To My First Love, With Regret - 97

My God, my God—I actually sowed my seed inside the Queen’s womb.

Owen didn’t have a single memory of the night being that ecstatic, but the mere sight of the evidence made him shudder with thrill. He staggered to his feet. He was about to bury his face back into the stains of dried semen and vaginal fluids, trying to inhale the moment he became one with the Queen deep into his mind, when—

—Are you awake?

At the cold voice, Owen snapped his head up. The Queen was standing in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Already fully dressed, she was leaning against the window frame, sipping from a coffee cup. Even her fatigued appearance looked like the lingering traces of a night of intense passion in Owen’s eyes.

Facing Lady Evelyn’s frigid gaze, memories of the previous night—which had been buried under the haze of the drugs—suddenly surfaced.

The bed that had screamed so loudly, his body swaying to that same rhythm. And the pressure… the pressure of a hand constricting his windpipe.

As soon as he recalled the scene he had caught a glimpse of through his agony, Owen froze.

Lady Evelyn’s face, flushed with pleasure while wearing nothing but a pale pink slip.

My God, the Queen really did climb on top of me. Without stopping her hips for a single second, she had even choked the life out of him, extracting the ultimate pleasure from this body of his.

—Ah….

Owen started to let out an overwhelmed gasp but stopped to cradle his aching neck. Even this pain was sweet. He was dying to stand in front of a mirror right this second. Surely, the seal of ownership carved by the Queen’s own noble hands would be vividly imprinted there.

To think she was hiding such sadistic tastes. Evelyn Sherwood is indeed the perfect Queen.

I only hope that I, too, was a perfect slave for you. Overcome with emotion, Owen crawled across the floor and prostrated himself at the Queen’s feet.

—Were you… satisfied?

When he asked, steadying his cracking voice, Lady Evelyn merely nodded indifferently, her gaze fixed out the window.

—Thank you. Please, seek me out again. For the sake of your satisfaction, I would do any….

—If you want my satisfaction, just pray that my belly swells before the year is out.

—It will. It certainly will.

As the man bowed his head, swearing once again to devote himself to her and the child, Eve wore a twisted smile directed at the crown of his head.

He’s completely fooled. But Evelyn Sherwood’s grand deception had only just raised its curtain.

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Eve left the North as soon as morning broke, but it was already after sunset by the time she set foot back on her home soil at the southern tip of the country.

She had crammed a long journey—crossing the nation twice—into a mere two days. Fatigue naturally weighed down her physical body, but the exhaustion of her worn-out heart was far more extreme.

Yet, Eve’s long journey was not over.

It was when she entered White Cliff Hall, dragging her exhausted body behind her.

—Eve!

Tony came running down as if tumbling down the stairs and threw himself into her arms. Eve felt dazed, yet a corner of her heart grew warm.

I thought the only person you welcomed this fervently was Ethan Fairchild. Did you miss me too? It felt as though the fatigue accumulated in her body and mind from two days of overexertion melted away just from the child’s warmth. The moment a bright smile was about to spread across Eve’s lips, the child in her arms asked with sparkling eyes:

—Was Ethan at the battlefield too?

The smile receded from Eve’s face like a low tide.

Of course. It wasn’t me you were waiting for, but news of that man. She swallowed her bitterness and answered honestly.

—Yes.

There was no point in lying; that man would brag about it anyway.

—Che, I should’ve gone too….

Watching the child suddenly grow sullen made her stomach churn.

‘My child, that man came to kill you.’ Because she couldn’t bring herself to make a confession that would ruin this innocent child’s heart, the truth clawed at her insides until they felt raw. Instead, Eve stroked Tony’s soft blonde hair and uttered words that were a comfort to the child, but a terrifying warning to herself.

—Ethan will be back soon.

Because he hasn’t yet achieved his goal of usurping Kentrell through my womb. Tony, you’ll probably run to him like an innocent puppy and embrace him, thinking that invader returned to this mansion for your sake.

The mere thought of having to watch that play out felt like her heart was being scorched to ash. To erase the man from Tony’s mind—and perhaps her own—Eve held out the box she had bought at the train station.

—It’s a gift.

—Whoa! It’s the Stormbreaker!

The dark clouds vanished from Tony’s face in an instant, his eyes sparkling like the sun. Eve still didn’t know the first thing about aircraft models, but her simple intuition that he didn’t have one with this name in his collection had proven correct. Tony clutched the box to his chest and tugged at Eve’s sleeve, pleading.

—Let’s build it together right now!

Tony misunderstood the reason for Eve’s hesitant silence.

—It’s super easy. I’ll show you how!

—Ah… I’m so sorry, Tony. I have a phone call I need to make right away.

—Will it take a long time?

—I’m not sure. I’ll have to see once I get on the line.

—That’s okay. The night is long! I’ll wait in my room and read the manual.

Eve couldn’t guarantee how late she would be, but she nodded. She didn’t want to disappoint her expectant son, but more than that, she didn’t want to throw away a rare moment of closeness with him.

—Don’t start without me. You have to wait.

—Of course! But you have to come as soon as you’re done!

—I will.

Leaving the excited child behind, she walked toward her office. Behind her, she heard the sound of the box being torn open.

The child was waiting to assemble a toy, but what Eve was about to assemble tonight was Ethan Fairchild’s ruin. Behind the firmly closed door, she picked up the receiver for the call scheduled for tonight.

• This is Frank Shepherd.

The moment the long-distance operator’s voice faded, the heavy voice of a middle-aged man flowed through the receiver. The response was immediate, as if he had been sitting with his hand on the phone, waiting for this exact moment.

Eve took a steadying breath. It was time to confirm she was the caller he was expecting.

—This is the Dowager Duchess of Kentrell.

She pitched her voice higher and let her tongue roll excessively, mimicking Chantal’s shallow, pretentious affectation to guard against any chance of her true identity being leaked.

• I believe this is the first time I’ve spoken with you directly, Your Grace. I appreciate you reaching out, but might I ask what this is regarding?

The man on the other end was clearly puzzled as to why a woman he had no connection with was seeking him out, but he didn’t seem to doubt for a second that she was who she claimed to be.

After all, it had been over ten years since Eve and this man had faced off in a chilling war of words. Even then, they had only met once.

The day Ethan was arrested, at the Cliffhaven Police Station.

Back then, Frank Shepherd had been the Chief Inspector of the Cliffhaven precinct. Now, he was a third-rate private investigator. He was the very man who had spearheaded the investigation into the murder of Baron Langdon and fingered Ethan as the culprit.

But a few years later, fate had taken a cruel turn. Evidence surfaced linking Shepherd to a crime—the embezzlement and trafficking of narcotics seized as evidence. He didn’t just lose his badge in disgrace; he ended up in handcuffs, just like the men he had spent his life arresting.

To this day, Shepherd pleaded his innocence, claiming he had been framed in a brutal act of retaliation by Ethan Fairchild, who had ascended to become the king of the underworld.

The world laughed at him as a shameless criminal, but Eve alone believed his claim. Because nowhere in her father’s ledgers of bribes did the name ‘Frank Shepherd’ appear.

He wasn’t a corrupt cop who framed an innocent boy for money. He was a true investigator who had hunted the real culprit with animalistic instinct.

He had simply been bitten in the throat by the predator that escaped his net.

But a truth that no one believes is nothing more than a hollow echo. Forced to trade his uniform for a prison jumpsuit, he fled his hometown upon his release. Now, he was decaying into an alcoholic in a PI office that barely saw a single fly.

It was inevitable that Frank Shepherd would be caught on Eve’s radar as she scouted for allies ahead of her war with the King of the Underworld.

Is it not said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend?

—I will pay whatever fee you require. I want only one thing.

And so, Eve made her formal request to Investigator Shepherd.