Chapter 2

My footsteps were steady as I walked out of the cathedral. Behind me, Edward's mother, Miranda Grant, called out anxiously, "Vivian, my dear, don't act rashly!"

Gathering the heavy folds of her gown, she hurried closer, her voice dropping to a whisper full of urgency. "Edward's just lost his way for a moment, bewitched by that woman. Every noble here is watching—both our families serve the kingdom with honor. Our union..."

I took a half step back, putting a clear distance between us, and curtsied with the precise grace expected of a lady. "Countess, the engagement has been dissolved. From now on, Ms. Linwood will be Mr. Grant's wife."

My voice carried just enough for several nearby ladies to hear.

Miranda's face paled instantly. Her fingers clenched around her silk handkerchief, knuckles whitening, but no words came out.

"You disgraceful brat! You've tarnished the century-old honor of the Grant family in a single day!" Nicholas' furious roar echoed from behind, followed at once by Edward's defiant retort.

"What's wrong with following my heart? Charlotte is kind and gentle—worth a hundred of those prim, manner-obsessed noble girls who know nothing but pretense!"

"You... you..." Nicholas trembled with rage, then suddenly his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed straight to the floor.

"My lord!" Miranda shrieked, rushing toward him.

Instantly, the cathedral descended into chaos—servants calling for help, guests murmuring among themselves.

I never once glanced back as I made for the doors.

Just as I crossed the threshold, I caught a faint whisper from one of the ladies. "Who would have thought Ms. Quinn had such steel in her..."

"Another lady would've wept herself faint right in the aisle."

"Mr. Grant really went too far..."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips.

In my previous life, I had fallen to my knees in tears on this very spot. This time, I would make sure the entire kingdom remembered how straight I held my spine as I walked away.

Outside, a soft spring rain was falling, dampening the hem of my wedding gown.

By the wall, a beggar crouched in the muddy water, his thin fingers caked with grime as he fumbled with a half-rotted piece of black bread.

Reaching up, I pulled out the sapphire hairpin and gently placed it into his worn wooden bowl.

The pin clinked softly against the wood, and the beggar shuddered, lifting his head.

Only then did I see his face clearly. One side was brutally disfigured by old burns, a web of twisted scars covering his cheek. His eyes, clouded and unfocused, told me he was blind.

With trembling, rough fingers, he began to feel around inside the bowl for the hairpin. By accident, his fingertip brushed against my wrist, leaving a faint streak of mud behind.

"Th-thank you, miss..." His voice was hoarse, as though his throat had been scorched by fire, heavy with gratitude.

I shook my head with a wry smile and turned away.

In my previous life, locked in a dungeon, I had been just like him—groping in the dark for scraps of spoiled food, drowning in that same helpless despair.

Now, reborn but scarcely able to protect myself, this hairpin was all I could offer.

I did not look back toward the Prime Minister's residence. I knew better than anyone how much my father valued appearances. Now that I had been publicly jilted and turned into the laughingstock of the kingdom, he would never allow me to cross his threshold again.

Following a path from memory, I made my way to a secluded courtyard in the southern district.

It was a property my mother had quietly acquired before her death, hidden away in the city's backstreets, unknown even to my father.

Pushing open the peeling wooden gate, I found the yard overgrown with weeds, but the stone cottage stood intact, sturdy enough to offer shelter.

One by one, I removed my jewelry—necklace, earrings, bracelet—and packed them carefully away, planning to pawn them for coins the next day.

Sure enough, by early morning, notices had been posted all over the city's bulletin boards.

The words, printed in stark official script, stung the eyes: [Vivian Quinn, for misconduct and bringing disgrace upon her family, is hereby cast out and disowned, effective immediately.]

I took a deep breath, pushing down the ache in my chest, and turned toward the market district.

Two weeks later, on the busiest street in the southern city, a café named "Serene Melody" opened its doors.

With the money from pawning my jewels, I had leased this two-story stone building. Downstairs served freshly ground coffee and handcrafted pastries; upstairs held private seating areas, furnished simply but with quiet elegance.

"Have you heard? This café was opened by that Ms. Quinn—the one Earl of Burriten's son jilted at the altar..."

"The Prime Minister's own daughter, reduced to a common shopkeeper. Pitiful, really."