Chapter 3

"Leave us," Edward said to Isabelle, his voice stripped of any warmth.

Isabelle opened her mouth, but one look from Edward killed the words before they left her lips. She turned and walked out.

At the doorway, she glanced back at Charlotte one last time, and the hatred in her eyes was dark as ink.

Charlotte pretended not to notice.

The room held only the two of them now.

Edward set the stack of papers on the table and fixed his gaze on Charlotte. "Do you understand what you've just done?"

"I do." Charlotte raised her head, her voice steady and unafraid. "The Rivers family stole from your soldiers. As your wife, it was my duty to bring this to you."

Edward was quiet for a few seconds. "You hate the Rivers family."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Charlotte didn't deny it. "I want you to see that I'm not worthless." She met his eyes, calm and unflinching. "I thought that might make you more willing to agree to divorce."

Edward's fingers went still. He had expected Charlotte to seize the moment, to use what she had done as leverage and beg him to stay.

That was how women at court operated, wasn't it? They clawed their way up by any means necessary, desperate to brand themselves as useful.

But she had asked for a divorce.

He asked, "You want out that badly?"

Charlotte didn't hesitate. "Yes." She looked him straight in the eye. "More than anything."

Edward stared at her for a long moment.

He thought of the night before, when she had handed him the divorce papers. Her smile had been warm and easy, but her eyes were cold as ice.

He found himself wondering just how much Charlotte was hiding from him.

"I won't sign the papers," he said.

Charlotte's smile faltered. "Why not?"

"Because you haven't told me how you got your hands on these."

Edward picked up the stack of papers, turned, and walked toward the door. He paused at the threshold but didn't look back. "And one more thing. That little act you put on today? Terrible."

The door closed behind him.

Charlotte stood right where she was, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Terrible? In her past life, everyone in Carvine had considered her the most guileless woman alive. There was no way her acting had slipped that much.

She looked down at her hands. She had trembled three times during her grievance performance, and every one of them had been perfectly timed.

Footsteps sounded outside, and the door cracked open again. Edward's face appeared in the gap.

"One more thing," he said. "I'll be looking into the Rivers family. How deep I dig depends entirely on how you behave from here."

Charlotte asked, "Behave how?"

"You know what I want to know."

The door shut again.

Charlotte sat still for a moment, then slowly sank back onto the edge of the bed and pressed her fingers to her temples.

In her past life, Edward had never spared her a single glance, and the rejection had eaten her alive.

This time around, he actually looked at her, but everything out of his mouth was a riddle.

Somehow, this life was turning out to be even harder than the last.

Meanwhile, Isabelle stormed back to her chambers and swept the coffee cup off the table in one violent motion.

Porcelain shattered across the floor, and the handmaids dropped to their knees in terror.

"Charlotte." She ground out the name through clenched teeth. "You think you can make waves?"

She drew a deep breath, walked to her writing desk, and penned a letter.

The message was simple. [Charlotte was looking into the wedding gift, she intended to move against the Rivers family, and she needed to be eliminated.]

The letter was rolled into a small canister and fastened to a carrier pigeon. The bird beat its wings and rose into the sky, heading toward Rivers Manor.

Isabelle stood at the window and watched the pigeon vanish into the morning light. She let out a sneer.

"You really think one look from Edward means he cares about you, Charlotte?" she whispered. "How naive. You died once before, and you will die the same way again."

Charlotte stood in her own courtyard and spotted the same pigeon. She made no move to stop it, because the bird was flying the exact same route it had taken in her past life.

That letter was exactly what she had been waiting for.

Joanne arrived sooner than Charlotte expected. The very next morning, a footman came to report that Joanne was here and waiting in the drawing room.

Charlotte was eating breakfast when she heard the news. Her fork paused over her plate for just a second before she calmly speared another piece of pastry.

In her past life, Joanne hadn't come to the estate for three days.

Isabelle had already burned Charlotte's hand by then, and Charlotte had been a complete wreck.

The moment Joanne walked through the door, she berated Charlotte in front of everyone, calling her "an embarrassment to the Rivers name who didn't know her place."

Charlotte had knelt on the floor sobbing out apologies until her knees turned black and blue, but Joanne never spared her so much as a glance before walking out.

This time, three days had become two.

The pigeon flew a little faster this time around.

"Please ask Mother to wait in the drawing room," Charlotte told her maid. "I will change and be right out." Her tone was so flat, she might as well have been commenting on the weather.

The maid froze for a moment.

In the past, the mere mention of Joanne's name was enough to send Charlotte into a panic, her fork clattering off the table. But today, Charlotte didn't even flinch.

The maid didn't dare ask questions, though, and left to carry out the order.