Chapter 234: The Shadow’s Move
Mathias sat in the absolute, crushing oblivion of his cell. The faint glimmer of light that had filtered through the narrow, barred window was completely receding, a grim sign that the midnight shroud had officially claimed the capital. Yet, despite the damp, biting chill radiating from the stone walls and the suffocating isolation, this wretched cage remained his only true sanctuary—the solitary place in the entire empire where he wasn’t forced to suppress the violent, clawing monster raging beneath his skin.
Though Lucius had practically handed him the key to freedom days ago, Mathias had consciously chosen to stay behind. Breaking out too early would have shattered the fragile illusion, triggering alarms and stoking the suspicions of their enemies. He needed to play the part of the captive beast. He needed to wait, to let the pieces fall naturally into place.
But tonight, the meticulous rhythm of his confinement shattered.
The low-born servant who routinely delivered his meager rations was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a total stranger, whose heavy, calculated footsteps echoed against the stone floor long before he reached the iron bars. And instead of merely sliding the wooden tray through the small iron slot at the bottom of the door as was custom, the man drew a heavy key, unlocked the gate with a harsh, echoing scrape, and stepped directly into the narrow cell to personally deliver the meal.
Mathias didn’t move a single muscle, melting deeper into the shadows, but his sharp gaze locked onto the intruder like a vice. A cold, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
So, Cedric’s patience has finally run dry, Mathias deduced, his military mind instantly dissecting the move. He sent someone to verify my exact location. A low, dangerous chuckle vibrated from his chest, dark and entirely devoid of humor. Fine then. I can’t very well keep the Duke waiting forever. But...
Mathias rose to his full, towering height, his immense frame instantly dominating the cramped space. He paused, his thoughts shifting to a certain stubborn, calculating woman as he pondered for a few silent seconds.
If I am going to do something this incredibly reckless, he thought, a protective intensity flaring in his dark eyes, the least I can do is bid her farewell first.
Letting out a deep, rough sigh that echoed off the damp stone, Mathias approached the cell door. With effortless, terrifying strength born of military precision and sheer willpower, he breached the threshold without a single shred of trouble and vanished into the dark, labyrinthine corridors of the prison, leaving the empty cage behind.
Ever since her carriage had departed, Cedric had remained standing by the grand iron gates, his eyes anchoring onto the retreating shadow until it completely vanished into the freezing midnight fog. Only then did he turn back, stepping through his silent manor to stand over the dining table once more.
He picked up a silver fork, mindlessly shifting the remnants of the food she had barely touched, his gaze fixing upon the plate with deep, analytical suspicion. Slowly, an expression of utter dissatisfaction carved its way across his handsome features as his eyes locked onto the discarded sprigs of rosemary pushed to the very edge of the porcelain.
"Ha..." he breathed into the quiet room, a cold realization settling in. "She carefully avoided the rosemary, and the meat it touched."
His grip tightened, and with a sudden, violent lurch, he slammed the fork into the center of the plate, fracturing the expensive china cleanly in half. The sharp crack echoed through the desolate hall like a gunshot.
Cedric stayed in that exact spot for a long, grueling time, dissecting every micro-expression, every hesitation, and every single word she had uttered. The clock struck past midnight, yet he remained suspended in his obsessive thoughts, waiting for the one missing piece of his puzzle.
Finally, the heavy oak doors opened, and his trusted informant stepped into the hall, bowing with seamless, aristocratic elegance.
"I have returned, my Lord."
"You took your time," Cedric murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register.
"Investigating the matter of that guard required absolute discretion, Sire. The Imperial internal security has been tightening as of late."
"So, where is he?" Cedric demanded, snapping his head up, his patience entirely spent. "I want an answer. I have been waiting for days to verify this."
"He is inside the imperial dungeons, my Lord. He has not left."
Cedric’s brow arched in genuine wonder, his restless fingers freezing against the polished wood of the table. "Ah... so he truly is in the prison? She wasn’t spinning a lie to buy herself time?"
"It appears so, Sire. The confirmation is absolute."
"Splendid," Cedric purred, a dark, unsettling satisfaction washing over his sharp features as he waved a dismissive hand. "You may leave."
As the informant retreated into the shadows, Cedric leaned back against his chair, his mind spinning with terrifying velocity. So Mathias is truly locked away... Hmm, that is beneficial, but still... something does not align.
A sudden, erratic flash of fury possessed him, hot and blinding. Cedric abruptly rose from his seat and marched straight toward the private dressing room where Olivia had changed her attire earlier that evening. There, draped over a velvet chair, was her original gown. At his sharp gesture, a trembling maid stepped forward, lifted the heavy fabric, and handed it to him before quickly scurrying back into the shadows to escape his wrath.
Cedric held the dress between his hands, his fingers crushing the fine material with a feral, possessive desperation. He stared at the empty garment, speaking to it as though Olivia herself were standing right before him in the dim light.
"At the very beginning, during that fire... you were weeping, desperately shielding your abdomen with your hands," he whispered, his voice cracking with a terrifying clarity that filled the room. "Then tonight, you refused the alcohol you once adored so blindly, making an excuse that tasted of falsehood. And now... you went out of your way to avoid the meat seasoned with rosemary."
The gown crumpled violently within his tightening, shaking fists.
"So... you have officially confirmed my darkest suspicions. You are truly carrying that bastard’s child."
Slowly, Cedric raised the silk fabric to his face, inhaling her lingering scent as though he were breathing in paradise itself. Then, his touch instantly shifted, becoming sickeningly gentle, almost paternal, as his fingers stroked the ruined contours of the dress.
"Do not fret, my sweet Olivia," he murmured, a hollow, psychopathic smile spreading across his face, casting long, twisted shadows on the wall. "I will never allow a filthy thing like this to stand between us. I will erase anything that keeps you from being mine. I will rid you... of that parasite inside your body."