The Discarded Wife Became the Empress Novel Ch 3
For a moment, I genuinely thought I’d misheard him.
He wanted me–me–to humble myself before the woman who used to pour my bathwater and lace
up my gowns?
Five years had passed, and Everett’s arrogance hadn’t changed one bit.
“I don’t need your charity,” I said coldly. “Nor your roof.”
Lillian tilted her head and let out a little laugh, her voice syrupy sweet.
“Eleanor, look at you now. If life weren’t so hard, why else would you sneak into a royal banquet just to bump into us by chance? Don’t tell me you’re here to win Everett back–hoping he’ll cast me aside and marry you instead?”
The insinuation was venomous, utterly baseless.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Everett cut in, visibly irritated. “Lillian is my wife. That hasn’t changed-
and it won’t. There’s no one else.”
“Since she doesn’t know her place,” he added with a sneer, “there’s no point wasting breath. We should get to our seats. Today’s banquet is important–the Crown Prince is introducing the future
Princess for the first time.”
The moment those words left his mouth, Lillian straightened her posture like a well–trained
hound. The surrounding nobles all nodded in agreement.
“I’ve heard she’s impossible,” one woman muttered, not even bothering to lower her voice.
“Haughty, cold, barely speaks to anyone.”
“Well, she’s the future Queen. Best we all learn how to please her,” another added with a smirk.
I arched a brow.
I was reserved, sure–but haughty?
Before Everett could drag Lillian off, he reached into his belt pouch and tossed a coin at my feet.
“Here. Take it and leave. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”
As if I were some beggar sullying his precious banquet.
Chapter 3
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I stepped back, repulsed–only to bump into a passing maid.
“Oh no… no, no, no-” she gasped as the lacquered box slipped from her arms, thudding against
the marble floor.
The lid popped open slightly, revealing a glint of gold thread and the corner of an embroidered veil.
Not torn–but exposed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clutched at the ruined garments.
“I’m finished…” she whispered. “Absolutely ruined.”
Everett took a step toward her, all feigned concern.
At court, he was known for his magnanimity toward the staff. Always gracious, always merciful—
so long as others were watching.
“What happened?”
“Milord,” the girl stammered, voice breaking. “These are Her Highness’s ceremonial robes for the banquet. If they’re not presented perfectly, I’ll be held responsible. Please–I beg you. Don’t let this
ruin me.”
She dropped to her knees, clutching the box to her chest, her head bowed low–not daring to meet
anyone’s eyes.
I had seen the crest stitched into the cloth, the delicate pattern of antlers and frost–laced roses- the royal sigil. I knew those robes.
They were meant for me.
And yet… she had only dropped them because I’d stumbled into her. The fault was mine. She didn’t
deserve what was coming.
I gently reached down and pulled her up. “You’re not to blame. Get up.”
She looked up at me, stunned–but before she could respond, Everett shoved me hard, sending me
off balance.
“You?” he scoffed. “You think you still have the right to make that judgment?”
“You’ve ruined Her Highness’s attire. You’ll be lucky if they don’t quarter you in the square!”
My patience finally broke.
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From the moment I arrived, it had been provocation after provocation. I had said nothing. Endured
everything.
But this?
I met his eyes, voice cold as frost. “Those robes were meant for me. If I say she’s not at fault, she’s
not. What of it?”
“You insolent wretch!” Everett’s face twisted with rage. “Still mouthing off, even now? Fine. Let’s
take you to the Prince himself. Let’s see how long your lies hold up.”
He gestured sharply. His men drew their blades.
Steel flashed in the torchlight, circling me like wolves.
“I am the betrothed of the Crown Prince,” I said, voice low, measured, lethal. “Lay a finger on me—
and you’ll answer to the throne.”
I didn’t move.
I’d spent five years training with steel–footwork, balance, defensive form drilled into muscle and
bone.
But right now? I had no blade. No armor. No room to move. And I was wearing a gown meant for
sitting, not surviving.
They came at me fast. I stepped aside, shifted my weight, avoided the first strike.
A second came too close. I turned, letting the skirts drag–but it slowed me down.
One boot slipped. The next guard caught me off guard.
In moments, I was surrounded–two blades drawn up to my throat.
I didn’t tremble. But I couldn’t move.
Everett’s voice rang out again.
“You all heard her–claiming to be the Princess. That’s treason. Punishable by death.”
“So if anyone happens to strike her down, it’ll be a service to the Crown.”
He smiled then.
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He was enjoying this.
Truly, deeply enjoying the thought of me dying here–in front of all of them.
And his soldiers?
They were ready to oblige.