Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: The Victim’s Mask

And she would not let her get away with it once more.

"Deborah."

Elysia’s voice rang out across the crowded entrance.

Calm.

Clear.

Cold.

"Are you absolutely certain you arrived before me?"

The question struck like an arrow.

Deborah visibly faltered.

For a split second, surprise flickered across her face.

Reeve immediately stepped forward.

"Why would she lie?"

His tone carried complete confidence.

Elysia looked directly at him.

"And why are you so certain she wouldn’t?"

Reeve opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

Because the truth was simple.

He hadn’t witnessed the beginning.

He had only arrived after the argument started.

Deborah hurriedly stepped in.

"Elysia, truly, it’s fine."

Her expression became one of gentle resignation.

"You may enter first."

She turned toward her carriage.

"Let’s forget this entire misunderstanding."

The coachman immediately grabbed the reins.

Ready to leave.

Ready to end the discussion before anyone could investigate.

"Stop."

Elysia’s voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip.

Both Draevenor guards moved instantly.

The Corvis carriage halted.

Deborah’s face changed.

For the first time, genuine unease appeared.

"Elysia... The Crown Prince..."

"What?"

This single word cut her off.

"What of it?"

Deborah blinked.

"What?"

"You keep mentioning the Crown Prince."

Elysia’s gaze sharpened.

"What exactly does His Highness have to do with a queue?"

Silence fell.

Several nearby nobles exchanged glances.

Even Reeve looked confused.

Elysia continued calmly.

"I am the Duchess of Draevenor."

Her voice carried effortlessly.

"His Highness is my husband’s nephew. By seniority, I am his aunt."

The crowd visibly reacted.

People rarely thought about it that way.

"But according to you," Elysia continued, "I should fear upsetting him over something as simple as determining who arrived first?"

Deborah suddenly realized something was terribly wrong.

This wasn’t the Elysia she remembered.

The old Elysia would have backed down the moment Vaelen’s name was mentioned.

She would have apologized.

She would have smiled through her humiliation.

She would have endured.

This Elysia wasn’t retreating.

She was advancing.

Deborah instinctively looked toward Reeve.

Seeking support.

Seeking rescue.

But Reeve had already started frowning.

Because Elysia’s argument made sense.

Seeing hesitation appear in his eyes, Elysia pressed forward.

"I arrived first."

She gestured toward the road behind them.

"My carriage waited here for nearly a quarter of an hour."

Then she pointed toward herself.

"The weather is sweltering."

Her cheeks were lightly flushed.

Tiny beads of perspiration lingered along her brow.

"I’ve been sitting in that carriage the entire time and it shows."

Her gaze shifted to Deborah.

"Lady Deborah, however, appears remarkably comfortable."

Every eye immediately turned towards Deborah.

Her hair remained immaculate.

Her makeup was perfect.

Not a single thing was out of place.

Not a single bead of sweat could be seen.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

But Elysia wasn’t finished yet.

"The gate guards witnessed everything."

She indicated the nearby palace guards who nodded their heads in aggreement.

"The carriages behind mine witnessed everything."

More heads turned.

Murmurs immediately spread through the crowd.

"Now that she mentions it..."

"The Draevenor carriage was already waiting."

"I saw the Corvis carriage arrive afterward."

"They definitely cut in."

The momentum shifted fast.

Reeve felt heat rise to his face.

He had been so certain.

So absolutely certain.

And he had been completely wrong.

After a long moment, he straightened.

Then bowed.

The movement was awkward.

But sincere.

"Your Grace," His voice was noticeably quieter.

"I owe you an apology."

The surrounding crowd immediately fell silent.

The heir to Merlinspire admitting fault was a rare sight.

Elysia accepted the apology with a nod.

Then asked, "And now?"

Reeve blinked.

"...Now?"

Elysia folded her hands neatly before her.

"You demanded that I apologize."

Her tone remained perfectly polite.

"You demanded that I wait until every other carriage had entered."

Reeve winced.

Right.

He had said that.

Very loudly.

In front of this entire crowd.

Elysia’s gaze shifted toward Deborah.

"The truth is now clear."

Her voice never rose.

That somehow made it more devastating.

"Lady Deborah cut the queue. She accused me falsely and moreover, attempted to leave before the facts were examined... Should there be no consequences now?"

Reeve stared at her.

Then suddenly slapped his thigh.

"You’re absolutely right!"

The crowd jumped.

Deborah nearly fainted.

Immediately, tears filled her eyes.

"Elysia..."

Her voice trembled.

"I didn’t know."

She pointed toward the coachman.

"It was all his mistake."

The coachman dropped to his knees instantly.

Kowtowing so hard his forehead struck stone.

Deborah’s tears spilled freely.

"If you’re angry, I can apologize."

She lowered her head.

"If that’s not enough..."

Her voice cracked.

"I can kneel too."

Seeing her tears sympathy predictably began spreading through the crowd.

"Surely that’s excessive..."

"She’s already apologizing..."

"Everyone makes mistakes..."

"It’s only a queue..."

A familiar pattern.

The same pattern that always followed one of Deborah’s performances.

A woman cried.

And suddenly facts became negotiable.

Reeve’s face darkened.

Then—

"Silence!"

His roar echoed across the entire entrance.

The crowd immediately quieted.

Reeve glared at everyone equally.

"Since when do tears determine right and wrong?"

His voice dripped with disdain.

"Cutting in line is cutting in line. Slander is slander."

He pointed toward the crowd.

"If crying erased wrongdoing, why do we even have laws?"

The silence deepened.

Reeve folded his arms.

"If murderers could avoid punishment by shedding a few tears, His Majesty might as well shut down every prison in the kingdom."

Hearing those words, no one— especially Deborah, had nothing left to say.

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