Conflict of interest

As Ruelle approached her house, anxiety twisted in her stomach at the sight of the open door. Uncertainty gnawed at her. She was not only late, but she had also failed to bring the expected money.

Nervous, she stepped inside and immediately spotted the debt collector lounging on the sofa, his feet propped carelessly on the coffee table. A surge of panic coursed through her, but it quickly gave way to relief when she saw her father.

"Elle is back home!" Caroline exclaimed, relief mingling with a nervous smile.

"Finally!" The debt collector clicked his tongue, and swung his legs off the table, rising as if he owned the space beneath the very roof that sheltered them. "Let's see how much money your measly sweaters brought in now, shall we? Bring the money forward."

Ruelle's fingers tightened around the gunny bag. When she hesitated, Mrs. Belmont furrowed her brow, her gaze shifting to the bag that looked fuller than expected. "Did you not visit the Cliffords?" she asked.

"I did…" Ruelle's voice trembled, fear crawling through her.

"Hm?" The debt collector's eyes raked over her, narrowing as they fell upon the gunny bag. "What is this?" Without waiting for a response, he snatched the bag from her grip and dumped its contents onto the floor.

Mrs. Belmont gasped, her hand clapping instinctively over her mouth as the drenched and dirty sweaters lay exposed. Caroline's mouth fell open, confused and shocked, struggling to comprehend how their efforts had unravelled so swiftly.

"What did you do, Ruelle?" Her father's voice sliced through the air, sharp and unforgiving like a bitter chill.

"I don't care what happened," the debt collector sighed in exasperation, clearly irritated by the familial drama. He turned to his henchmen with a dismissive wave. "Take everything from here and put it in the carriage. Take his daughters, too."

"NO!" Mrs. Belmont screamed, desperation reflecting in her wild eyes as she stepped protectively in front of Caroline.

"You are already planning to take everything valuable! Leave my family alone!" Mr. Belmont shouted in desperation. But the debt collector only laughed—a cold, humourless sound that reverberated through the room.

As the men began rifling through the meagre possessions, Ruelle felt the burden of guilt and responsibility pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her heart thudded wildly as despair washed over her. Just as the men prepared to step out with their meagre valuables, a tall figure blocked their path. His straight blond hair gleamed under the dim light, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"If you are here to collect debt, stand in line and wait your turn until we are done," the debt collector said, clicking his tongue, irritation flickering in his dark eyes.

The stranger's gaze surveyed the worried faces around him before settling on Ruelle, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. For him, everything faded, leaving only the flickering candlelight that danced over her innocence, glimmering with fear but also an undeniable spark in his heart.

Breaking his gaze from her, the stranger stepped inside, his movements fluid and deliberate. "I was wondering what the ruckus was all about." He turned to Mr. Belmont, offering a respectful bow, before turning to the debt collector. "And pray tell, how much does this gentleman owe you?"

"Six and a half silver coins," the debt collector replied, his tone dismissive and haughty. "What are you going to do knowing about it?"

The stranger's hand slipped into his pocket. He produced two gold coins, their surfaces glinting like beacons of hope amidst the despair. "I have only two gold coins, but I am hoping it will be enough for them to buy some time before the rest can be settled."

The debt collector's expression morphed, glints of greed sparking in his eyes as he snatched the coins with a triumphant smile. "Fine. You'd better be prepared for the next payment next week," he growled, turning dismissively to the Belmonts with a wave that silenced their hope.

As the debt collectors finally withdrew, the remaining family members exhaled in unison, the weight of their despair lifting—if only slightly. Ruelle turned her gaze to the stranger.

"Thank you for aiding us. My family and I are ever so grateful for your help today when you didn't have to intervene," Mr. Belmont said, his voice low, infused with gratitude while his pride hurt.

"You don't need to worry about it. It was merely by chance that I happened upon your house," the man replied, a slight smile curling his lips as he regarded Mrs. Belmont. "A person in need should always receive assistance. Isn't that what humanity is all about?"

Mrs. Belmont replied, "What you did for us has saved us all. May I know your name, young man?"

"It is Ezekiel Henley, milady," he said, bowing slightly once more. His stature and demeanour spoke of groundswell dignity, a man who bore the weight of his lineage with grace.

"I am Megan Belmont, and this is my husband, Harold Belmont. These are our daughters—Caroline and Ruelle," Mrs. Belmont introduced her family quickly.

"You were like a prince in shining armour, Mr. Henley!" Caroline blurted out, her innocence unabashed and lacking subtlety.

As Ruelle's gaze met Ezekiel's, she offered him a respectful bow, her voice steady but soft. "Thank you for helping us, Mr. Henley."

Ezekiel's interest increased; intrigue danced in his stormy gaze. "I'm just glad everything is resolved and that you can all breathe easier for now."

"Why don't you take a seat, Mr. Henley?" Mrs. Belmont insisted, as she gestured towards the chairs.

"Perhaps another time, milady." Ezekiel's voice was polite yet firm. "I am on the clock right now and have somewhere to be. But I would like to return another time." His glance met Ruelle's again, a spark of interest lighting up his expression. "I dislike seeing good folks being harassed, and it's only right that I lend my support. Excuse me." With a slight bow, he turned and made his way out the door.

With the debt collector and his men finally gone, Ruelle felt the tension in her shoulders ease, if only slightly. They were safe for at least the next week, all thanks to Ezekiel Henley's generous nature. How fortunate they were that he had come along, she thought.

"Close the door, Ruelle," her father instructed, his voice clipped as if trying to reclaim authority in a time of disturbance.

She nodded quickly, walking to the door and carefully shutting it before securing the lock with a determined click. The moment she turned back, the atmosphere shifted—a storm brewing anew.

SLAP! His hand struck her cheek, warmth blooming into a sharp sting that spread like wildfire across her senses. For a moment, her vision blurred, swept away by the force of his anger.

"How dare you ruin an entire month's efforts?" His words cut deep and sharp. He glared at her, fury radiating from him with an intensity that felt almost unreal—the heat of his rage igniting the tension in the room. "We give you one job, and you manage to ruin it! Do you think the expensive wool was just handed to us without any expense or effort?"

Ruelle's hands trembled at his words, fear constricting her throat. She swallowed hard, struggling to explain as her head hung low, the weight of his disappointment pressing against her bones. "F—Father, the ground at the market was slippery. Due to the time constraint, I was trying to reach the Cliffor—"

"And did everyone in the market slip and fall?" Mrs. Belmont interjected in annoyance. "It's always you, isn't it, Ruelle? Everything just seems to happen to you."

The sting of their words held an unbearable truth, a talon of shame piercing through her. It wasn't as if she had planned to fall, crushing their hopes with the weight of her clumsiness. She had simply sought to help her family.

"Life is hard enough, and you only make it worse!" Mrs. Belmont clicked her tongue in frustration, her gaze shifting away.

Ruelle's heart raced as she attempted to apologise, her voice quaking with the tremors of her anxiety. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean for it to happen. I tried my best to clean them all. I will have them cleaned now"

"That's enough!" her father's voice echoed through the house. "You are nothing but a disappointment. You always have been, and you continue to be, even now." His gaze bore into her. "After all, what kind of child kills their own mother," he spat, the venom of his words shattering her spirit.

Ruelle felt a chill spread through her veins, his accusation striking her like another physical blow. A wave of helplessness washed over her, with tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him in stunned silence. The painful truth hung heavily in the air: her biological mother had passed away right after giving birth to her, and her father had always held her responsible, convinced that she had stolen the life of his first wife.

Mr. Belmont didn't linger in the living room. He stormed off to his bedroom, Mrs. Belmont hot on his heels like his shadow, leaving Ruelle surrounded by the echo of her father's sharp words.

A tear slipped down Ruelle's cheek. She hadn't meant to disappoint her father. Despite his years of disapproval, she still harboured hope that one day, he would embrace her with open arms. Yet time and time again, the bloom of her efforts seemed to wither beneath the weight of his judgement. If only she had been careful, this wouldn't have happened.

"Elle!" Caroline rushed to Ruelle's side, concern lacing her voice. "Are you alright? Don't pay attention to Papa's words. He didn't mean it."

If it had been the first time, perhaps it wouldn't have hurt so much, but this was a pain woven into the fabric of her being, stitched into her since her childhood. Her father's ire had always been directed at her.

Ruelle nodded at her sister's words, a smile struggling to form but slipping away. She looked down, avoiding Caroline's gaze. "I'm okay. Father has been under a lot of stress, and it's my fault for ruining the sweaters."

Caroline wrapped her arms around her, her voice soft and warm. "I was so worried when you didn't return within the hour."

Ruelle placed her hands over Caroline's. "Everything is fine now. We just need to wash the mud stains and sell the sweaters. They'll be as good as new."

As they returned to their shared room, Ruelle began tying her hair into a messy bun when she heard Caroline speak.

"Was there so much mud on the ground? If they had been picked up sooner, maybe they wouldn't have had time to soak in so deeply, don't you think?" Caroline inspected one of the sweaters, which now looked dirtier on the inside than on the outside.

Ruelle stuck a stick into her hair to keep it in place and muttered, "It is all because of him." 

"What do you mean?" her sister inquired. 

Ruelle iterated on what had occurred at the market and ended with, "It's all because of him. All vampires are the same—arrogant and rude." She huffed, her lips twisting into a frown. She then said, "Had he not stopped me, the damage wouldn't have been this bad." 

She couldn't shake the memory of encountering that stranger—the vampire who had loomed over her like a dark shadow. He had made her feel so small and insignificant under his dark red eyes. He looked like he was ready to end her, she thought, a chill running down her spine. 

Vampires rarely ventured into human towns, which made her question the purpose of the vials and the reason for his visit.

"Why am I even thinking about this?" she muttered under her breath, shaking her head to dispel the lingering thought. She hoped not to run into him again.

"Thank God for Mr. Ezekiel! I can't imagine what would have happened if he hadn't walked by," Caroline said, her voice filled with gratitude. "Not to mention, he is handsome."

Ruelle had barely noted the man's appearance, fixated instead on the kindness he had shown. "We must repay him," she replied. "I'll wash these sweaters and find another buyer for them."

Within a week, Ruelle had not only found a buyer for the sweaters, but she had also earned more coins than Mrs. Clifford had initially offered. 

On a sun-drenched afternoon, when the world felt vibrantly alive with possibility, Mr. Henley arrived at their doorstep. Her mother and Caroline had ventured out to procure more wool, leaving Ruelle alone in their home.

"What is this, Miss Belmont?" Mr. Henley asked, a look of mild surprise crossing his handsome features.

"One gold coin and two silver coins, Mr. Henley. It isn't the full amount you paid to the debt collectors on our behalf, but I felt it was only right to return a portion to you now that we are in a position to do so," Ruelle said, holding out the coins.

Mr. Henley's gaze shifted from her hand to her face. "Please hold on to them until you and your family are in a comfortable position. The debt collector might return soon, won't he?" he replied, his tone gentle yet firm. "Perhaps you should consider giving it to them instead. I'm in no hurry to be repaid." 

Ruelle stared at the gentleman before her, hesitating as she lowered her hand for a moment. Gathering her resolve, she pulled out the two silver coins. "My family and I would feel terrible if we couldn't repay you anything at all. Please, Mr. Henley," she implored, a plea woven with gratitude.

The man's expression shifted, a flicker of conflict crossing his features as he regarded her. With a reluctant sigh, he accepted the coins from her hand. "Thank you," he murmured.

In gratitude, Ruelle offered Ezekiel a cup of tea, and as they chatted, she started to understand why he had helped her family the evening before. He told her that he came from a humble background, where his own family had also struggled with debt collectors, just like hers. It was rare to see someone as striking as him show such genuine kindness, and she felt a deep sense of respect for him.

When Mrs. Belmont and Caroline returned home, Ruelle and her sister went into their room to sort the wool, leaving Ezekiel alone with their mother. During their conversation, Ezekiel said, 

"Mrs. Belmont, if I may be so bold, I would like to offer my assistance to you and your family." Mrs. Belmont's brow arched in both intrigue and surprise. He paused before saying, "I would like to ask for your daughter, Ruelle's, hand in marriage."

However, a conflict of interest loomed, as Mrs. Belmont had been eyeing Ezekiel Henley as a prospective match for Caroline, hoping to secure a better future for her daughter.