To My First Love, With Regret - 46

To entrust her son with the task of handing his birth mother over to a man who was not his father, it was a lunatic thing to do, even by her own reckoning. Yet, she went through with it because the marriage was not completely devoid of emotion for the groom.

Malice. The moment that feeling filled her to the brim, she felt she would spit out a curse instead of a wedding vow at that robber. I hope your death separates us very soon.

She had hoped that walking hand-in-hand with Tony would make it less revolting, but now there were two people walking who were disgusted by Kallas.

Still, Tony seemed to enjoy the adult game, seriously tidying his appearance. However, he deliberately ruffled his hair again, hopped over, and offered his hand to Eve.

—Let’s go.

Someone called out to Eve just as she was about to ascend the chapel steps, hand-in-hand with her son, and enter the wide-open doors.

—Lady Evelyn, it’s been a long time. Do you remember me?

She couldn’t possibly forget the voice that had once whispered love into her ear. Her heart hammered violently like a warning, but her eyes ignored the alarm and turned to the man leaning against the low wall next to the door in a careless posture.

Ethan Fairchild, who was slowly drawing on the cigarette between his fingers, was looking at Eve like a nightmare from which one could not wake up even by screaming.

The indifferent flick of his wrist as he knocked off the ash, and the rebellious smile that made her heart pound. Everything was the same as ten years ago, yet everything was different.

The cynical but passionate college student, who was both dangerously volatile and ardent, was dead. What had returned was a man dangerously intense, as if he had crawled out after experiencing the very bottom of the world.

She had heard rumors that Ethan Fairchild, who had followed his father into the world of crime, had become the second-in-command of a gang. Yet, why was he wearing an Air Force officer’s uniform? The Crown Prince of the Underworld would surely hold a higher rank than a Major.

Ethan Fairchild wore the uniform of a guardian who served the state, yet he exuded an aura of chaos, not order. This strange contradiction made the man’s presence even more sinister.

Their gazes clashed across the hazy smoke. His murky blue light sharply ensnared Eve.

Everything had changed, but one thing—his eyes—were exactly the same as they had been on that cold autumn night ten years ago when he glared at Eve, who carried his child in her womb.

His anger, which hadn’t dulled in the slightest over the long years, pierced Eve’s glass heart. It was a heart that had been shattered when her lover’s revulsion targeted even her. The glass fortress, which she had barely patched together during the long chaos, threatened to crack again.

Why did you come back? Why did you come back after abandoning us and leaving?

The fact that he appeared just as Eve was marrying another man was maddening. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He clearly had an agenda. A terribly impure agenda.

Eve swallowed a breath down her trembling throat, suppressing the rising indignation. She asked the traitor, whose voice she had never wanted to hear again until her dying day, in a voice frozen with ice:

—Why are you here?

—You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Ethan slowly removed the cigarette from his mouth and twisted his lips. That was not a smile. It was the expression a predator makes just before severing the breath of prey he has spent long hours tracking.

At that single expression, the pure white wedding dress felt like a shroud. The wedding march echoing from beyond the door sounded like a dirge mourning her death prematurely.

—I understand how you feel. It would have been courteous for me to die, so I apologize for the rudeness of being alive.

He was treating the woman who once swore to love him until death separated them as an enemy he wished to kill.

He did keep his vow. He loved her passionately only until death separated them. He just didn’t know that the death of a third party, not their own, would bring an end to that love.

But the attitude of taking the woman who fought to save that love as an enemy, too—no matter how hard she tried to understand, she couldn’t.

She wanted to challenge him, but the stares of the guests inside the chapel were too intense. Even more than that, what made Eve nervous was Tony, who was curious about the stranger.

They mustn’t meet.

Eve tore her gaze from the phantom of the past and tried to pull the child forward. But she couldn’t take a single step and had to lock eyes again with the man who blocked her path.

—Move.

—Eve, who is this naughty soldier?

—Ha…

Ethan looked down at the child, whom he hadn’t given a single glance to, as if he didn’t exist.

—Naughty boy, and who are you?

Eve’s breath hitched. That common question, who are you?, felt like a sharp blade slicing through her son’s face to expose her own mark. The moment he found out, everything she had precariously maintained would crumble, and the family would be plundered by yet another usurper.

No, there’s no way he could know.

Tony was the spitting image of Eve.

Except for the light blonde hair he inherited from the man. And those blue eyes, which had begun to show a faint hint of gray.

Oh, please, God…

Just as she was calling out to a God she no longer believed in, right before a union that would deceive Him, Tony scolded his biological father.

—How dare you call the Duke of Kentrell a naughty boy! Impudence!

—Ah, Your Grace?

Ethan smiled with delight even after being scolded by the arrogant child—a true Sherwood from the sprout.

I know exactly who you are.

There was no way he wouldn’t recognize his prey.

Once I kill you, the Kentrell Dukedom will be mine.

—My apologies for not recognizing you. The last Duke I saw was tall and fat, and the little Duke is far too small.

The child, sensitive about being smaller than his peers, bristled at being called small.

—Who are you to insult my family? Are you a king?

—In a sense.

Ethan, a usurper who had come to kill the little Duke, knelt before him like a loyal servant.

—My name is Ethan Fairchild. I’m a Cliffhaven local, born and raised in that lighthouse.

The blue eyes of the boy staring at him widened.

—Your Grace knows me. I wonder if I should call this an honor.

He asked, knowing Eve must have maligned him to the child as the murderer who killed your brother, the scoundrel who kidnapped your sister, or something similar.

—What did the Lady say about me?

—Listen. There’s something you need to get back from me, isn’t there?

Eve abruptly cut in, clearly meaning the insult was something he shouldn’t hear.

Listen. A phrase that treated him entirely like a beggar off the streets. And she looked down at the man who was once her husband with such contempt.

So, now I’m a beggar you’re too ashamed to even admit you know?

You threw me in jail to die, and now you’re creeped out because I’m back alive?

Ethan clenched his jaw hard. He forced himself to swallow the shards of his shattered pride and put on a mask of perfect composure, pretending to be unbothered.

He slowly stood up to face her again. The Duchess, whose face was veiled by the shadow of life’s hardship but was still beautiful, whispered, her features rigid as if facing this humble beggar was torture.

—I’ll give it back to you, so meet me here tomorrow at this time. Don’t interfere anymore.

By the way, he had no idea what she meant by what you need to get back.

Damn it, she makes me curious.

This woman had always been unnervingly good at making people curious enough to follow her. He had been tricked by that once, and his life was ruined, and now he was about to be tricked again.

Ethan pretended to yield to Eve’s ploy and stepped aside. The moment he did, she dismissed him as if he had vanished from the world. He glared at the bride’s retreating back as she walked past him, then shouted loud enough for the wedding blessing inside the chapel to be overshadowed.

—Tomorrow at this time? Won’t you be a happily married bride then? Since the Lady desires a secret rendezvous with me at such a time, this humble man dares not refuse. I offer my condolences to your poor groom in advance.

The laughter of the man she once loved pierced her back like a dagger, but Eve did not look back. She stared only forward, eyes wide as she swallowed her fury.

The moment she set foot on this thorny path, walking to escape her past, the past appeared like a ghost to shackle her ankle. With every step she took, fragments of her broken glass heart were crushed and dug into her flesh.

In her bloodshot eyes, insignificant enemies like the one before her were invisible. Thanks to this, she forgot her rage toward Dr. Kallas, but the wedding became a hell because of this new grievance.

As the time to exchange vows of love approached, Eve couldn’t help but utter a curse, though she herself didn’t know who it was truly aimed at.

—…Until your death separates us.