
“At least you have good taste,” Elaine replied haughtily, lifting her chin.
“But if you care about dignity, you might want to avoid wearing fakes. Makes you look fake too.”
Leaving the red-faced woman behind, Olivia stepped into the garden with Anne. The scent of blooming roses and the noblewomen’s gasps followed them.
