To My First Love, With Regret - 58

Now, there was truly nothing left to rely on but extreme measures.

—Tony, that man is the one who killed your brother and your father. He might even kill you.

She feigned terror, but in truth, Eve wasn’t afraid at all. After all, did Ethan even have a reason to kill Tony?

The people Ethan had killed thus far were only the perpetrators who had played a part in his suffering. But Tony was a child born after all those tragedies had ended.

Because he hated her—the daughter of his enemy—she had worried at first that he might hate Tony as well simply for being the son of his enemy.

But who would give a tour of a military base and even let a hated child ride in a plane? Ethan held no grudge against Tony. If anything, he seemed to find the way the boy trailed after him rather endearing.

So, there was no need to worry about him killing Tony.

—But the Major likes me.

The problem was that Tony felt exactly the same way as Eve, and therefore, he wasn’t frightened in the least by her attempts to scare him.

—I didn’t do anything to deserve dying.

The boy was misinterpreting Ethan Fairchild as some sort of righteous judge. He bragged about the Major liking him as if it were proof that he was a good boy.

—You said so too, Eve. That Harry died because he did things to deserve it.

—When did I ever say that?

She couldn’t deny that while the phrasing was different, the meaning was the same. Eve retreated to her secondary tactic.

—Tony, do you really want to play with your sister’s ex-husband? You saw for yourself how rudely he treats me.

—He fought with you, not with me.

—My god…. What is wrong with you….

—Eve, why did you break up with the Major? He’s much better than the Doctor.

—Anthony Sherwood. I believe I taught you to watch your words?

Tony insulted Owen to his face and ignored Eve’s warning.

—I think I see why you fell for him, Eve.

No, you don’t. The man I fell for was different from the man he is now.

She fell silent, swallowing back words that surged up like a throatful of blood. Owen, who had been watching the two while gathering his lesson materials to leave, sensed the volatile atmosphere and cut in like a dog that had been called.

—Your Grace, the man a Lady needs is not a wolf running wild, but a loyal hound.

Tony clenched his teeth so hard he felt his lunch might come back up. This was the man who, on his wedding day, had knelt like a dog not before his wife, but before his mother-in-law, burying his head in the folds of her skirt.

When Tony thought Eve loved the traitor without knowing the truth, he had hesitated to speak for fear she’d be hurt; after learning it wasn’t love, he hadn’t seen the need to speak since they would eventually part anyway. To be honest, what he had seen that day was so horrific he didn’t even want to recall it, let alone speak it aloud.

And yet, here he was, insisting he was loyal to his sister. He wasn’t a «loyal hound» he was a slinky little rat. This was more than Tony could stand.

—Your Grace, I am now Lady Evelyn’s husband. Could you please refrain from such remarks? Siding with that man is a great insult to your sister as well.

He had to let his sister know this man’s cunning, true nature. Tony opened his tightly shut mouth.

—You’re the one insulting Eve! You’re…!

—Anthony Sherwood, do you want to be confined to this house until the end of the week?

Sensing the boy was about to spit out more insolent words to an adult, Eve cut him off with a sharp warning. The child glared at Eve with indignation, and at the same time, tears began to well in his eyes.

—What on earth are you so aggrieved about that you’re crying?

—Why do you only scold me, Eve? Why do you only hate me! I’m just trying to protect you!

The child, who had been on Ethan Fairchild’s side the entire time, claiming he was trying to protect her it was a nonsensical sophistry.

—If you truly care for me, then please, just don’t do the things I tell you not to do.

Whether it be those wicked words, or that man. Just please.

Tony did not promise to do so. He only stared at Eve, wiped his tears with his sleeve, and bolted out of the room.

—I’m not playing with a tyrant! Go play dice with that dog all you want!

SLAM!

The sound of the door closing roughly resembled the explosion one might hear in the laboratory of a clumsy scientist whose experiment had failed.

Yes, I failed. Because I’m clumsy.

She had barely interacted with the boy during his first five years before suddenly claiming the role of his guardian; it was only natural for Tony to feel such resentment.

Until then, Eve had been little more than a stranger sharing a roof with Tony. The boy was always flanked by Chantal or the nannies she had hired; the moment he reached an age where he could explore the house on his own, Chantal would snatch him away the second he showed any curiosity toward Eve, as if fearing he might be stolen.

Now that he was old enough that Chantal’s control no longer reached him, Eve finally had a chance to get close but because she, too, was trying to control him, he likely felt only a desperate urge to escape.

And here I am, doing my absolute best only for your sake.

Eve slumped against the open windowsill.

Parenting is too difficult. It seems Sherwoods were simply not born with the temperament for parenthood.

As she pulled out a cigarette and placed it between her lips, Owen—as if he had been waiting for this exact moment—produced a lighter and sparked a flame for her. Under the guise of serving her, he had the audacity to look her directly in the eye.

It was a gaze that could have belonged to a loyal dog looking at its master. But were a dog’s pure eyes ever that cloying and filthy? Facing him was an ordeal, yet a master never averts their eyes first.

—How dare you look at me directly? Keep your eyes on the floor.

—I have committed a mortal sin, My Queen.

The madman immediately lowered his head, his breathing becoming heavy and ragged. The sight of his arousal was so revolting she was about to order him to get out, but then Owen opened the briefcase he was carrying.

—I would be beyond honored if this could earn your forgiveness and lift your spirits, My Lady.

What he pulled from the bag was a thick manila envelope. Even as she had issued the command, she had been half-doubting; had he really brought the records of the Kentrell family assets inherited from Robert Callas?

Eve set her half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and, without a moment’s delay, pulled out the spoils to verify them. Her hands began to tremble.

He really brought them. To think I could secure all this with a mere handful of words. To think it could be this easy.

With a hollow laugh playing on her lips, Eve flipped through the pages. As she rapidly scanned the deposit and withdrawal records and the balances of the bank accounts opened in Owen Callas’s name, the smile slowly bled from her face.

—You’ve siphoned off quite a lot. Did you enjoy squandering your master’s money?

She had meant it as a sarcastic barb, but Owen dropped to his knees like a prisoner receiving a death sentence.

—It is a misunderstanding, My Lady. I have not touched a single cent. I am simply returning exactly what my father took.

—We shall see about that.

Eve’s hands began to turn the pages of the ledger detailing the assets Robert Callas had embezzled under borrowed names.

—You haven’t transferred these to your name yet?

—I have never had much interest in material wealth….

—Ha. More like you didn’t know how to embezzle someone else’s property.

Had Robert Callas believed he would live another twenty years, spending someone else’s fortune? To think he tied up astronomical sums under aliases and never even taught his son how to claim them as his own.

—It’s a good thing you didn’t clumsily mess with them.

Eve could simply leave it to a professional to reclaim it all.

—Do you feel a bit better now?

Owen craved an answer like a dog seeking praise. Eve tapped the thick stack of papers against the insolent bastard’s head.

—You give me the records of the theft, not the stolen money itself, and you expect praise? How presumptuous.

At those words, the dog prostrated himself flat against the floor. He stared at the tips of Eve’s shoes with eyes full of excitement, as if begging to be stepped on. He looked like a man who had planned for and awaited this very moment.

A mere dog dares to try and train its master? Not a chance.

Without laying a single finger on him, Eve poured her cold fury into a command.

—The money in those accounts transfer all of it to me.

She hoped that, once again, things would resolve with unbelievable ease. However, instead of obeying, the man took off his glasses. This time, he was hoping for a slap. It was blatant disobedience.

—…You dare defy your master’s orders?

—I wish to obey. But I fear that once I return the money, you will discard me, My Lady.

A sound that was somewhere between a hollow laugh and a sigh escaped Eve’s clenched teeth.

—So you’re playing mind games now. Trying to dance over my head. I see, your «perfect obedience» was nothing more than a deception.

Eve was well aware that what he wanted wasn’t true submission, but a vulgar haggle. The problem was that she was not accustomed to this kind of bargaining.

—I should stop this little play-act; it doesn’t suit me.

Holding the evidence of embezzlement and fraud, she stood up to leave, but Owen crawled toward her like a beast and tried to grab her ankle. In that split second, the heel of her shoe ground into the back of his hand.