The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 52

Beatrice had never been one to let fear consume her.

It could linger, whisper at the edges of her mind, crawl into her bones in the dead of night, but she never let it win. She couldn’t.

But the past few days had made it harder to ignore.

Gabriel’s audacity. Francois’ warning. The realization that the novel had never given her the full story. Every new revelation chipped away at the fragile stability she had created for herself.

And yet, the court continued as if nothing had changed. As if everything was still perfectly in place.

Beatrice walked through the halls of the palace that morning with the same carefully crafted poise as always. She acknowledged the bows and curtsies with a glance, her expression unreadable, her movements practiced.

Let them whisper. Let them watch.

She had more important things to worry about.

A summons had arrived that morning. One with the royal seal, bearing a simple but direct request.

The King requests your presence.

Beatrice had read the words twice, carefully, before setting the letter down.

It was unusual. The King rarely met with nobles outside of council meetings or formal gatherings. And for him to call on her, specifically?

She knew it wasn’t good.

But she wasn’t about to refuse.

So now, as she made her way toward the King’s private receiving hall, she let her mind race through the possibilities.

Francois.

He must have told his father about Gabriel. Or at least, about his concerns.

Or worse, had word of her "return to form" finally reached the King’s ears? Had the court’s murmurs painted her as a threat once more?

She exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts aside. Speculation would get her nowhere.

Whatever this was, she would face it.

A royal attendant opened the heavy doors for her, stepping aside as she entered the chamber.

The King sat at the far end of the grand room, dressed in formal robes, his expression as unreadable as ever. He was a man of power, aged but far from weak. His presence alone commanded authority.

Beside him stood Francois, his posture as composed as always, though his gaze flickered toward her the moment she stepped inside.

Beatrice curtsied. "Your Majesty."

"Lady Beatrice," the King greeted, his voice steady. "Come forward."

She obeyed, each step measured, her mind working at full speed.

"I trust you are well," the King said, watching her carefully.

Beatrice smiled faintly. "Of course, Your Majesty."

The King leaned forward slightly. "I have called you here because I have heard some... concerning things."

Beatrice kept her expression calm. "Concerning, Your Majesty?"

The King exchanged a glance with Francois. Then, his gaze settled back on her.

"The court speaks of you often these days. There are rumors of tension between you and the De Silvas."

Ah. So that was it.

Beatrice kept her posture relaxed, tilting her head slightly. "Rumors are a common pastime in court, Your Majesty. But I assure you, I have done nothing to dishonor House Da Ville."

The King studied her. "No? And yet, Lord Gabriel left rather abruptly. And I have been informed that there was... an incident."

Beatrice’s fingers twitched slightly, but she didn’t let it show.

"I wouldn’t call it an incident," she said smoothly. "A misunderstanding, perhaps. But nothing of consequence."

Francois shifted slightly, but he remained silent. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The King exhaled, resting his hands against the table before him.

"I do not take misunderstandings lightly, Lady Beatrice. Nor do I take kindly to unnecessary conflicts between noble houses. The De Silvas are powerful allies."

Beatrice met his gaze steadily. "As are the Da Villes."

The tension in the room thickened.

Francois finally spoke. "Father."

The King turned to his son.

Francois’ voice was calm, deliberate. "With all due respect, I believe Lady Beatrice understands the gravity of the situation. And I believe she knows where she stands."

The words were careful. Measured.

A warning, not just to her, but to the King as well.

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, the King sighed. "Very well." His gaze returned to Beatrice. "You will conduct yourself wisely, Lady Beatrice."

Beatrice inclined her head. "Always, Your Majesty."

The King studied her for another moment before waving a hand.

"You may go."

Beatrice didn’t hesitate.

She turned, moving toward the doors with steady steps, feeling the weight of Francois’ gaze following her as she left.

The moment the doors shut behind her, she exhaled slowly.

That had been too close.

She knew the King was not a man to act impulsively, but he was a man who valued order above all else. If he ever deemed her a threat to that order...

She clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t give him the chance.

"Beatrice."

She stilled.

Turning slightly, she found Francois stalking behind. He had followed her.

"You lied," he said simply.

"Did I?" Beatrice smiled faintly.

Francois narrowed his eyes. "You downplayed what happened."

"I handled it."

"That’s not the same thing."

Beatrice exhaled sharply. "I wasn’t going to tell the King that one of his allies raised a hand against me in his own palace. What would that have accomplished?"

Francois didn’t respond immediately.

Then quietly, he said, "You should have told me."

Beatrice froze.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "You already knew."

His jaw tightened. "Not from you."

Beatrice sighed. "I don’t need protection, Francois."

He stepped closer, voice lower now. "That’s not your decision to make."

Beatrice held his gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

The tension from last night. The warnings. The unspoken promises.

Francois had seen her bruises. Had seen the way she kept her hands hidden beneath the table at dinner.

He knew. And he was angry.

Not at her.

But at the fact that she had chosen silence over trust.

"This is my fight." Beatrice smiled faintly.

Francois didn’t look away. "Then fight."

She hesitated.

Francois exhaled slowly. "But don’t do it alone."

Her chest tightened. She hated that he said things like this. She hated that, for a brief moment, she almost believed him.

She turned away. "Goodnight, Your Highness."

Francois didn’t stop her this time.

But as she walked away, she knew...

He wasn’t done. And neither was she.