Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 216: Dirty Confessions IV

Chapter 216: Dirty Confessions IV

"Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" Atticus asked rhetorically. "I was asking a simple question― surely there is no need for such theatrics."

He lounged back on his chair as he shot Daphne a mischievous look. Francessa caught it and thought it strange, but then she had no time nor energy to worry about some little maid from the palace. Her life and fortune were in jeopardy!

Yet she could not move a single muscle to incapacitate herself. Her slamming her own head onto the table only resulted in giving her a headache before the king stopped her.

"Three years is a mighty long time. You’ve certainly managed to keep it under wraps very well, Marchioness Seibert," Atticus mused. His expression then turned serious. "Next question, were you aware that Eugene Attonson was secretly a criminal before entering a partnership with him?"

"I―" Francessa bit her tongue hard enough to bleed, but it wasn’t enough to stop the blue kyanite from working their magic. "Yes! Or at least, I had considered it possible. I was suspicious of him before, but I knew he was up to something nefarious when he started showing off his artifacts! No upstanding nobility would have that much money to splurge!"

"And you still agreed to work with him? For over three years, at that!" Atticus laughed coldly, shaking his head in disbelief. The smile on his face turned colder and colder as the seconds ticked by. "You are a very greedy woman, aren’t you, Lady Francessa?"

This time, Francessa replied rather willingly. "I do what I need to survive. The life I want to live is not one that will fall into my lap without effort, Your Majesty. Is it wrong to work hard towards my dream lifestyle?"

"Of course not," Atticus answered swiftly. "But it becomes my problem when you’re endangering the safety of my people, as well as overstepping your boundaries in more ways than one. The law isn’t just for show, you know, Marchioness?"

Francessa turned her head down. Even with a rhetorical question, the blue kyanite didn’t seem like it was willing to give her a rest.

"I thought myself above it," she murmured. "And I would’ve gotten away with it too if it weren’t for Lucien, that idiot."

"Lucien Seibert kept his lips tightly sealed for a rather long time," Atticus confessed. "I do pity the man, actually. He doesn’t deserve a wife like you."

"Damn right, he doesn’t!" Francessa Seibert screeched, almost deranged. "What has he done for me as a husband? All he knows is to go out and have the time of his life while I work my ass off day and night, running our businesses. He might be a well-known merchant but his fame and fortune is all because of me. Me! If he would just spend his time managing his ventures rather than gallivanting off with who-knows-which woman, we could’ve made an even bigger fortune over the years!"

As she spoke, Francessa Seibert had tears of indignation in her eyes.

"He is a useless man unbefitting of his title!" she screamed. "A marquis in name and yet, I manage everything. All the way from his finances and his job, to smaller things like how the household is to be run. Lucien Seibert is a sorry excuse of a husband and a pathetic excuse of a man."

"You claim that he is out looking for other women but, Lady Francessa, you cannot be more wrong," Atticus said gravely. He leaned a little forward, resting his elbow on the table. "Lucien Seibert might not be the husband that you want but he is, first and foremost, a dedicated man. When I said that he didn’t deserve a wife like you, I meant that he deserved someone who would appreciate him more."

Hearing King Atticus’s words, Francessa slumped down in her seat. Her posture slackened as a dumbfounded expression wormed its way onto her face. She was rarely caught off guard but here she was, completely shell-shocked.

"Your thirst for power has driven you blind," Atticus continued, ignoring Francessa Seibert’s gaping mouth and look of bewilderment. "Lucien Seibert had loved you in the best way he could despite the cold front you’ve always provided him. And yet, you trod on his good intentions while playing the role of a ’good, loving wife’ while in front of the other noble ladies."

"Is this what he told you, Your Majesty?" Francessa asked. "Were these the lies that were fed to you, the lies that caused you to interrogate me in such a crude way?"

"You should know better the pain one might feel when they lie under the influence of blue kyanite," Atticus said, folding his arms across his chest.

He then said again, this time, in a much softer voice, "Lucien Seibert tried to evade the blue kyanite’s effects in fear that you would get into trouble if he spoke the truth. Until the end, he tried to protect you."

"There’s no need to pretend he made a great, valiant sacrifice for love, Your Majesty," Marchioness Francessa spat out. "In the end, he still spilled all this information to you. That’s why we’re sitting here in the first place. If he really was the perfect lover, he should’ve died with that secret."

A collective gasp resounded through the restaurant. It was only then did Francessa took the time to assess her surroundings. She looked around, her eyes widening and her face losing more and more color when she realized the pairs of eyes that were glued onto her.

"Wait..." she murmured, attempting to backtrack. "Wait... these people..."

"Can hear you loud and clear," Atticus supplied the answer for her. "Now," he tapped on the table, "how much money did you steal from the commoners living under your wardship?"

Now that she knew everyone was listening in to her answers, Francessa pressed her lips tightly together. She even plastered her hand over her mouth, refusing to let another word leak out. Everything had already gone so horribly wrong. One more dirty confession and she would no longer have any road to salvation, no matter which kingdom she went to!

Daphne watched, delighted as the pain caught up to Francessa, causing tears to well up in her eyes. Paired with her pale face and her tangled hair, the once mighty Marchioness looked incredibly pitiful and pathetic.

"Perhaps you need a little bit more motivation," Atticus said, grinning. "My love, would you do the honors?"

Francessa looked up, confused for a second at Atticus’s sudden term of endearment. Her eyes followed his line of sight, landing on the palace maid that still stood right next to their table.

Light danced in the maid’s eyes. She said, "With pleasure, my dear."