To My First Love, With Regret - 61

To put it another way, the money Eve claimed as her own was already Ethan’s in all but name. After all, it would eventually become Fairchild money on the day Kentrell finally became Fairchild.

Ethan slowly exhaled a long drag of cigarette smoke into the woman’s face. The thick haze could not obscure the anger burning clearly in her eyes.

Yes, those eyes.

He had imagined this for so long—her coming to him of her own accord, those eyes filled with raw, budding contempt and fury. It had taken so long that he’d begun to wonder if she’d turned into a pathetic coward, but it turned out his retribution had simply taken three years to finally reach her.

—I waited three years just for you to realize. What took you so long?

As soon as he asked, he realized the answer himself and let out a hollow laugh.

—So, Lady Evelyn married a lowly underling just to reclaim her embezzled fortune.

His instinct hadn’t failed him. She didn’t love Owen Kallas. He had confirmed once again that to Evelyn Sherwood, marriage was nothing more than a gamble for the sake of utility.

—Is it time to kill that bastard now, then? Are you here to commission a hit?

That would be the only way for the new husband’s entire estate to fall into Eve’s lap. The wealth recovered that way wouldn’t even belong to the Kentrell family; it would become Evelyn Sherwood’s personal property.

—You have a brilliant mind, Lady Evelyn. To think you’d get your hands on far more money this way than the late Duke ever promised you in his will.

Eve didn’t let herself be swept away by the shallow provocation that she was just another leech draining the family coffers.

—Is that so? The portion you siphoned off is much larger, so I’m still not quite satisfied.

—Ah, wait. Did I just suggest that if you marry me and kill me, you can have all that money?

Ethan found something in that thought so hilarious that he bent double, erupting into a fit of laughter.

—There’s no need to do that meaningless thing a second time, is there?

But at Eve’s next words, that breathless laughter cut off as abruptly as if his life had been snuffed out.

—Didn’t you insist? That we haven’t divorced yet. Ethan, this is a piece of advice for a man who wags his tongue so recklessly….

Eve leaned down and whispered kindly into his ear.

—Be careful not to get murdered in my house.

Ethan was the only one who heard the warning, yet the air in the room froze instantly. The aura of the man, who rose silently to face her, had transformed. His face, stripped of its smile, exuded the chilling energy of a predator.

—I’ll give it back. That money.

—The condition?

Eve knew instinctively. This sweet offer would surely come with a revolting price.

Her intuition was correct. He pointed between his legs with the hand holding his cigarette.

—Crawl through here.

He was demanding that Eve pay the price for the sins Harry deserved to answer for. Did it mean that the past—the time when Eve alone had stood by his side when the whole world turned against him—meant nothing now?

Yes, you abandoned me in the first place because you held my devotion in such low regard. You were always such a worthless man.

To place the only hand that had ever shielded him on the same scale as the hand of the enemy who had cast him into the abyss—it was a blatant betrayal, a denial of Eve’s very existence. The insult had already begun with that alone.

And yet you act as if I were the one who betrayed you first.

Her smoldering eyes screamed that he was the traitor. Eve stepped forward, her stride filled with rage, her fist clenched as if she were about to strike his cheek.

She’s right-handed.

Ethan moved his cigarette to his other hand, intending to catch her flying wrist, but his calculations missed the mark entirely in the next second.

Eve, keeping her eyes locked on his, slowly and gracefully dropped to one knee. Like a noble Lady, her back remained straight and her chin was held high with pride; it was less a plea to a thief and more an act of etiquette offered to a Queen.

Was this the only form of submission the high-born Lady knew? Though she looked from below to above, her gaze did not yield in the slightest, signaling that this was an intentional mockery. Her calm eyes asked a silent question:

Is this truly what you want?

This was not a surrender; it was a declaration of war. It was a test, not a submission. Ethan, despite clearly reigning over her, felt the sense of crisis of one being conquered rather than the conqueror, though he refused to admit it.

Yes, this is what I want. This is what I’m supposed to want.

The woman observing him closely lowered her head submissively, as if she had received her answer. However, it wasn’t Evelyn Sherwood’s pride that broke, but Ethan Fairchild’s reason. The emotions he had tried so hard to deny surged violently to the surface.

Don’t you dare ruin the woman I loved.

He could withstand her arrogant resistance, but he was powerless against this pure submission. Ethan lost the fight in a hollow defeat.

Pretending to be the winner while acting the part of the loser, he could no longer bear the sight of the woman prostrating herself to crawl between his legs. He yanked Eve up roughly. Without even giving the staggering woman time to steady herself, he shoved her out the door.

SLAM!

In the gap of the closing door, Eve’s face looked as though she couldn’t understand him. But it was a look of pure curiosity; she remained unruffled. The one who was truly shaken to the point of madness was Ethan.

—Crazy woman. Out of all the Sherwoods, she’s the craziest!

He snatched a billiard cue from a subordinate’s hand and slammed it down. The wood snapped in half with a sharp crack, the pieces flying across the room. Even the gang members, who had seen everything except hell itself, froze and held their breath at the young leader’s fury.

In the midst of it all, Mikey thought to himself:

‘It’s okay if he pushes her into the mire, but absolutely not okay if she steps into it herself? Now that’s love.’

But he hadn’t the slightest intention of saying that out loud. If he did, that broken billiard cue would likely end up shoved down his throat.

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Under the burning sun, everything was vivid, yet it lacked any sense of reality.

It was July at Cliffhaven Beach. Normally, this resort would be so crowded with vacationers that there wouldn’t be a spare inch to step on, but today it was eerily silent. The beach cafe where Eve sat was empty—not even a seagull visited—and on the pebble shore, only children ran about without a single adult in sight.

The adults, surely, were there. Eve’s gaze traveled past the harbor where warships were moored, up the white cliffs, toward the anti-aircraft gun positions in front of the castle.

At whom were those barrels, thrust toward the sky, actually aimed? The enemy was invading from behind.

Those massive weapons did nothing but repeat drills; they had never once spat fire at an enemy plane. Yet, they surely weren’t mere ornaments placed there to rust in the salty sea breeze. This disjointed landscape, which defied logical explanation, was an ill omen in itself.

Charrr. The sound of pebbles being swept away by the waves poured down like the gunshots of a war that hadn’t yet begun. She tried to tell herself it was merely the aftershocks of a distant battlefield reaching this far, but she knew all too well how naive a hope that was.

The steel hulks weren’t the only ones constantly on edge against an invisible enemy. The aftermath of the fight a few days ago still swirled in Eve’s head.

Why on earth was he so angry? Because I didn’t prostrate myself as flat as he wanted?

She had no idea what he wanted anymore. In fact, she no longer cared about his thoughts. She only wondered how she could drive him away.

After facing that trashed game room, Eve had abandoned her resolve to wait until the man had settled his grudge and left on his own. Her top priority now was not repaying a moral debt to Ethan Fairchild, but the child.

—It would have been nice if Ethan came too.

Tony—who had somehow reached the point of calling him by his first name—grumbled as he scraped the bottom of his ice cream float with a straw.

She had brought him out specifically to distance him from that thug, but the child ended up looking for him anyway. It felt as though he were saying his time with her was boring, and Eve felt a surge of absurd competitiveness.

I know how to have fun, too.

She took the child onto the pebble beach. Forgetting that the waves were soaking his ankles, Tony rummaged through the water for a long time, claiming he was looking for the ‘most perfect pebble.’ Then, he looked up at Eve with a face full of mischief and shouted.

—Eve! Look at this!

—What is it?

The moment she leaned her head toward the water’s surface, the hand in the water jerked upward. He was going to splash her face. But the hand hesitated just before breaking the surface and sank back into the water.

—Oh, um… there was a fish, but it got away.

Tony lied awkwardly. Feeling the truth hidden beneath that clumsy excuse, Eve felt a tightening in her chest.