I am the devil afterall.

Lucinda stared at the smirking man in front of her.

"Admit it Lucinda. The plan worked." Silas held a mischievous grin as he rested his folded fist against the side of his head as his legs were crossed out in front of him.

Lucinda just dully stare at the gentleman that had decided to come very early at the break of dawn and admittedly rubbing it in her face that he was right. That she was right to trust him.

"And how are you so sure everything worked out as well as you believed?"

Lucinda asked, twirling her teaspoon against the ceramic cup edges, watching the peaceful curl of steam rise up, her gaze viewing him from under her lashes.

At her words, his smile only grew more devious.

"I have my ways" he took a long sip from the tea and sported a relaxed smile that almost looked like one of ecstasy on his striking features.

The look she cut him then, made him slowly raise his hand up in surrender. " it would be selfish to take all the glory. It couldn't have happened without my lovely fiancée."

Maybe it was the lingering joy of seeing their dumbfounded faces at the ball or the tiredness of being awake on the early hours of the day after the tedious previous night. But Lucinda didn't have the strength to reply his endearment, she knew it was aimed at getting a reaction from her.

"Luckily your face scared them off too. The sharp planes and lines, not to talk of the glare. It would probably send them running for the hills" his lips quirked up as he ran his fingers over the curve of the glass. Trailing his finger through the thin perspiration coating the ceramic cup in a thin layer.

He chuckled as he looked up at her. But instead of finding her usual unimpressed smirk or her bored glare. She held another look, one he hadn't seen before. It looked familiar but at the same time not.

"Pardon me, but did i say someth-"

"I could say the same for you". She interrupted.

"Killing people was your way of scaring them of" her tone was judging.

"I pled you don't assume things-"

"Why Viscount? Am i wrong. Are all these assumptions?"

"You had swiftly scared your family off too right?" Her tone was mocking . A snare way to familiar. Judging eyes. She looked at him then. The way the others do. Like they knew his reasons. Which they didn't. And neither did she.

A loud clang! Lucinda flinched at the sound.

The grip at which he held his cup made it break in his hand. The slow continuous drip of red liquid run down his fingers. His blood.

He had a twisted smile as he wiped out a rag from his coat pocket to dab at his hand.

His cutting stare like iced poison focused on her.

"You're right Lucinda. I prefer to kill. I am the devil after all."

He stood up. His voice gravelly and scratchy "it was lovely meeting you once again".

Muffled footsteps and the sound of the door creaking shut. As his tall build disappeared behind the door, she just about could feel the silent anger that permeated from him.

Silas hadn't walked far when he encountered Theodore. The child glowing smile dimmed when he notice his stiff expression, more so his bleeding hand wrapped in his rag.

For some reason Theodore didn't draw close to him. Just stood at his spot and stared at him, his brows drawed together in maybe worry or confusion. Silas didn't know. He couldn't read this mother and child. So he did what he always did when he wasn't ready to face a puzzle. He gave a tight reassuring smile to Theodore and walked away.

Theodore turned his gaze to the closed office door of Lucinda and instead of going in to see his mother like he planned. He just stood and watched the door, his furrowed brows still pulled together.

He knew. He could feel it. The concealed look behind the Evil Lord gaze was no doubt what his mother had now. It wasn't his place to draw close. He had seen it in his mama. For the times she didn't know he was watching. For his mama and papa were now fighting their demons.

•••

Lucinda gasped out a breath. Hard to breath. Her hand reached for her throat but fell short to the chest. Bunching the olive fabric in her grasp. She lost her balance and plopped down on the rugged floor. Her other hand reached for her head. Getting entangled in her hand as she tugged hard. Her eyes wide and frantic.

Why him? Why did his words bring back those memories.

•••

"You look just like your mother. Her face undesired by men". Her father had gripped her jaw.

"Are you both a defect. You and your mother had this same eyes. The hard stare to scare away suitors. Your life would have been better if you were softly pretty; your hard planes and features will do you no good. No one will ever desire you"

He gave a rough chuckle. " I did her a favour by marrying her" Lies. All lies . Her mother was fine without him. Retched society that made her feel worthless if she didn't have a man willing to marry her.

"Alas I couldn't help you. For you looked exactly like her. Both worthless". He threw little Lucinda aside.

"Gerald!" A woman scream at the man standing over Lucinda, before she felt the soft warm embrace of the woman.

Lucinda eyes which had at some point turned blurry turned to seek the woman who had come to hold her, protect her. Her mother.

Gerald snarled down at them. " i was speaking the truth. You ruined her life by giving her your features "

"She's a child Gerald. Do not bring up societal standard of beauty into her life"

I am beautiful, my face does not define me. Lucinda chants. The same words her mother told her to say to herself when he father degraded her.

"It better she knows now than her coming of age ceremony. When she realize no one is interested in her".

"She is only human and your daughter. Do not treat her like a commodity."

"At least i could be proud of a commodity" he glared at little Lucinda.

I am beautiful, my face does not define me.

"She isn't the only one with these features Gerald!" Her mother glowered at her father. Her wave of thick ebony hair falling over her forest green eyes that gleamed in the dark room. Lucinda gaze strayed to the corner where she saw the servants watching. They always did when they had their fight. Maybe. Just maybe if she didn't exist, they would have been happier.

" I don't care how many populations of woman have her features or other unsightly ones. She is worthless if she doesn't amount to their standard".

"You disgust me" Her mother tone was bitter with anger and regret.

"How funny. So do you. The both of you disgust me" he glowered.

"Never forget your place. Without me Hilda, you would be the laughing stock among the elite. I did you a damn favour" he cursed and Hilda covered Lucinda's ears.

I am beautiful. My face does not me. I am beautiful, my face do not define me. She continued chanting under her breath.

The man known as her father continued to look down at them. Judging. His back against the window providing light, blurring his form as she tried to stare up at him in determination. Her mother gentle hands gently pulled her face away from the demon in-front of them, putting her face back on her lap and running her lean fingers along her equally dark waves. Her eyes were dropping. She was tired. Tired of it all.

The degrading, the hatred, the shouts.

Lucinda tired eyes roamed and stopped at a corner. Her blurry eyes clearing for a moment to see a woman staring at them; the commotion— she had blond hair getting darker with age. She has a soft beauty to her and a smile lines of her age. Her mother friend. Lucinda wished she was that pretty, maybe her father would accept her then. But What was Hagar doing here? And what was that look in her eyes. Lucinda tears ran down the side of her eye as it closed. Finding bliss in the dark silence.

•••

A sharp gasp startled Lucinda as she pulled herself away from that daze. What had happened a few minutes ago still trailed in her mind.

She had judge him. Assumed like the other. All in her desperation to hurt him too. It wasn't his fault. He didn't know how much his innocent words would hurt her. And how deep it went. Too deep into the past. Her shaking hand reached for her face to clean away the tear. As she thought, she had indeed cried.

Damn. She thought she was over this. Her dark waves had fell over her face and she threw her head back. Her mother. How long was it the last time she thought of her. She turned her head to stare out the window. The light steaming through and the songs of birds in the air. A contrast to the gloomy atmosphere in her room. One hand came to rest on her eyes blocking the light.

Memories can be so bitter sweet.