Chapter 451: Chapter-451
Heena leaned back against air as there is no back panel of chair , closing her eyes as she mentally replayed the image of that empty rooftop. Even though she hadn’t seen anyone, and even though the System’s sensors insisted the air was clear, that strange, prickly sensation refused to leave her skin. ’’Well, whatever,’’ she thought coldly. ’’Paranoia keeps people alive. I just need to be careful.’’
Instead of chasing phantoms, she forced her analytical mind onto the glaring logical fallacies of the night.
How the hell did an ancient royal possess a spatial transportation device? If this were a high-fantasy cultivation world or a realm of sorcery, she wouldn’t blink. But this world operated strictly on the laws of steel, muscle, and military aura. Then again, the Seventh Prince was a Regressor. If he had looped through time countless times, he might have uncovered hidden, ancient anomalies or relic sites that the current era had entirely forgotten.
But that brought her to the next question: why was he so desperate to completely annihilate the Marquisate family?
Politically, it made sense on a surface level. If the Marquisate fell, their massive military power would be fractured and absorbed directly by the Imperial Throne. But the Seventh Prince was supposed to be a neglected, sickly son born of a lowly concubine. Why would a hidden powerhouse risk everything just to hand absolute authority over to a father who ignored him? Something wasn’t aligning. There had to be a deeply personal, hidden animosity between the Seventh Prince and her grandfather.
Before she could delve deeper into the political web, a soft, cautious knock echoed through the quiet room.
"Come in," Heena said, sitting up.
The doors slid open, and Samuel stepped inside.
’Damn.’ Heena mentally slapped her forehead. She had entirely forgotten about him. In her rush to prevent a military massacre, she had literally abandoned her "husband" at the high-end brothel and left him to fend for himself while she rode off into the night.
Samuel stood near the entrance, his shoulders slumped, wearing a comically pouty, miserable expression. He looked thoroughly rejected, radiating a tragic, sorrowful aura. Heena rubbed her temples, looking at him. He was like a persistent, clingy dog she couldn’t seem to shake off. And worse, she didn’t trust him. Not one bit.
In the original plot, Samuel—a brilliant, calculating scholar—was supposed to be utterly infatuated with revenge. Yet here he was, enduring the public humiliation of his wife frequenting brothels, still clinging to this marriage. It was an massive anomaly. High-class scholars with his pride didn’t tolerate this.
Deciding to cut through the act, Heena leaned forward, her voice flat and entirely devoid of warmth. "Listen. If you feel so wronged by my actions, I can sign the divorce papers right now without a single issue. I’ve told you before. You are the one who keeps clinging to this marriage. If you want out, let’s just end it. No hard feelings."
She expected him to snap, to show his true, calculating colors, or to storm out.
Instead, Samuel took a frantic step forward, and—’bam!’
He dropped straight to his knees right beside her bed. He looked up at her, his dark eyes brimming with genuine, unshed tears, looking completely devastated.
"I’m sorry," Samuel choked out, his voice trembling with pure distress as he tightly gripped the edge of her blanket. "I’m so, so sorry. I won’t look miserable anymore. I won’t act like this. Please don’t talk about divorce, wife... I’m really, really sorry."
Heena froze, staring down at the pathetic, weeping man at her bedside in absolute, genuine shock.
’’What the hell?’’ she thought, her analytical mind completely short-circuiting. ’’This is a major villain of the empire. This is a cold-blooded genius. That is absolutely NOT how a villain is supposed to act!’’
Heena , completely ignoring his pathetic display, picked up a silver-handled hairbrush and staring at his reflection in the mirror. Her eyes remained cold, tracking his every move as a sharp, calculated suspicion filled her mind.
Samuel Like a shadow, he trailed after her on his knees, moving across the plush rug until he was right beside her chair.
He didn’t care about his dignity as a high-class scholar. He reached up, his trembling hands gently resting on her knees, groveling with absolute desperation. "Wife... please," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her through his eyelashes. "Do not cast me away. I know I am frustrating. I know I don’t possess the martial strength of the warriors you command, but my heart... my entire existence belongs to you."
Heena watched him through the glass. The tears clinging to his lashes made him look incredibly vulnerable, but the way he was shifting his posture was anything but innocent.
Slowly, deliberately, Samuel began to change his tactics. His touch on her knees grew firmer, his long, elegant fingers sliding upwards along the silk of her nightgown. He leaned his torso against her legs, using his height even while kneeling to close the distance between them. The tragic, sorrowful expression on his face subtly melted into something far more dangerous—a quiet, burning intensity.
"You left me behind tonight," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, husky register that vibrated right through her. He tilted his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the fabric right above her knee, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You always run so far ahead, leaving me in the dark. Do you know how torturous it is to wait for you, wondering if you will ever look at me the way a woman looks at her husband?"
Heena didn’t move an inch. She let him crawl closer, her gaze completely analytical as he slid his hands up to her waist, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles against her skin. He was trying to use his undeniable charm and striking looks to soften her up, attempting to seduce his way out of the corner she had painted him into.
"I can be whatever you need me to be, Seera," he breathed, using her name like a sacred vow, his lips brushing against the edge of her waist. "Just don’t speak of divorce. Never say that word to me again."
Heena’s grip on the hairbrush tightened slightly. He was laying it on thick—the desperate groveling mixed with a highly practiced, heavy-lidded seduction. To any normal woman, a brilliant, breathtakingly handsome scholar begging on his knees and pouring his heart out would be overwhelming.
But Heena wasn’t a normal woman.
Heena looked down at him, her expression an unreadable mask. She reached out, her cool fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, touching his face with a chilling gentleness.
"I’m tired," she said softly, breaking the spell. "Go out."
Hearing that, Samuel immediately nodded. The heavy, suffocating air of seduction vanished in an instant. But as he stood up and turned to leave, a sudden, quiet question left his throat but he controlled it.
"But... how did you even know that I was here?"
Heena looked up at him through the vanity mirror, a slow, razor-sharp smile spreading across her lips. "I don’t remember telling anyone that I was back in my room."
Samuel didn’t flinch. He looked back at her, his voice entirely steady now. "The shadow guards told me."
Comments