To My First Love, With Regret - 33

—You look like a whore driven mad by this man……

However, her father made no attempt to search Eve’s clothes or belongings.

—I raised you delicately, and you go screw around with a worm like that?

How dare he insult my love by calling it the vulgar act of ‘screwing around’?

Eve glared at her father, wanting to kill him.

—Did he lure you out? Did you bring him in first? Did you incite that murderer’s spawn to kill your brother, I’m asking you!

—No! We didn’t kill Harry! If running away from your hellish estate is my only sin, that is all of it.

—No. You wanted to steal the heir’s position from Harry! To give my house to that lowly scoundrel!

Her father had seen right through Eve’s intentions.

—Are you carrying that vermin’s child?

A brutish hand gripped a handful of Eve’s hair, as she neither confirmed nor denied the question. Bloodshot blue eyes blazed in front of the eyes now welling up with tears from the pain of having her hair yanked.

Their breaths trembled. One from fear, the other from fury.

—The seed of a base murderer will absolutely never inherit my title.

Her father’s mouth curved deep into the loose folds of his skin. She realized the feeling that his twisted smile held murderous intent was not an illusion.

—Because I will sever its breath before it crawls out of your womb!

You killed my son, so I will kill your child. When she finally heard the declaration that had made her tremble with terror upon anticipating it, Eve was no longer afraid. Hatred was stronger than fear.

With that, Eve’s last lingering attachment was severed. The Duke of Kentrell was not her father. He never had been to Eve.

University, Ethan, and the child. He was the plunderer who had taken everything Eve wanted over her lifetime.

Hurry up and die yourself. That is the only way to stop this terrible exploitation of yours.

The moment she cursed him through gritted teeth, a startling realization dawned on her.

Yes… only you need to die.

That was practically the only way to save Ethan. As long as her father was alive, Ethan would be sentenced to death, regardless of the lawyer she found. Could she even find a lawyer without her father’s interference?

The roaring shout that echoed through the grand study seemed to have strained his heart. Eve, who was watching the middle-aged man clutch his chest and gasp for breath, curled the corner of her lips into a slanted smile.

His doctors had warned him. If his emotions became too intense, a blood vessel in his head could burst or his heart could stop, so the Duke had to be especially careful with his rage.

—Tell me where Harry is buried.

Her father glared at Eve through clenched teeth and spewed a reprimand through his ragged breaths.

—Are you planning to go there and brazenly offer repentance?

—No. I’m going to dance on that bastard’s grave and throw a party.

His skin-and-bone face contorted hideously. The Duke lifted his hand again as if to strike Eve, but instantly grimaced and clutched his chest again. It’s working. She didn’t even have to actively try to kill him.

—That son of a bitch deserved to die. How is it my fault that he died doing the things that got him killed?

She was only saying the things she had held back.

—I am glad the child you treasured finally died.

You die too.

—You, you mad, bitch…

His weakened body began to tremble violently, as if it might shatter at any moment. Noticing the change, Kallas grabbed hold of the Duke.

—Stop this, Lady. His Grace has not been well since the passing of your brother.

He spoke as if urging her to have pity on her poor father, but to Eve, it was the same as egging her on. Kallas helped the Duke toward a chair. Almost there. Before the man could regain his composure and ruin everything, Eve unleashed words filled with venom, firing them off like a machine gun.

—You never loved me; you only saw me as a slave to be sold off. Why is it being a whore when I won’t sell my body to the man you want? Who are you calling a whore, you old hog who slept with a syphilitic prostitute?

The Duke, who had been staggering, froze and slowly turned to look at Eve. His eyes were disbelieving. His face was flushed crimson. He must not have known that Eve knew everything.

—Wh-what?

The old hog’s blood rushed to his head, and he could only point an ineffectual, trembling finger. Eve finally sharpened the words she had held inside for so long and plunged them into her father’s heart.

—Do you know why the Queen told me to take the succession? Because she couldn’t stand the sight of your disgusting cock, which you used to shove into the holes of syphilitic whores, being thrust at aristocratic families while you demanded their daughters, and she couldn’t tolerate those cherished girls being violated by an old man!

Stunned by the base language of the Lady, whose speech was always refined despite its directness, Kallas forgot to restrain the Duke.

—How, how dare you say this to your father! Ugh!

The Duke, who had just erupted in fury, clutched his chest.

—Uh, ugh…

His face twisted strangely and turned blue.

—D-Duke!

Thud!

His staggering body crashed to the floor before Kallas could catch him.

—Chantal! Kallas the doctor!

As Kallas rushed out to find a doctor, Eve stared at her father’s convulsing body and then let out the laughter she had been holding in.

Father, I hope your death is painful.

Had he taken her pain with him? The throbbing, wavelike pain on her cheek was no longer felt.

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The old man was resilient. He didn’t die.

The stubborn old man, even as he was losing consciousness, commanded the servants who rushed to him to seize and lock up Eve. Her plan to grab some money and escape during the confusion was ruined.

To save Ethan, the first thing she needed wasn’t a lawyer; it was her freedom. If things continued like this, Ethan might truly become a man sentenced to death.

Confined to her bedroom, she was staring only at the lighthouse that lit up the sea, shining steadily even on the night his grandson was in jail, and she was starting to go mad.

—Miss.

Chantal came to see her.

—Why? Is Father gravely ill?

—No, he has regained consciousness and is resting comfortably.

Eve let out an exasperated sigh and regarded Chantal, who was acting strangely, with suspicion.

—Then why did you come to see me?

—I was just wondering if you needed anything. If your cheek hurts, or perhaps if you have any bleeding…

—To check if I miscarried? Father sent you. Get out immediately.

—No, Miss. His Grace doesn’t know. I just came because I was worried about you.

Chantal explained the reason for her visit to Eve, who hadn’t dropped her guard.

—Earlier today… my heart sank when I saw you get hit. It’s still pounding; I can’t calm down.

She seemed to be far more sensitive than she looked.

—I thought His Grace, despite everything, wasn’t a violent man toward women. That’s why I followed orders and brought you back, but I felt so sorry, as if I had made you get hit.

—Chantal, it wasn’t your fault.

—Thank you for saying so, but I keep regretting it. I should have let you run away on the way here…

The lifeless look in Eve’s eyes instantly revived at those words.

—Then help me escape now.

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Even in the dead of night, when everyone was asleep, her father had a maid sit outside the door, keeping his daughter locked up. Unaware that his daughter was escaping somewhere else.

Two dark figures appeared in the shadowy garden. When they reached the window beneath the Duchess’s bedroom, they propped the ladder they were carrying against the window.

Eve silently opened the window. She met eyes with Chantal, followed by Owen Kallas. Even while helping her escape like a thief, Dr. Kallas bowed his head to the Duchess, then gestured for her to toss the bag.

Eve had stuffed everything of value in the room into the heavy bag and dropped it down. The doctor caught it instantly and silently. Now it was Eve’s turn to escape.

She turned and climbed onto the windowsill, still wearing her skirt. Below the window, Dr. Kallas averted his gaze, his face flushed.

This was the longest ladder she had ever encountered, long enough to reach the second floor. Eve told herself repeatedly as she stepped onto the first rung:

This is the same as climbing down the ladder of a yacht or a swimming pool.

She carefully descended one rung at a time, persuading her trembling legs. Halfway down, Dr. Kallas offered his hand to Eve.

She didn’t hesitate to take it. Thanks to him, she reached the ground more quickly.

—Thank you, Doctor.

—…You’re welcome.

The Doctor seemed oddly tense. Perhaps this was the first time he’d committed a transgression like helping someone run away, having lived his life as a model student.

—You should go back now.

Chantal told the Doctor to put the ladder back in place, then followed Eve, who was retreating into the darkness of the garden.

—Thank you. You should hurry back before you get caught too.

—Where are you going?