Chapter 13: may I kiss you?
Two days later, Belle was preparing to depart for the town square, with Mia assisting her despite her reservations. Mia was deeply uneasy, knowing how furious Quinn would be if he discovered Belle’s secret meeting with the King.
"Are you certain about this?" Mia asked, her voice laced with worry as she gazed at Belle. She dreaded seeing her mistress suffer once more, especially now that they were so close to leaving the Duke’s mansion. Tomorrow was the day Belle was to receive the divorce papers, and it seemed unwise to risk provoking Quinn’s wrath.
"Everything will be fine, I assure you," Belle replied firmly. "I will manage it all. That’s why you must also leave the mansion for the day. It will draw less suspicion." It had taken immense courage to summon the King, and with the final step at hand, she was willing to take the risk. By this time tomorrow, with the divorce finalized, she planned to leave for the castle and focus on her recovery. Her journey to regain her strength and health would begin, and she was resolute about the future.
The doctor had cautioned against pregnancy for at least three months until her body was fully healed. A year would be more than enough time to recover entirely.
"Very well. I shall pack all of our belongings before your return. Please, do take care," Mia finally conceded, her concern evident, though she could not deny Belle’s determination.
"You be careful as well," Belle replied with a nod, her smile warm as they embraced in a heartfelt hug.
...
Far from the Duke’s estate, in the dim and shadowed expanse of the town square, stood Belle, waiting patiently for the King. Over thirty minutes had passed since her arrival, and there was still no sign of him. Could he have reconsidered their agreement? Or perhaps some unforeseen duty had delayed him?
Unease began to coil in her thoughts. If the King backed out on their arrangement, all her plans would be shattered. He was the fastest and most effective path to her revenge. To achieve such goals through her own means would take years, years during which Quinn might father children with another. If only she hadn’t lost her child, she thought bitterly, she would have been content to secure the divorce, retreat somewhere remote, and raise her little one in peace.