Chapter 200

Chapter 200

Monica froze for a moment, not expecting him to ask that.

"Who, Claire?" She was halfway through her response when it hit her.

He was asking about Octavia.

Monica thought about everything Octavia had done all this time and pursed her lips.

"Of course I'm mad. Even if she was forced into it, she had so many chances to come clean. She kept us in the dark for so long, played us like fools—she's still a liar. When I find her, I'm definitely going to give her a piece of my mind. After I'm done yelling, then we'll talk about everything else."

Leopold listened, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, though his expression remained unreadable.

He was only thinking that if even Monica was this angry, Octavia must have assumed he'd be even angrier.

No wonder she didn't want to tell him. No wonder she'd rather shoulder everything alone than tell him the truth.

He remembered the message she'd sent.

She wasn't testing him—she genuinely wanted to leave.

She thought that once he knew the truth, he'd hate her, find her disgusting, think she was a woman who'd stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

She was afraid of him, afraid he was exactly like the rumors said—violent, cold, ruthless, someone who'd go to any lengths to get revenge on her.

But she didn't know that he'd never thought of her that way.

Leopold leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment.

After a long silence, his voice finally broke through again.

"Monica."

Monica perked up immediately. "Yeah?"

She thought she'd finally get to teach Claire a lesson, but instead heard Leopold say quietly, "I think I regret it."

Monica didn't understand. "Regret what? Regret going through with the marriage? Claire is pretty stupid, she's not fit to be your wife. But Octavia's actually not bad, right? Sure, she lied to us, but at least she's way better than Claire. Plus she can heal people—didn't she cure your eyes?"

Leopold opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not what I'm talking about."

Monica froze. "Then what?"

Leopold's gaze moved from her face to the gray, overcast sky outside the window.

"I shouldn't have let all those rumors about me being dangerous spread."

His voice was low, as if he were speaking to Monica but also to himself.

"I shouldn't have made everyone afraid of me, made Octavia afraid of me, made her think that once I knew the truth, I'd treat her badly."

Monica was completely stunned.

Her mouth fell open, eyes wide as she stared at Leopold, unable to say a word for several long seconds.

She'd never heard Leopold talk like this before.

Leopold never cared what people thought of him, never cared whether people were afraid of him.

He'd even thought it was a good thing to make people fear him—it meant no one would dare mess with the Seymour Family.

But now he was saying he regretted it.

Not that he regretted marrying Octavia, not that he regretted helping her so much, but that he regretted being too cold—so cold that Octavia didn't dare trust him, didn't dare rely on him, would rather shoulder everything alone than tell him the truth.

Monica stood there, staring at Leopold's expressionless face, and suddenly felt her nose sting.

She'd never known Leopold thought this way.

She'd assumed he didn't care about anything, that he didn't care what anyone thought of him.

But now she realized—he did care. He cared what Octavia thought of him, cared whether Octavia was afraid of him.

"Leopold," she called out, not knowing what else to say.

Leopold didn't look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the window, as if looking at something very far away.

The living room fell silent except for the ticking of the wall clock, each second marking time with a steady rhythm.

Claire was still kneeling on the floor, but she didn't dare make a sound anymore.

She looked at Leopold's profile, at an expression she'd never seen on him before, and the last shred of hope in her heart slowly disappeared, replaced by an indescribable fear that seeped out from her very bones.

Meanwhile, in Veridian, dawn had broken.

Octavia sat by the window, phone in hand, staring at the message she'd sent.

Leopold dealt with countless messages every day. Even if he didn't notice it himself, John would read them to him.

There was no way he hadn't seen her message.

She didn't know what his silence meant—whether he didn't want to reply or didn't know what to say.

Maybe he simply didn't think a liar's message deserved a response.

Outside the window stretched an unfamiliar cityscape. This city's mornings were quiet, with only the occasional pigeon flying over the rooftops, their wings fluttering with sounds that echoed through the empty streets.

She stared at her phone screen for a long time before exiting the conversation and opening her social media app.

Her name was still trending. She'd expected to open her phone this morning to a flood of hateful comments, to see more dirt dug up about her.

But when she clicked into the topic, what she saw made her freeze.

The official Seymour Group account had posted something—posted in the early morning hours, which would have been midday back home.

The content was brief, just one sentence, not even an accompanying image.

[Mr. Seymour says Mrs. Seymour can be whoever she wants to be.]

Below that post, the comments section had already exploded.

Octavia stared at that line of text, her entire body going still as if frozen.

Sierra emerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping wet. Seeing Octavia's strange expression, she walked over and glanced at the phone screen, then froze too.

"The Seymour Group posted this?" She snatched the phone away, scrolling up and down several times to confirm the account verification was real, the timestamp wasn't photoshopped, and the comments section had indeed blown up.

And the direction of the explosion was completely different from last night.

[The Seymour Group is backing Octavia? Wait, she committed marriage fraud though—Mr. Seymour isn't angry?]

[Mrs. Seymour can be whoever she wants to be—that's way too doting, isn't it? I'm jealous.]

[Hold on, so what Mr. Seymour means is, whether she's Octavia or Claire, he recognizes her as the person she is?]

[Isn't this publicly taking sides? The Seymour Group itself is stepping in to back Octavia up.]

[But her identity fraud is a fact—Mr. Seymour really doesn't mind?]

[Why do you care if he minds or not? Her own husband doesn't mind, but random internet strangers are getting offended on his behalf.]

[So this is what wealthy families are like? Too blissful.]

[Am I the only one who noticed the wording? Whether it's Octavia or Claire doesn't matter at all—Mr. Seymour doesn't care what she's called. What he cares about is that she's his wife!]

[A wife is a wife. A wife could never be a fraud. Wishing them happiness!]

Sierra finished reading through the comments and handed the phone back to Octavia, her expression shifting from shock to confusion.

"Octavia, is Leopold... helping you?" Her tone carried uncertainty. "Isn't he basically saying he doesn't care who you are, that he recognizes you as a person? In terms of public opinion, this is like directly taking your side."