To My First Love, With Regret - 51

A twisted sense of satisfaction flickered in his blue-gray eyes as his gaze traveled down the line of Eve’s throat. The hands that had gripped her shoulders began to slide slowly down her body. His rough fingertips grazed her exposed skin. As she froze under his touch, the man whispered like a lover sharing a secret—as if she were truly his bride.

—Did you pick out this dress yourself?

Ethan raised his gaze once more to meet her eyes. He didn’t press for an answer, nor did he let his hands wander greedily as they reached her chest. He simply watched her, staring into eyes that were growing hazy with sorrowful tears.

The moment he gritted his teeth, his hands dove into the neckline of her dress. Instead of crying out in terror or screaming, Eve met him with chilling disdain.

—Congratulations. You’ve finally become the same kind of beast as Harry ‘the man you hated so much you killed him’.

In that instant, the corner of Ethan’s mouth twitched convulsively. Through teeth clenched tight enough to shatter, he ground out every syllable of her name.

—Evelyn Anne Victoria Sherwood.

Over the unfamiliar contempt in his voice, an affectionate memory of that same name overlapped like a ghost.

Lady Evelyn Anne Victoria Sherwood, will you marry me?

Eve was still mourning, unable to let go of her dead husband. Only the form of her mourning was wrong. This was a time when she should have been wearing funeral blacks instead of a wedding dress.

—And what about you? How are you any different from your father ‘the man who did nothing but frame me?’

Hardly waiting for the contempt to leave her lips, Ethan violently seized the front of her dress.

Watching the fall of someone you once loved is a miserable thing. Eve closed her eyes. The next moment, with a sharp rip, the fabric gave way. The chill of the night air struck her bare skin even before the predator’s breath could.

—White? You have no conscience.

The torn wedding dress fell to the floor, discarded like the last of Ethan Fairchild’s humanity.

What kind of beast would he choose to be now? She braced herself, waiting for the violation that was sure to follow. But the hands that had pulled away did not touch her again. Instead, the heavy thud of combat boots against the floor grew more distant. Only then did Eve open her eyes.

In that split second, the door swung open. The man’s dark silhouette vanished into the flood of light from the hallway.

Slam.

The door shut, and Eve was submerged in a silence that could no longer be called solitary, surrounded by the haunting remnants of the sensations he had left behind.

Ethan Fairchild had not forced himself on her. Why had he changed his mind at the last moment? Had he only intended to terrify her from the start? Whatever his intent, it was clear he was now a beast far beyond the realm of understanding.

Eve looked down at her feet. The white dress she had intended to discard anyway bore the vivid marks of where he had trampled it.

It was a message.

A declaration that he would crush her second marriage under his heel as well.

Go ahead. Trample it all you like.

As long as he didn’t interfere with her ultimate plan, Eve was perfectly fine with that.

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Tony’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he peered out the wide-open window.

Normally, this was the hour he’d be nodding off while listening to Dr. Callas’s tedious explanations. However, today’s biology lesson had been canceled thanks to the teacher being bedridden.

I wish that chain-smoker would give the four-eyes a drink every time there’s a science class. Perched on the windowsill and munching on a cherry tart, Tony was busy observing the chain-smoker who still had a cigarette clamped between his fingers.

A truck had arrived moments ago, and a group of men had swarmed out to begin hauling luggage into the manor. Seeing them in civilian clothes, Tony assumed they were gang members.

As they unloaded a frame covered in cloth from the truck, the boss, leaning against the driver’s side, issued a warning.

—Don’t scratch the painting. It’s a masterpiece you couldn’t buy even if you had the money.

That man was a gang leader. Rumor had it he had killed Tony’s older brother and even his father.

Because of those stories, Ethan Fairchild had been a hideous, ugly monster in Tony’s imagination. As with all villains in storybooks, a bad person couldn’t possibly be beautiful.

The laws of fairy tales—a world of stark black and white—shattered the moment he met Ethan Fairchild. How could a villain look like a prince from a story? And how could he be wearing such a cool air force officer’s uniform?

The nine years of belief that had crumbled upon meeting the man didn’t stop there.

My sister was married to our family’s mortal enemy? Why? How on earth did that happen? Tony didn’t think his sister was a bad person. As for standing on the side of his brother and father, he hadn’t even known them.

Tony was simply curious. After all, this man had made the always-elegant Eve throw cake in someone’s face.

Eve’s composure was like a fortified castle wall that rarely crumbled. The only person in the world who could break those walls was Tony himself.

But now, a second person had appeared.

What kind of person was Ethan Fairchild?

The villain, once clearly defined in black and white, had become a chaotic riddle of unknown colors.

So focused was he on watching that he didn’t even notice the vanilla ice cream melting down his tart, until his eyes met those of the smoker putting another cigarette to his lips. At that moment, a phrase flashed through Tony’s mind, and he shouted:

—Cake-face!

The man stopped mid-draw, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at Tony.

—I heard you got hit with a cake by Eve! Ha ha!

—My Lord, you look exactly like Harry.

—…….

Tony’s face turned beet red, as if he’d been slapped. Eve had always called Harry the shame of the family.

—Tony, you look just like Harry.

Eve had said the same thing, but the meaning was different. It was a lesson: If you behave badly, you’ll end up like Harry. She had said it because she was worried Tony might resemble him.

But this man had simply insulted Tony, implying, You’re a brat just like Harry.

How dare a villain call anyone a brat! It was time to display some ducal authority. Tony tilted his chin up, just like the old noblemen did, and tucked one hand behind his back.

—Did your parents not teach you any manners?

—And where did Your Grace learn manners, considering you have no father and your mother is a parasite?

Hardly had the taunt left Ethan’s lips when the tart plate came flying in his direction.

Clatter!

The plate crashed exactly where Ethan had been standing the moment he stepped aside. Mashed cherry juice and ice cream splattered everywhere.

—Dammit….

As Ethan pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the stains off his boots, the boy screamed:

—You should be honored! Cake is a luxury for a villain! Go get hit by seagull droppings, you brat!

—Remarkably like Harry.

And his end would likely be the same.

—Anthony Sherwood!

At the sound of the voice behind him, Ethan’s head turned instinctively. Eve was standing at an open window on the opposite side of the courtyard.

—Where did you learn to do such a thing…?

—But Eve threw cake in that bad guy’s face too!

—…It’s dangerous, so don’t sit on the windowsill. Get inside.

Eve’s words seemed like a retreat, but her gaze didn’t give an inch. That coldness, enough to freeze one’s very soul ‘Ethan knew that look’

The kid’s going to get an earful once they’re alone. The brat, who had acted as if he feared nothing in the world, seemed to fear his sister at least; he closed the window sullenly and went inside. As Eve prepared to turn away, Ethan shouted out audaciously:

—My Lady, our promised tryst ahead of your sacred wedding is approaching! I shall faithfully fill the void that your groom failed to fill last night.

Slam!

The window shut, and the moment Eve vanished, the smirking grin on Ethan’s face evaporated like a lie. It was as if, now that his only audience was gone, there was no longer a need to perform.

—Goddamn brat.

He lifted the cloth on the painting his men were moving to check for splatters, muttering a curse under his breath.

—The Sherwoods are all out of their minds.

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Please, don’t ever realize that Tony is your son.

As she watched the two of them while holding her breath, Ethan uttered words he never should have said to a child.

—And where did Your Grace learn manners, considering you have no father and your mother is a parasite?

Despite hearing such an insulting remark, the tension that had been coiling inside Eve strangely loosened.

Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. Was it because he was blinded solely by his desire for revenge against her? She felt a twisted sense of gratitude for the cruel indifference he showed toward Tony.

She pulled out a box she had kept buried in the deepest part of her safe for a very long time. Just facing the past contained within it made her chest ache like an old wound.

Thud.

As soon as she confirmed the specific item was inside, she shut the box as if sealing away the past once more. Then, she walked down the hallway.

—No, a bit higher. Yes, that looks good.

Bang, bang!

The bedroom door, which had been shut tight like a mausoleum since Harry’s death, was now wide open. Men carrying trunks and crates moved back and forth through the threshold. This room was now preparing to welcome a new phantom.

It was Ethan who had demanded Harry’s bedroom.