Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 78: First love

Chapter 78: First love

"You know," Hezekiah’s voice broke the silence as he appeared beside her, making Belle turn her head sharply in his direction.

"Why didn’t you tell me before? Is this the selfishness you speak of?" She asked, her tone edged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"Yes," he replied bluntly.

Belle scoffed, swallowing hard as she processed his response. After a brief moment of silence, she stepped closer to him and, with quiet resolve, said, "I will give you a chance. Try to win my heart. I am yours now."

Hezekiah froze, his expression stiffening as her words sank in. His arms dropped to his sides, and he moved closer, his eyes wide with disbelief. He needed to confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.

"What did you just say?" He asked, his voice laced with shock.

"I said I will give you the chance. I have got nothing to lose anyway," she repeated softly.

Suddenly, Hezekiah pulled her into a tight embrace, a wave of joy overtaking him. He laughed, his happiness overflowing.

"Thank you, Belle. I shall make you happy," he promised earnestly. Belle stayed silent, forcing herself to return a small, hesitant smile.

---

The days passed as usual. With the absence of the troublesome Duke, the castle was noticeably quieter, and the servants had little left to gossip about. News of Quinn’s departure had spread, and while some were merely curious, others had their own ideas about why it happened.

Belle became more withdrawn, throwing herself into the sessions with the governor’s maid with diligence. Since agreeing to Hezekiah’s request, he had made every effort to shower her with attention—taking her on outings, buying her gifts—but Belle struggled to muster genuine enthusiasm, accepting everything with a forced smile.

On one fateful afternoon, just five days before the mating ceremony, the King invited Belle to see a play in town.

"That poor girl," Belle murmured under her breath, watching the tragic end of a young girl who died for love and whose body was mistreated by her lover. The scene struck a nerve, and her mind drifted. Would Quinn have treated her body the same way if the King hadn’t intervened and saved her that day?

The thought made her uneasy. The play eerily mirrored her own story: a young girl, blinded by love, who took her life when she couldn’t bear her lover’s betrayal. From this perspective, she realized how foolish her thoughts of suicide had been back then. No wonder Mia had been so angry with her, scolding her relentlessly for her choices. Looking back, Belle couldn’t fault her, she had been acting recklessly, just like the girl in the play.

"This isn’t the end," Hezekiah leaned forward and whispered, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. Belle furrowed her brows, confused. What more could happen after the girl’s death? The story seemed finished.

On stage, the man who had played the lover knelt before the girl’s lifeless body, his voice shaking with remorse. "What have I done? Please come back to me, Rose! I was wrong to betray you. Your absence leaves me empty," he cried. The play ended with his own tragic death, consumed by regret.

"Satisfying, isn’t it?" Hezekiah commented, his tone casual. But Belle said nothing, her mind far away, lost in thought.

Was that how it was meant to end? Quinn regretting his choices, losing everything for her? But this was just a play, a piece of fiction. Life wasn’t a stage, and reality rarely mirrored art.

"Let’s take our leave," Hezekiah said softly, tapping Belle’s shoulder. She nodded and stood, following him out of the theater.

As they exited, they unexpectedly crossed paths with Quinn, who was holding hands with a strikingly unfamiliar woman. Belle stopped in her tracks when their eyes met, but the intensity of the moment made her lower her gaze. Her eyes unwillingly settled on their interlaced hands.

The woman beside Quinn was dressed seductively, her ample cleavage on full display and a long slit exposing her fair thighs. The outfit was undeniably enticing, designed to make any man’s resolve falter. The whispers about Quinn visiting brothels began to resurface in Belle’s mind. Could the rumors actually have been true? But then again, it had been over a year, perhaps his habits had changed. Or had they?

"Quinn," Hezekiah called smoothly, catching Belle’s attention and intertwining his fingers with hers, a deliberate gesture Quinn immediately noticed.

"Your Majesty, Lady Belle," Quinn greeted with cold detachment, his voice devoid of familiarity, as though addressing strangers.

"The king?" The sultry woman beside him purred, her voice laced with curiosity. Quinn gave her a brief nod, and she smiled wider, her interest apparent.

"Your Majesty," she cooed, leaning forward in an exaggerated show of respect that exposed her already open cleavage more. Belle couldn’t suppress the wave of disgust that rose within her, everything about this woman screamed scandal. Her suspicions were confirmed: this woman was no ordinary companion, she was undoubtedly a prostitute. To bring a prostitute to a play in broad daylight? It was almost as if Quinn wanted the rumors to stick.

"You must be his new woman. Miss...?" Hezekiah began, arching a brow as he waited for her to respond.

"Bella," the woman replied with a flirtatious smile. Belle’s head snapped toward her in disbelief, startled by the name. Could it be a coincidence?

"Oh, fascinating. Bella, you say?" Hezekiah remarked, his tone laced with mockery. "What a peculiar coincidence," he added with a knowing smile that only deepened the tension.

Quinn, fully understanding the insinuation, returned the smile but tightened his grip on Bella’s hand. "What can I say? It’s hard moving on from your first love," he murmured, his eyes locking with Hezekiah’s, his tone carrying a sharp edge.

’First love? Me?’ Belle’s thoughts raced at his words. Was that directed at her? But no, everyone knew his infamous first love had been a childhood friend he once attempted to elope with during her arranged marriage. If she remembered correctly, her name had been Rotella. Bella didn’t seem to fit into that name... or did it?

"The name of your first love was Bella? How fitting," Hezekiah replied coolly, his tone dripping with subtle mockery. Belle could sense the cryptic exchange between them, a clash of words layered with hidden barbs. She didn’t fully grasp the meaning but could feel the tension crackling in the air.

"I think we should go," Belle interjected, placing her other hand atop Hezekiah’s. She offered a polite smile, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"We will take our leave, then," Hezekiah announced, possessively leading Belle away, his hand firmly grasping hers.

Quinn’s gaze lingered on their entwined hands, his jaw tightening. His anger flared, a bitter jealousy rising within him. Hezekiah was deliberately taunting him, knowing full well that he wasn’t over Belle.

"You are hurting me!" Bella suddenly whined, her voice breaking the spell. She winced and tried to pull away, and only then did Quinn realize how tightly he had been gripping her hand.

"Ray will get you your money. Leave immediately," he snapped coldly, his tone a sharp departure from his earlier demeanor. The harshness in his voice left Bella stunned.

"That cold bastard," Bella muttered under her breath as she massaged her sore hand, watching him walk away without so much as a glance back. With a huff, she turned in the opposite direction, leaving the theater behind.