Chapter 210

Chapter 210

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.

Leopold's eyes were truly different now. She saw herself reflected in his pupils, along with the love that finally—clearly, undeniably—filled them to the brim.

"You said I'm your wife, right?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "But who do you actually like? Me as Octavia, or me pretending to be Claire?"

Leopold looked at her, silent for two seconds. "Is there a difference?"

"Yes." Octavia lowered her head. "You said you liked Octavia. When you said it, I was right in front of you, but I didn't even know if I was still Octavia anymore. You like that brave, decisive-at-work Octavia, don't you? That really is me. But the person who spent time with you as Claire—that was also me. To you, those were two different people. You liked one of them, but the one you didn't like… that was also me."

"Leopold, I'm actually not that smart. I can't figure out whether you truly like the real me or not. I get scared too. I'm a coward, which is why I didn't dare tell you the truth. Now that you've discovered that the Claire you didn't like is also me… do you still think you like Octavia?"

After she slowly finished speaking, Leopold said nothing.

His fingers moved from her cheek, taking her hand instead and enclosing it in his palm.

After a long while, she finally heard his calm voice.

"From the beginning, I knew you weren't Claire."

Octavia's head snapped up.

"Claire didn't know medicine. She wouldn't challenge people at board meetings. She couldn't handle all that pressure alone. You actually left plenty of clues. I had John investigate early on. So… you not being Claire—I always knew."

Leopold smiled slightly, lowering his head to meet Octavia's eyes.

"I always knew you were Octavia."

Octavia froze.

Her mind went blank, a buzzing filling her ears.

After a long moment, she managed to ask, "Then why didn't you call me out?"

Leaving her to struggle alone with doubt, hesitation, and fear.

Leopold fell silent for a while, as if organizing his thoughts.

"You might not believe this when I say it." He looked at her. "I'm actually a pretty terrible person."

Octavia didn't understand, staring at him blankly.

"I don't like things being out of my control." Leopold's voice dropped lower. "After you arrived, I realized I couldn't read you. You weren't afraid of me like everyone else. You didn't try to please me like everyone else. You weren't even like yourself—every expression you wore in front of me, every word you said, was carefully calculated. I wanted to know what you were really after, so I didn't expose you."

"I thought if I just waited, you'd eventually tell me yourself. Later, I learned you came to the Seymour Family to investigate your parents' case, and I confirmed you weren't Claire. I told myself it was fine, I could wait—wait until you finished your investigation, until you felt you could trust me. Then you'd tell me."

He paused, his lips curving into a smile tinged with self-mockery.

"In my mind, you coming to me voluntarily to confess was something that should naturally happen. But I forgot—you'd heard what a terrible, frightening person I was. Of course you didn't trust me. That was completely normal. Besides, the people around you had never caught the trust you threw their way."

"You not daring to tell me—that wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"I should have told you earlier that I knew you weren't Claire. I should have told you earlier that I didn't care who you were. I should have told you earlier that the person I liked, from beginning to end, was you."

Tears spilled from Octavia's eyes again.

"I'm sorry." Leopold kept repeating it. "I should have told you sooner."

So he knew regret too.

After a long moment, Octavia shook her head.

She didn't know what to say or how to say it.

When she couldn't find the answer, she chose to say nothing at all.

Octavia released his hand and carefully burrowed into Leopold's embrace, burying her face in the curve of his shoulder. Finally feeling safe, she gently nuzzled his neck with her cheek.

Leopold's hand rose to rest on her back, patting gently in a steady, unhurried rhythm, like soothing a child cried out from exhaustion.

"I'm so sick of all of this." Her voice came out muffled. "I hate Claire. I hate Marshall. I hate Imogen. And I hate Lucas. I hate every single one of them."

Her voice carried a vulnerability that the always-formidable Octavia had never shown before. Leopold thought she was about to launch into complaints and listened patiently, but she didn't complain much at all.

"I hate how fate always does this to me. I finally manage to like someone, finally feel like I can trust them, and then it pulls this. You almost died, Leopold. You almost died."

Leopold's hand paused on her back for a moment, then continued its gentle patting.

"I'm sorry." He'd never apologized this frequently in his life.

"Do you know how I felt when I saw that news?" Octavia's voice shook. "I thought you were dead. I thought I'd never see you again. I didn't even get to see you one last time, and your last message to me was about divorce. I kept thinking—why did I send that message? Why did I turn off my phone? Why didn't I tell you sooner?"

"Tell me what?" Leopold asked softly.

Octavia lifted her head from his shoulder, looking at him through tear-blurred eyes. She actually looked a bit of a mess from crying, but Leopold thought she'd never been more beautiful.

"Tell you that I like you."