Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

Leaving the altar, they returned to the East Palace.

Tadasuke was already kneeling in front of the hall, waiting. In front of her, on the ground, were two trays. The trays contained neatly arranged clothes for changing.

Seeing Clint and Joyce return to the East Palace, Tadasuke bowed respectfully, “Your Highness, please change your clothes. Madam, please change your clothes.”

Clint stepped into the hall, “Bandage her wound.”

“Yes,” Tadasuke nodded.

Joyce glanced at her arm. Her clothes were torn, and there was a cut on her arm. It wasn’t serious; it had stopped bleeding.

“It’s just a small wound. It’s nothing.”

Clearly, Clint’s cut was much more severe than hers.

Tadasuke noticed as well and instructed a servant, “Call a doctor to treat His Highness’s wound.”

“Yes,” the servant responded.

“Do you get cut every time there’s a sacrificial ceremony?” Joyce asked curiously.

Clint glanced at Joyce without answering directly, “You’ll find out in due time.”

Joyce, “…”

Joyce followed Tadasuke to a side hall to treat her arm and change clothes.

Her wound was simple to handle. After applying iodine and some white ointment, it was covered with gauze.

Then she changed into a dress suit that matched her usual style-simple and elegant, fitting perfectly. Even the shoes were her regular brand.

Tadasuke said from the side, “These clothes were specially prepared for you by His Highness.”

Joyce responded with an “Oh.”

It seemed that during their time in Khebury, Clint had been paying attention to her daily life and preferences. He had planned this all along.

“We are leaving the East Palace today,” Joyce apologized to Tadasuke. “I was impulsive before; I won’t cause you any more trouble.”

Tadasuke’s lips trembled; she didn’t dare respond or make a sound. She felt a newfound respect for Joyce. Everyone had heard about how Joyce’s precise shooting spared the guards from punishment today and admired her greatly.

After changing clothes,

Joyce returned to the main hall of the East Palace.

Clint had also changed his clothes and stood in the main hall. A servant presented him with a tray containing several watches for him to choose from.

Clint selected a gold watch with a black dial and put it on.

With a gentle clasp of his wrist, he exuded elegance in every movement.

Joyce glanced at him. She recognized the brand; their watches were niche designs starting at millions of dollars-extremely luxurious. Luther also liked collecting watches from this brand.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

After putting on his watch, Clint turned around.

His high-end luxury brand suit fit him perfectly, highlighting his refined temperament and adding an extra touch of elegance and nobility.

Indeed, clothes make the man.

In modern attire, Clint looked like a different person.

He adjusted his tie and saw Joyce approaching. He extended his hand, “Come with me.”

Although Clint indicated for her to hold his hand,

Joyce ignored him and put her hands behind her back, only responding with an “Mm.”

Clint withdrew his hand without saying anything and walked ahead.

Joyce followed behind him.

One after another, they walked out of the hall and through the gate that Joyce had previously tried to force open.

After stepping outside the gate, Joyce couldn’t help but look back.

She hadn’t expected to walk out so openly like this.

All her previous efforts had been in vain.

Outside the hall was a small square.

Three Bentley cars were parked in the square, with an extended Bentley in the middle. Clearly, the front and rear cars were escorts; the middle one was Clint’s vehicle.

Joyce tugged at Clint’s sleeve, “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Clint replied.

Joyce, “…”

Home? Whose home? She didn’t want to go to his home.

“Your usual residence?” she asked.

“Yes,” Clint nodded.

“Where is your home?” Joyce asked again.

“Central District,” Clint led Joyce to the extended Bentley car. “Get in.”

Joyce looked around; security was tight-not the right time.

So she got into the car first.

Clint also got in and sat next to Joyce in the back seat. The rear seats were separated like airplane seats-comfortable and spacious.

As the Bentley started moving away from the East Palace,

Joyce looked out at its full view-its walls stretching grandly and impressively. She couldn’t help but marvel internally; indeed, a royal nation was different. The cultural customs were distinct and incomparable to hers-a nation still ruled by warlords like Chris’s country where both military leaders and royalty coexisted. Rohomes having royalty was not surprising either.

She needed to familiarize herself with this place’s customs and culture thoroughly.

As they drove farther away,

Joyce glanced at Clint. He had closed his eyes to rest; the lengthy sacrificial ceremony seemed to have exhausted him. His handsome face looked slightly pale as he occasionally coughed lightly.

His body was still weak and couldn’t endure long periods of strain.

Joyce weighed her options internally-the driver focused on driving couldn’t pay attention to them.

Clint… might not be able to counteract her.

She quietly reached for her waist.

The gun Clint had given her earlier still had one bullet left.

Holding him hostage would be just right.

Though she didn’t understand why Clint left her such an opportunity,

She could only try.

In an instant,

Joyce swiftly drew out her gun from her waist within a second and pressed it against Clint’s temple.

“Tell your driver to stop by the roadside and let me out.”

They were currently in a bustling area.

As soon as she got out of the car, she could immediately blend into the crowd-making it hard for them to catch her quickly.

This way she’d have enough time to contact Luther or Reuben or Darrin-anyone who could help her escape back home.

So she waited until they reached a busy area before making her move.

The driver was startled; holding His Highness hostage was no small matter. He immediately turned on hazard lights and pulled over by the roadside-the front and rear cars also stopped upon noticing something amiss.

People passing by curiously watched three Bentleys parked by the roadside-it was quite a spectacle.

Clint slowly opened his eyes-unfazed by Joyce pointing a gun at his temple.

Joyce commanded coldly, “Tell your driver to open the door and let me out! Do you hear me?”