Chapter 7
678words
He stared fixedly at the screen, his pupils suddenly contracting, his chest heaving violently. The tear stains remaining on his face were instantly covered by ferocious rage.
"I didn't!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and broken. "Eve! Believe me! I never did anything with her! Not once! In my entire life, I've only touched one woman - you!"
His defense was desperate and pale.
Looking at his neck reddening with agitation, I felt no stirring in my heart, only a cold pity.
"Is that so?" I put away my phone, my tone flat. "Do you think that simply not having 'done' anything allows you to have a clear conscience?"
"Would a 'responsible' brother allow his adult sister to wear that kind of nightgown and lie on his and his wife's marital bed? Would he embrace her with that kind of... gesture as if wanting to meld her into his bones and blood?"
My gaze carried a hint of scrutinizing amusement.
"Vincent, you keep claiming your relationship is pure. But the indulgence you give her has long exceeded the boundaries of normal siblings." I paused, looking at his stiffening expression, a faint mocking smile playing on my lips. "Sometimes, I even wonder..."
I deliberately dragged out my tone.
"Your dear sister, so obsessed with you, is she truly fond of this kind of... thrill that disregards human ethics..."
I stepped forward, moving closer to him, my voice lowered to the extreme, each word like a poisoned needle piercing his eardrum:
"...or could it be that she actually... has no blood relation to you at all?"
This sentence, like a thunderbolt, struck him on the top of his head.
He stepped back abruptly, bumping into the railing behind him with a dull thud. The color drained from his face instantly, even his lips lost their color. In those gray eyes was extreme shock, realization, and a trace of deeply buried doubt that he forcibly suppressed.
His mouth hung open, making hoarse sounds from his throat, unable to utter a single word.
His appearance explained everything.
Perhaps he had suspected it subconsciously all along, but never dared to admit it. Now that I had exposed it bluntly, that fig leaf instantly turned to dust.
As I watched the miserable collapse of his worldview, the last bit of unease in my heart completely disappeared.
Enough.
This farce needed to end.
I tidied my wind-tousled hair and turned around.
"Eve!"
Vincent suddenly called out to stop me.
His voice remained hoarse, but it had changed. It became cold and resolute. No longer pleading, only ruthless determination to fight to the bitter end.
I stopped walking, without looking back.
"Wait for me." He stood behind me, his voice not loud, yet it landed like a vow in the cold air. "Give me some time."
The river wind blew the messy hair from his forehead, revealing eyes filled with nothing but endless darkness and the desire for destruction.
"I will take her..." he paused, each word seemed to be ground out between his teeth, carrying the scent of blood, "...take Victoria, and all the dirty schemes behind her, along with all my past stupidity..."
"...and settle the score completely."
After speaking, he didn't wait for my response.
He turned abruptly, the hem of his black coat cutting a sharp arc. He strode away, his figure upright, yet carrying a desperate, isolated killing intent.
Like a thoroughly enraged lion king, returning to tear apart all the traitors in his territory.
I knew he was not asking for my consent, nor was he making a promise.
He was making a declaration.
Declaring a devastating war against Victoria, and against his own absurd life.
I stood in place, watching his figure disappear around the street corner.
The river wind remained cold.
Reckoning?
Of course there must be a reckoning.
However, no matter how thoroughly he settles scores...
It can never bring me back.
The fire he ignited has finally burned him as well.
And I need only watch.
