To My First Love, With Regret - 96

Eve forced the answer through her gritted teeth.

—Yes.

—Ha, how is your body ‘safe’ every single day? Do you have a padlock on your womb or something?

If she weren’t the subject of the conversation, Eve might have joined him in his mockery. A woman who was safe every single day? It was, of course, an absurdity.

She intended to kindly teach him later how this logic-defying sophistry actually worked—on the day it was proven that what he spilled inside her every night hadn’t been a waste of effort.

—Uugh….

The moment he climaxed, his restraint shattered completely. Ethan ensnared her in his arms like a serpent coiling around its prey to crush the life out of it, pouring his seed deep into her belly.

—Haa, haa….

The eruption of pleasure should have long since ended, yet his hips continued to shudder. That relentless movement, trying to shake out every last drop, was indescribably revolting.

Normally, she would have gritted her teeth and endured the presence of Ethan Fairchild pulsing inside her, simply to buy time for her womb to be thoroughly soaked with his seed.

—If you’re done with your business, get lost.

But tonight, the moment the purpose of this tryst was fulfilled, she pushed him away without a shred of lingering attachment.

Surprisingly, Ethan also retreated into the darkness without a word of protest.

—Thank you for tonight as well, Mrs. Kallas. I hope you have a pleasant night with your husband.

True to form, he was a male whose only goal was conception, not Eve herself.

Thud.

The door, which had been briefly opened, clicked shut. The sound of combat boots receded and then vanished, leaving the surroundings violently silent. She felt as though she could even hear the sound of Ethan Fairchild’s seed dripping from between her legs and soaking the sheets.

Eve fled to the bathroom and bolted the door, her legs trembling so violently she nearly collapsed several times.

—Haa… hmpf….

The moment she finally released her stifled breath, a sob threatened to hitch onto the end of it. Clutching her mouth like someone fighting back nausea, she stumbled into the shower.

Sshhh.

She stood motionless beneath the scalding water that poured down like a deluge. The silk slip she hadn’t managed to take off soaked through and clung to her skin. It grew heavier and heavier, mirroring her mood.

Though the searing heat licked at her entire body, her heart remained chilled. The raw scent Ethan Fairchild had left on every inch of her skin as he marked his territory—and the icy coldness of his final words as he departed—refused to be washed away.

—Thank you for tonight as well, Mrs. Kallas.

Until she heard that dry farewell, Eve had been under a terrible delusion.

—Your husband, the one you threw in prison… I guess he was too damn embarrassed to visit you even once?

When Ethan had poured out his resentment earlier, she admitted that while her blood boiled with the injustice of it, a corner of her heart had ached. She had felt that his razor-sharp hatred was merely the recoil of a twisted love.

To still be angry over the fact that she hadn’t come to him was a confession of how desperately he had waited for her. No one confesses a dead love with such vivid intensity.

Was it because she was blinded by such hollow illusions? Tonight, she had tried so hard to frame his rough behavior as evidence of a crude sort of love. The caresses that had moved beyond mechanical insertion for the sake of conception to greedily prey upon her body. And even that blind jealousy he had flared up with, just as he always did.

Eve, I still desire you as a woman, not just what you possess.

All night, it felt as if his entire body was whispering this to her.

In truth, it was just that Eve wanted to believe it. Hadn’t Ethan Fairchild thoroughly enjoyed the sadistic game of desecrating another man’s woman and then left without a backward glance? It was exactly as he had signaled from the moment he stepped into the room. In fact, he had said it repeatedly with his own mouth throughout the act, but Eve simply hadn’t listened.

Mrs. Kallas.

The period at the end of the sentence: You are no longer my love.

That verdict, driven into her heart, was so cold that Eve trembled even under the boiling water, just as she had the moment she was abandoned on a frozen cliff.

His loud display of dominance over his rival hadn’t been a sign of possessiveness toward Eve. It was merely the arrogant struggle of a male refusing to remain a loser.

If so, what was the meaning of that touch that had indulged in her body without a hint of hesitation? Far from being evidence of love, it was the answer to its absence. Because no emotion remained, he could thoroughly degrade Eve into a tool, and because of that, he could extort pleasure from her with such utter indifference.

Ethan doesn’t love me anymore.

—Hngh….

She covered her mouth as the sob finally broke through the dam. But she let the tears stream down, making no move to stop them. This heavy downpour of water would steal them away, and no one would ever know.

—Hnghh….

Perhaps the resentment she had spat out in front of the hospital was simply another name for love. He had loved her once, but after misunderstanding that Eve had ultimately chosen Owen, had he completely erased the lingering attachment that had been gnawing at his pride?

Suddenly, her heart sank. A miserable impulse to cling to the remnants of Ethan’s feelings for her reared its head.

It’s just a misunderstanding. If I clear it up, he’ll love me again.

But then, the cold wound embedded deep in her chest asked back sharply:

Why should he love me again?

Why should I beg to be loved? The one who always abandoned me and walked away was Ethan Fairchild—that man.

Ten years ago, he discarded her in the name of being the enemy’s daughter; tonight, he trampled over her using the excuse of her being another man’s wife.

—Hng-ugh….

As if by some trick, her strength evaporated. The hand that had been stifling her cries dropped limply. As the strength left her legs, Eve slid down the cold tile wall like someone unable to bear the weight of the downpour.

Just like that, the ten years of time Eve had so sturdily built up came crashing down.

The woman collapsed in the water was no longer the cold-blooded Princess of Kentrell. She was merely a nineteen-year-old girl, helplessly reverted to the moment she wept after being miserably abandoned by the man she loved without ever knowing why.

Back then, she had let the biting winds on the cliff carry her tears away; now, she let them flow into the stream spiraling down into the gutter. Nothing had changed. Then, as now, the only person on her side in this world was her own miserably trembling self.

After pouring out her long-festering emotions like pus, all that remained was a dry, hollow laugh.

Why did I want Ethan Fairchild’s love? What is that lowly man to me that I’m acting so pathetic because he doesn’t love me?

Evelyn Sherwood, don’t fall so far as to hang your life on the love of a man like that. You are worth so much more.

She had vowed to show that arrogant man—who dared to use her for his revenge—what she was made of. Yet the moment she was in his arms, she had gone searching for the warmth of an old flame. That wretched weakness was always the problem. Every time she needed to be heartless, she was swayed by the softness of a human heart, and because of it, everything she owned—even her child—had been plundered from her.

Never again. I won’t let anything be taken again.

Eve pushed against the wall, forcing her staggering body upright.

Ethan Fairchild, I’m going to discard you completely, too.

She roughly swept back her water-soaked hair that obscured her vision. The woman reflected in the mirror outside the booth was a mess, but her eyes were burning with a fierce light.

I’m not alone anymore. I have Tony, and….

Her wet hand protectively cupped her still-flat lower stomach.

Soon, we’ll be three.

And we will strip away every trap and fly far, far away from this wretched, maggot-infested cage.

After making a resolute vow to herself in the mirror, Eve turned off the shower and stepped out of the bathroom. Behind her, the lingering attachments she had washed away were swept down the drain and vanished.

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—Ugh….

A splitting headache hammered at Owen’s temples. It was undoubtedly because of the sleeping pills the Queen had given him. The moment that thought crossed his mind, his heart began to pound.

I want to see the traces of how the Queen used me last night.

As soon as Owen managed to lift his heavy eyelids, the first thing he did was look down at his body. To his disappointment, he was still clothed, but he could vaguely feel that his trousers beneath the blanket had been unfastened.

My God… it wasn’t a dream.

He needed to see with his own eyes what kind of grace the Queen had bestowed upon his member. Just as he shifted to lift the covers, the sheets rustled beside him. Owen froze.

…Could she be beside me?

He turned his head, reaching out with a trembling hand to feel the space next to him, but unfortunately, it was empty. Though the warmth had faded, the crumpled pillow and the disastrously disheveled sheets told the story of last night’s madness. Atop those wretched traces, the stains of dried fluids were vivid.