To My First Love, With Regret - 100

Owen’s face contorted hideously as he realized he had been relegated to an ‘inferior defect,’ even worse than the ‘cowardly man who abandoned his wife.’ The pallor of his terror-stricken skin was instantly replaced by a deep, flushed crimson.

—That man is nothing more than a cowardly traitor who threw you away. I am the one who will stop at nothing for you, my Lady.

In that heartbeat, the primal fear of murder receded from his eyes like a low tide. The void it left was filled with nothing but a madness to trample his rival and rise above him. Owen swore his oath, his eyes glinting with a gaze so strained the capillaries seemed ready to burst.

—I will prove it to you. I will kill Chantal with my own hands.

Behind the mask of the Queen wearing a warm, radiant smile, Eve clicked her tongue in cold derision. She could never understand why people mocked jealousy as a female monopoly. In truth, was it not always men who were most vulnerable to that petty emotion, so easily losing their reason and lashing out?

With a flick of her finger, he crawled toward her on his knees without hesitation. Eve stroked the head of the dog who had taken the bait as if offering praise.

—Did you say Chantal cannot sleep without sedatives?

When Owen confirmed this, Eve added indifferently, as if predicting a tragic accident.

—You must be careful. I read in a magazine that accidents where people overdose and never wake up are quite common.

Instructing him on the very method of murder—could she be any kinder?

The fact that he wouldn’t have to see the blood he so loathesomely detested, despite being a doctor, seemed to lighten his heart considerably. Owen’s face brightened with a pathetic eagerness as he scrambled to his feet.

The determined silhouette of the hound vanished beyond the door. At that moment, Eve collapsed weakly onto the sofa like a marionette whose supporting strings had been cut. The small life inside her was already fiercely draining its mother’s strength.

She did not resist the wave of sleep that crashed over her. Her work was done.

The first domino had been pushed. Now, everything would collapse in a chain reaction according to her meticulous design.

Only one task remained: to become the spectator and leisurely watch as her enemies were crushed by the traps of their own making.

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Late at night, Owen tipped the white powder into a crystal glass with the practiced ease of a physician.

—Are you absolutely sure you can’t leave the army?

The powder danced in the water for a moment before dissolving without a trace, pretending to be nothing more than sugar. As he stared blankly at that deceptive tranquility, a foolish interrogation drifted from behind him. Owen swallowed a sigh and repeated the answer he had already recited dozens of times like a parrot.

—I can’t just discharge myself in the middle of a war.

—I know! I know! I’m telling you to at least transfer back here. Eve said she’d pull strings for you, so why do you insist on staying at the front lines?

Because the Queen’s true command for me is different.

Owen had stayed at the front to prove he was a man of worth, and as a medal for surviving that blood-soaked war, he had earned a precious child. He had conquered a vast territory at the cost of trembling in regret and fear every single day without running away.

The stupid woman, who still believed this returning hero was merely a slave at her feet, had no idea that the man before her had already claimed a great kingdom. She merely continued her petty lamentations.

—Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to hold out in this house alone? Ethan Fairchild is already acting like he owns the place, and you just leave me here? Are you actually comfortable with that?

Owen’s hand, reaching for the medicine vial again, paused in mid-air. The standard dose was already dissolved in the water. In other words, if he stopped here, he would have to listen to this insufferable whining tomorrow, and the day after that.

But what if he added just one more spoonful?

He wouldn’t have to listen to that soul-eroding whimpering anymore. He wouldn’t have to be summoned to this room every night like a gigolo to serve a fake queen.

He could go to Lady Evelyn’s bedroom with his head held high. They were a legal couple, after all. He could become the Queen’s ‘true husband’ without having to walk on eggshells around this washed-up whore.

Damn it, I should have killed her sooner.

His hesitation evaporated in an instant. Owen scooped out another full spoonful of powder, dumped it into the glass, and stirred. The white particles scattered through the water, completing the secret elixir of death.

He wiped the expression from his face and turned around. Approaching the bed, he wrapped an arm around Chantal’s shoulders—she was shivering, feigning fragility—and spoke in a deliberately tender voice.

—Chantal, don’t worry. I’ll be back by your side soon.

—…Really? Owen… I knew I only had you.

Mistakenly believing he had experienced a sudden change of heart, the woman’s surprise quickly turned into a triumphant smile. Owen offered the poison chalice to those smiling lips. In the darkness, the wedding rings—a pair on the hand giving and the hand receiving—glinted coldly.

Chantal, I’m sorry, but my vow to you only lasts ‘until death do us part.’

So hurry up, drink this poison, and die.

Gulp. As he listened to the sound of an eternal sleep sliding down her throat, Owen couldn’t suppress a shudder of thrill.

This wretched play ends tonight.

When tomorrow dawns, I will be a man solely for my true Queen. Together with the child she will bear, I will have the perfect family I’ve only ever seen in my dreams.

Madness glistened in the traitor’s eyes as he looked down at his former master, slowly sinking into the depths of death.

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The next morning, Eve opened her eyes earlier than usual. Her heart hammered against her ribs as if it had been sprinting all night, making it impossible to linger in bed.

Today would be the monumental day that Evelyn Sherwood achieved her vengeance with her own hands.

Eve sat before the mirror and combed her hair as leisurely as any other day, but her entire being was attuned to the ticking hands of the clock. Breakfast was approaching. Before she descended to the dining hall, the news she had been waiting for would surely arrive. And her prediction hit its mark.

—Lady Evelyn, it is Redgrave.

However, it was not the obituary Eve had so fervently anticipated.

—The Dowager Duchess is unconscious.

Chantal was still alive.

Eve hurried to Chantal’s bedroom. A maid standing at the foot of the bed bowed her head in greeting. Her face was ghastly pale; she was clearly the one who had entered to wake the Dowager Duchess only to find her in a comatose state.

Perched on the edge of the bed was Owen, who seemed to have arrived just after receiving the butler’s message. He was peeling back the eyelids of the woman sprawled out like a corpse. His feigned expression of gravity fractured for a split second the moment he looked at Eve.

He quickly masked his agitation and donned the persona of the attending physician. The hand holding the stethoscope against Chantal’s chest trembled ever so slightly. Eve was the only one who understood the true meaning of that tension. Seeing his weak display, a surge of fury rose within her.

‘You couldn’t even handle this one simple task properly?’

She wanted to slap Owen right then and there, but she could not risk exposing herself as the instigator of this attempted murder in front of witnesses. In an instant, Eve donned the mask of the innocent.

—Doctor, why won’t Chantal wake up?

When Eve asked with feigned ignorance, Owen swallowed hard and carefully picked up the empty water glass from the nightstand—ensuring the white powder crusted along the inner rim was clearly visible.

—It is too early to be certain of the cause, but it appears she has overdosed on the sedatives she takes regularly.

—My God… was she trying to commit suicide?

Eve pressed a hand to her forehead, hurling a contemptuous accusation at the woman who could no longer hear her.

—She’s determined to sully the honor of Kentrell until the very end! If word of this gets out, we’ll be plagued by scandal yet again. Hah… what is Tony to do with such an irresponsible woman for a mother?

No one would find Eve’s reaction heartless or excessive. It was only natural for the Princess of Kentrell to despise her cunning stepmother. Thus, prioritizing the family name over the woman’s well-being was a perfectly natural response.

Furthermore, Eve’s desperate attempt at a cover-up would be seen as a reasonable measure. When the previous Duchess—Eve’s mother—had ended her own life, Kentrell had already suffered a brutal fever of public scrutiny.

That was an event every citizen of Mercia knew. Even Redgrave, who had not been in Kentrell’s employ at the time, was well aware.

—Do not speak a word of what you have seen or heard here. Wait outside until I call for you again.

The astute butler firmly locked the maid’s lips with his gaze and sent her out before his mistress even had to order it.

It was exactly as Eve had calculated. Now, Redgrave would not leak the fact that the Dowager Duchess was half-dead until Eve gave the word. If anything, he would side with Eve, doing his utmost to protect the family rather than the woman.

Now, only one task remained.