Chapter 579: Taking the King’s DNA

The Princess was still bustling about, urging the King to pack up so they could return quickly. She was organizing their belongings, hoping to depart by tomorrow at the latest to avoid any unforeseen complications.

Hearing a knock on the ward door, the Princess went to answer it. "Who is it?"

The moment she opened the door, disaster struck.

Quentin Blackwood had effortlessly lured the Princess out and had her abducted in plain sight.

After all, this was Quentin’s territory. To say he wielded absolute power here would be an understatement. If he could rescue the Princess, he could just as easily kidnap her.

Hearing the commotion, the King came out to check, only to find the Princess gone.

Instead, Quentin was standing at the door.

"Mr. Ovillette, I had someone invite the Princess away," Quentin said straightforwardly. "I can assure you that no harm will come to her. It’s just that her presence makes certain matters a bit inconvenient. Once I confirm a few things—and if my suspicions prove wrong—I will have her released immediately."

"Where is Ivy?" the King asked.

Quentin paused, surprised that the King hadn’t immediately expressed concern for his own wife, but instead asked about Ivy first.

"Why are you so concerned about my wife, Mr. Ovillette? You don’t even know her, do you?"

Ovillette didn’t know why he cared so much about Ivy either. There was just a faint anticipation in his heart; he seemed to yearn to see her.

It was an emotion he couldn’t quite articulate, acting almost like a guiding force.

"She is my benefactor, in a way. I want to thank her in person."

"She’s downstairs, having coffee with Ayre."

Ovillette nodded. "When do you plan to get married?"

At the mention of marriage, the corners of Quentin’s lips instinctively curled upward. "We’re planning to get our marriage certificate next month. The wedding is currently in the works."

Quentin was personally planning the wedding. He wanted to give Ivy the grandest ceremony possible. He had already prepared her wedding dress and planned to take her for a fitting in the next couple of days.

Ovillette nodded, yet an inexplicable, faint sense of sorrow washed over him. It felt exactly like watching a prized jewel being snatched by a thief, even though this matter clearly had nothing to do with him.

"Alright. Let me know when you get married. I’ll come and have a drink to celebrate."

"No problem. Ivy would definitely be thrilled if you came."

"Mm," Ovillette nodded, then asked, "Last time, you mentioned... Winter Mercer... she..."

Just uttering that name sent a sharp ache through Ovillette’s heart. "She..."

His voice choked up. He wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

"Is she in Lustre?" he finally managed to ask.

"Caleb Blackwood dug up her grave and stole her ashes," Quentin explained. "He used them to force Ivy to marry his son, attempting to seize the entire inheritance she left behind. The ashes are now in Ivy’s possession."

Ovillette parted his lips, his fists clenching tightly by his sides.

Dug up her grave and stole her ashes...

Those words grated harshly against his ears.

Just how deranged did a person have to be to dig up someone’s ashes?

"Do you smoke?"

Seeing Ovillette’s silence, Quentin pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it to him.

Ovillette wasn’t originally a smoker, but at this moment, he suddenly craved one.

"Thank you." He took a cigarette, and Quentin handed over his lighter.

The cigarette was quickly finished. Ovillette stubbed out the butt and moved to toss it into a nearby trash can.

"Give it to me," Quentin interjected. "They don’t allow throwing cigarette butts in here. I’ll toss it outside when I leave later."

"It’s no trouble. I can throw it away myself." The King didn’t want to bother Quentin with such a trivial task.

Quentin pointed. "Just in the trash can right outside."

The King walked over and dropped the butt into the ashtray perched on top of the bin.

If nothing else, the ashtray was remarkably clean.

After the King set it down, Quentin said, "I’ll be taking my leave now. I just came to inform you, Mr. Ovillette. Don’t worry about the Princess; I guarantee her safety."

The King nodded. He felt that this Quentin Blackwood didn’t seem like a bad person, and neither was Ivy.

As Quentin turned around, he sent a message to Zion Landon.

Zion arrived shortly after and retrieved the cigarette butt.

Quentin headed downstairs to find Ivy. He couldn’t help but worry about leaving her alone with another handsome man. What if she got charmed away?

The King, initially intending to stay upstairs, thought for a moment and followed Quentin down.

Quentin walked into the café. Ivy and Ayre had just about wrapped up their conversation and were getting ready to leave when they saw him approach.

She waved at Ayre. "See you next time in Elandra."

"Alright," Ayre nodded.

Quentin placed a hand on Ivy’s waist and guided her to the car waiting outside.

Watching this from a distance, Ovillette caught a fleeting glimpse of Ivy’s side profile. A sudden, splitting pain erupted in his head, as if something sharp was piercing directly into his nerves.

He clutched his head, gasping for air, but his unblinking eyes remained fixed on the direction Ivy and Quentin were leaving. By then, he could only see her retreating back.

Ivy...

He wanted to call out her name, but his head hurt far too much.

At that exact second, Ivy’s footsteps faltered. She glanced around but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"What’s wrong?" Quentin noticed her pause.

"Nothing," Ivy replied.

It just felt as though someone had been calling out to her.

The car was parked right by the curb. Quentin opened the passenger door for Ivy, then leaned in to buckle her seatbelt. Only then did he walk over to the driver’s seat. Driving the car himself, the two departed.

Ovillette stared at the spot where the car had vanished, unable to tear his gaze away for a long time.

Ivy... Ivy...

Why did she make him feel so entirely different? And why was this agonizing sensation so unprecedented?

Just then, Ayre stepped out of the café. As he was heading back to the hospital, he spotted Ovillette.

"Ovillette? Why did you come down?"

"Ivy..."

"Ivy already left. Where’s my sister? Didn’t she say she wanted to head back to Elandra?"

"We might not be going back for the next few days," the King said. "She was invited out as a guest."

Ayre looked surprised. "Invited by whom? So suddenly?"

This was the Princess’s first time in Calypsos, and she hardly knew anyone here. Who would invite her out?

The King hadn’t been very specific, so Ayre assumed some wealthy socialites in Calypsos had heard of the Princess’s arrival and invited her for a gathering.

That was fine, though. It would be good for his sister to enjoy herself here.

However, the "invited guest" currently had her mouth sealed shut with duct tape, left utterly helpless with no one to answer her muffled cries.

Didn’t she look down on people like them? Quentin was going to show the Princess that she wasn’t so high and mighty after all. When reduced to a captive with her life in someone else’s hands, she was even worse off than an ordinary commoner.