After He Killed My Kin, I Rejected Him

Chapter 5

The force of the slap snapped Solenne's head to the side. A bright red handprint bloomed instantly on her cheek, throbbing with a searing, burning pain.

Her ears rang so loud she could barely hear, but Brando's ice-cold words cut straight through the noise, burrowing into her chest like shards of frozen glass. Every single syllable felt like a knife twisted right into her heart.

"If Olivia hadn't been sharp enough to notice something off, I never would've guessed you had the gall to sneak around and meet another man in my private castle!"

Eyes cold enough to turn blood to ice, every word he spat sliced through Solenne's heart like a razor blade, leaving her gutted, bleeding internally, and drowning in unbearable, breath-stealing agony.

Evren's face went deathly pale in an instant. He rushed forward to argue, his voice tight with urgency. "Hold your tongue, Your Grace! The Duchess and I have done nothing improper! I came late at night only because the Duchess has been gravely ill. I was here to treat her, nothing more!"

"Gravely ill?" Brando cut him a frigid, dismissive glance, his cold disdain and blatant suspicion written all over his face. "What kind of illness requires you two to be alone behind closed doors in the middle of the night to treat it?"

Evren opened his mouth to argue further, but Solenne cut him off before he could speak.

"Dr. Fenwick, this is a private matter between my husband and me. It has nothing to do with you. Please leave now."

Evren pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at Solenne, who was visibly wronged but forcing herself to hold it together.

In the end, he could only heft his medical kit onto his back and turn to leave, shoulders heavy with helplessness.

Brando curled his lip into a cold, mocking sneer. "How protective of him you are. But do you really think he's getting out of here today?"

Before his words even landed, the door slammed open, and the sharp, unyielding voice of a castle guard boomed from outside. "Seize him!"

In the blink of an eye, two guards had grabbed Evren, wrenched his arms behind his back, and slammed him hard to his knees. He was pinned so tightly he couldn't move even a finger.

Solenne jolted violently. She could see the undisguised murderous intent in Brando's eyes clear as day, and her voice shook uncontrollably. "Let him go! I swear on my life, I've never done anything to cheat on you!"

Brando stepped forward, looking down at her, his voice sharp enough to slice through ice. "Your sad little life? You think it's even worth swearing on to me?"

It felt like someone had just rammed a jagged knife straight through her heart. All the blood in her body rushed out through the gaping wound, leaving every last inch of her frozen and stiff in an instant.

Her face drained of all color, pale as a sheet, and she was teetering on the edge of total despair.

Right then, Jasmine, her maid, dropped to her knees with a heavy thump-thud, tears streaming down her face as she begged desperately.

"Your Grace! The Duchess is innocent! She has always strictly abided by noble etiquette, never stepping out of line once! The chastity mark, the symbol of a young noblewoman's purity, is still on her body to this day!"

Solenne's fraying, scattered consciousness snapped back into focus all at once, but Jasmine's words sent a wave of overwhelming shame crashing over her, leaving her icy cold from head to toe.

Her eyes burned and stung, turning red in an instant. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a broken sob, no words at all.

When Brando saw her staying silent, his rage boiled over even hotter. He snatched her wrist in a vicious, bone-crushing grip, his tone dark and menacing.

"I only believe what I've seen with my own two eyes!" He moved roughly, yanking her forcefully toward the inner bedroom.

She could feel the roiling, violent fury rolling off him in waves, and a surge of ice-cold fear shot through her.

She struggled on instinct, crying out, "What are you doing?!"

Brando flicked a cold, contemptuous glance at Evren, who was still pinned down at the doorway, his voice so frosty it didn't hold a single spark of warmth. "I'm going to check for myself. I'm going to find out for myself if you're actually innocent."

Solenne realized what he was planning to do in an instant, and sheer panic flooded her.

She thrashed with all her might, fighting him off as hard as she could.

But she'd been sick for so long that her body was weak as a kitten, she didn't stand a chance against the far stronger, sturdier Brando.

She was thrown roughly onto the soft velvet bed, and before she could even scramble back up, her dress was ripped open with a sharp tear.

The bright, blood-red chastity mark on the inside of her arm, the symbol of her spotless virtue, was laid bare for him to see, fully exposed to the open air.

When Brando's gaze locked onto that vivid red mark, a storm of fury and twisted obsession flared to life in his eyes. The next second, he leaned down and pressed his full weight against her hard.

Searing, sharp pain exploded through her whole body. Solenne couldn't hold back a small, choked cry, but she immediately bit down so hard on her lip she tasted blood, forcing back her tears and pain.

Dark hair tangled, skin pressed to skin, Solenne felt like a tiny, helpless boat tossed about in a raging storm. She could do nothing but take it, shattered and crushed bit by bit, until she was completely broken...

*****

After that day, Solenne drifted in and out of consciousness for days, spiking recurring high fevers. She was so weak she didn't even have the strength to climb out of bed.

Naturally, she couldn't make it back to the Rivington family's noble castle for her grandfather's seventieth birthday banquet.

Meanwhile, at the Rivington family's noble castle, the long table in the main hall was piled high with exquisitely made banquet treats, and the lights blazed bright, but barely anyone was there. The whole room felt cold and empty, heavy with silence.

Lord Rivington stared out the window at the darkening sky, his voice low and rough, thick with dejection. "It's getting too late. Don't wait for her. Let's eat first."

Marcella looked at her grandfather's crestfallen face, and hurried to soothe him in a soft, gentle voice. "Don't be upset, Grandfather. The Duke's castle is swamped with work these days. I'm sure Solenne just has too much on her plate and can't get away to come back."

Lord Rivington tugged at the corner of his mouth in a helpless half-smile, exhaustion and guilt swimming deep in his eyes.

"Don't bother lying to an old fool like me. I know full well how hard it is for the two of you to get by in high society, how much slander and hardship you've had to swallow. It's all my fault. I'm old, weak, and completely useless, can't even keep my own granddaughters safe.

"This is all on me. If your parents were watching from the afterlife, they'd probably hate my guts for being such a lousy head of the family." His voice was heavy with grief, worn thin by age, and it twisted the heart just to listen.

Marcella stared at her grandfather's head of thinning, gray-white hair, and the forced smile she'd been clinging to finally shattered.

She turned her face away quickly, her eyes stinging and burning red before she could stop the tears from welling up.

Lord Rivington didn't say anything else. He just gazed off into the distance, in the direction of the Duke's castle, and a faint sheen of tears glistened in his clouded, aging eyes.

The next morning, Solenne was finally roused from her fever-induced coma.

The second Jasmine saw her eyes flutter open, she quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks and carefully helped her sit up.

"Madam, it's all my fault. I'm so useless, I failed you!"

Solenne's voice was rough and hoarse, barely above a whisper when she spoke, "It's not your fault. How long was I out?"

"More than five days already."

Solenne's eyes went wide. A cold, sharp jolt of panic shot straight through her chest, and she threw back the velvet covers to scramble out of bed immediately.

"I missed Grandpa's birthday banquet. He must be worried sick. Jasmine, help me get dressed and do my hair. I have to go back to the Rivington estate right now."

Just then, a jarringly gentle voice drifted over from the doorway, each word scraping like nails on a chalkboard.

"The Duke's wife really should go back soon. Otherwise, you might not get to see Lord Rivington one last time."

"What did you say?!" Solenne's breath caught in her throat.

She snapped her head up to stare at Olivia in the doorway, her voice cracking so badly it was almost unrecognizable, distorted by overwhelming panic.

Olivia sauntered into the room, a soft, innocent-looking smile playing on her lips, but every word she spoke was laced with a vicious, intentional sting.

"I'm saying, old Mr. Rivington is kneeling right outside the castle gates, begging the Duke to cut you some slack and let you end the marriage contract. He's been out there this whole time, waiting around desperately."