The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 40

Beatrice stared at the letter in her hands, fingers tightening around the parchment as she read the words over again.

Beatrice,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would say I write to inquire about your health, but we both know I do not waste my time with pleasantries.

You have seen the signs, haven’t you? The little shifts at court, the hushed whispers behind closed doors. The kingdom edges closer to conflict, and while our dear Crown Prince remains composed, I wonder how much he truly knows. How much he’s willing to share.

You are running out of time.

Do not make the mistake of believing yourself untouchable. Whatever schemes lie in motion, you must be a step ahead. If you wish to secure your place, if you truly intend to hold onto power, then stop hesitating. Win him over. Or prepare to lose everything.

Yours,

M.

Beatrice let out a slow, sharp breath.

Magnus was infuriating. Always cryptic, always a step ahead, always watching. She could practically hear the smirk in his words, the way he danced between warning and provocation.

She had expected him to write, but not like this. Not with this.

Her fingers crumpled the edges of the parchment before she forced herself to smooth them out.

Beatrice tossed the letter onto her desk and exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.

She didn’t want to play this game. Not anymore.

But it seemed the game wasn’t giving her a choice.

By the time she stepped out of her chambers, her mood was beyond repair. The halls felt heavier. Or maybe it was just her.

She walked with purpose, each step sharp and deliberate, and she knew, she knew, that people were taking notice.

It was in the way the maids stiffened as she passed. The way a pair of noblewomen whispered behind gloved hands, only to fall silent the moment her gaze flickered toward them.

It was suffocating.

Or maybe it was satisfying.

She wasn’t sure which.

What she did know was that she needed an outlet for her irritation, and unfortunately, the first unfortunate soul in her path was Lila.

The princess took one look at her and let out a low whistle.

"You look like you’re about to have someone executed."

Beatrice barely slowed her steps. "Would you like to volunteer?"

Lila’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, absolutely not. But do tell me, who put you in this mood? So I can send them a gift." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Beatrice sighed. "You’re very lucky I don’t have the patience to argue today."

"Oh, I know that. But does the court?"

Beatrice knew what she was implying. The murmurs had already started. She could practically hear them.

She’s acting strange again.

She looks like she did before.

Maybe she hasn’t changed at all.

Beatrice clenched her jaw, pushing past Lila with a flick of her cloak.

She would not give them the satisfaction.

Not today. And certainly not because of Magnus.

Beatrice barely made it five steps down the corridor before she ran into Johanna.

Perfect. Just what she needed!

The golden heroine of the novel, ever-graceful, ever-composed, and looking at Beatrice with concern.

"Lady Beatrice," Johanna greeted, her voice as gentle as ever. "Are you alright?"

Beatrice gritted her teeth.

She knew Johanna meant well. She always did. But today, with everything swirling in her mind, the careful sympathy in her voice felt like a weight pressing down on her.

"I’m fine," Beatrice replied curtly, already moving to step past her.

Johanna, in true Johanna fashion, didn’t let it go.

"You seem... troubled."

A handful of nobles were lingering nearby, clearly eavesdropping, pretending to admire the embroidered tapestries along the walls.

Beatrice felt their eyes on her. The way they were waiting... expecting.

Expecting her to slip. Expecting the villainess to resurface.

And maybe it was the weight of Magnus’ letter. Maybe it was the whispers that followed her all morning. Maybe it was the fact that everyone expected something from her and she was just so tired of it all.

But she snapped.

"And what of it?" Beatrice’s voice was sharp. "Am I not allowed to have a bad day without an interrogation?"

Johanna blinked, startled.

Beatrice barely had a second to regret it before she heard the hushed murmurs ripple through the hall.

Did you hear that?

She spoke so harshly to Lady Johanna...

The same as before.

Beatrice clenched her jaw.

Great. Just great!

She forced a breath through her nose, keeping her expression neutral, but it was pointless now. The damage was done.

Johanna, ever-graceful, quickly recovered.

"I didn’t mean to pry," she said softly. "I only wished to help."

Beatrice’s chest twisted. Johanna meant that. She truly did.

She sighed, rubbing her temple. "I know. Forget I said anything."

She didn’t wait for Johanna’s response before turning on her heel and walking away.

She could already feel the consequences of this unraveling before her.

And sure enough, by the time she made it to the gardens, a familiar presence was already waiting for her.

Francois.

Beatrice barely managed to keep from groaning.

Of course he’d hear about it.

Of course.

The Crown Prince leaned casually against the stone railing, arms crossed, watching her with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.

"News travels fast," he murmured.

"What, did you sprint here the moment you heard?"

"No." Francois tilted his head slightly. "But I was curious."

Beatrice huffed. "There’s nothing to be curious about."

Francois hummed in a way that told her he didn’t believe that for a second.

"You’re unraveling," he observed. "It’s unlike you."

Beatrice let out a sharp laugh. "Oh? And what is like me, Your Highness?"

Francois studied her. "You tell me."

She hated how calm he was. How effortlessly he peeled back the layers, waiting for her to give something away.

Not today.

Beatrice squared her shoulders, flashing him a sharp grin. "I think I liked it better when you didn’t care what I did."

Francois didn’t even blink. "I never said I didn’t care."

Beatrice’s breath hitched. For just a moment, she forgot how to move.

Then, before she could even begin to process that, Francois pushed off the railing and stepped closer.

"You should be careful, Lady Beatrice," he said, quiet but firm. "The court is watching."

Beatrice swallowed, forcing a smirk. "Oh, I know."

Francois held her gaze for a long, weighted moment. Then, finally, he sighed and stepped back.

Whatever he had been looking for in her face, he seemed to give up on finding it.

"For your sake," he murmured, turning away, "I hope you do."

And with that, he left.

Beatrice stood frozen in place, the cool breeze against her skin doing little to clear the heat in her chest.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes.

This day was getting worse by the second.