Father and Son

Dominic returned to the Capulets' estate with Oliver, where they were greeted by a line of servants. As they walked inside, Dominic's arm, now free of its bandage, drew the admiring glances of several female servants.

"When can he be mine?" one of the maids giggled to herself, just before the head maid, a stern middle-aged woman, caught wind of the murmurs.

"In your dreams! Now, get to work, all of you!" she scolded, sending the younger women scattering down the hall.

Oliver, witnessing the scene, chuckled and shook his head. He turned to Dominic, his tone becoming serious. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Dominic nodded, his expression calm. "Yes, I'll manage. Inform Grandmother that I'll be leaving Eardoznia tomorrow. Too much has happened while I've been away, and it's time to return home." His fingers absentmindedly stroked through his hair.

Oliver sighed but nodded. "Very well. I'll make sure your things are packed for the journey."

With a brief exchange of farewells, Oliver left Dominic's sight, and Dominic made his way toward his bedroom. As he approached, Caleb stepped into view, bowing slightly.

"My Lord, the letter has been delivered," Caleb said, keeping his gaze low.

"Good," Dominic replied, placing a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "I'm heading back home tomorrow. Eardoznia is no longer of any interest to me."

Caleb's eyes wandered to Dominic's unbandaged arm. "Have you healed already?" he asked, cautiously gesturing toward the spot where the injury had once been.

"Mostly. It'll take more time, but I'll survive," Dominic replied with a dismissive shrug. "Now, I need to rest."

Caleb nodded and withdrew as Dominic entered his room, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room to his telephone, intending to check on some recent affairs. He dialed the Verdaselles Palace number, waiting for the familiar sound of the ringing tone.

At Verdaselles Palace, the sound of the ringing telephone interrupted the quiet ambiance of the sitting room. Servants, assuming it was a delivery, hurried to answer it, but before one could reach the receiver, Magdalene appeared, clutching a book.

"I'll take this," she said coolly, nodding to the servant, who respectfully stepped aside.

"Hello? May I know who's speaking?" Magdalene asked, curiosity piqued.

"Miss Magdalene, it's Dominic," came the familiar neutral voice from the other end.

Magdalene blinked in surprise, her posture stiffening slightly. "Ah, Master Dominic," she greeted him, bowing her head reflexively, though he couldn't see it. "Is everything alright?"

"That depends," Dominic replied smoothly. "How did the matter in court resolve? What happened?"

Magdalene sighed. "The criminal was executed. They claimed he attempted to poison Evangeline, but..." Her voice trailed off.

Dominic's grip on the telephone tightened. "That's too convenient. Edward must have used the man as a pawn, then discarded him to clear his own name," Dominic muttered. He paused, collecting himself before continuing, "And the peach tea—how did it reach Evangeline? Was it true that the Khardes family was involved with Edward in this scheme?"

"It seems so. The prisoner admitted purchasing the tea from Edward due to his grudge against Evangeline," Magdalene replied, her tone weary. "I suspect Edward manipulated the situation, using the Khardes family to complete his mission."

Dominic sighed, brushing his fingers along the edge of the bulletin board beside him. "I suspected as much. Edward and Khardis are predictable in their malice. And they know how to pull the right strings."

Magdalene nodded to herself, her fingers absently grazing a leaf from a nearby vase. "But what reason would Khardis have to involve himself beyond his illegal dealings?"

Dominic chuckled darkly. "Nothing too personal. Just resentment. He's still bitter that I married Evangeline." His words dripped with an edge of sarcasm. "And what punishment was handed down to Edward and Khardis?"

"They were fined for their illegal imports," Magdalene answered.

"Typical," Dominic muttered with a dry smile. "Prince George won't touch them. They're family after all, and I've managed to keep him in my favor. But the fine will hurt Edward. It'll cost him dearly, and I suspect he'll be scrambling to recover."

Magdalene sighed, feeling a twinge of frustration. "I can only imagine the lengths Edward will go to."

Dominic smirked. "It's going to be amusing watching him squirm. That fine's going to drain 80% of his earnings. He'll be forced to resort to some ridiculous stunts just to get back on his feet."

"Indeed," Magdalene said, unable to hide her own distaste for Edward's underhanded ways. "I'll make sure Evangeline receives your regards."

"Oh, do send them," Dominic said with a sinister smile in his voice. "I'll be arriving tomorrow, and I'm sure our dear Evangeline will be delighted to see me."

Magdalene caught the hint of mischief in his tone but didn't comment on it. "Yes, my Lord," she said before the call ended.

Magdalene couldn't shake the bitterness that lingered after her call with Dominic. The thought of Edward—his perverted attitude, his manipulative words—made her grit her teeth in anger. He had a way of making her feel small, indebted, as if her every move was only possible because of his so-called generosity.

She clutched her book tightly against her chest, her knuckles turning white. How many times had she endured his cold, calculating gaze? How many times had she swallowed her pride just to please him? Edward's presence in the courtroom earlier had been unbearable, his smugness practically oozing from his every word. She could see the contempt in his eyes as he watched the proceedings unfold, like a puppet master pulling strings.

"How much longer can I keep pretending to be loyal to him?" she thought bitterly, her jaw clenched. His power over her was suffocating, and though she'd been useful to him once, she knew Edward wouldn't hesitate to discard her when she no longer served his interests. The fear of that inevitable moment gnawed at her.

As she brooded, the sound of children laughing and running through the halls caught her attention, pulling her from her dark thoughts. She turned her head and watched them pass by, their innocence a stark contrast to the corrupted world she had been drawn into. For a moment, she felt a pang of something—regret, perhaps—though she wasn't quite sure why.

With a sigh, Magdalene shut her book and walked through the passageway once more. But as she moved, the weight of her reality settled back over her, Edward's presence still looming in the back of her mind like a shadow she couldn't escape.

Dominic hung up the phone, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Evangeline's wedding ring, the one Magdalene had given back to him. Smirking, he spun the ring between his fingers, letting it twirl before catching it in his palm. "I can't wait to see her reaction " he mused to himself. "I wonder how long it'll take before she starts nagging."

He chuckled at the thought. Evangeline's fiery nature had always intrigued him, and he had every intention of getting under her skin upon his return. She deserved a little lesson for all her stubbornness. Perhaps he'd play the perfect husband, then subtly provoke her with his cold demeanor—his way of reminding her that he wasn't a man to be trifled with.

As the door to his room opened, a servant entered with a trolley of food and water, bowing as she approached. Dominic kept the ring hidden, his expression shifting back to its usual composed neutrality. "Leave it by the window," he ordered calmly, watching as the servant dutifully followed his instructions.

"Young Master Dominic," the maid began, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest, "I was sent by Oliver to deliver this to you."

Dominic raised an eyebrow, glancing at the food. "He really went through the trouble of preparing this for me," he thought, exhaling slowly before turning his gaze back to the servant.

"Send him my thanks," Dominic said, offering a grin that was equal parts charming and dangerous. The smile made her heart skip a beat, and a soft blush crept up her cheeks. She fumbled for a moment, pulling a small jar from the tray and stretching it toward him.

"He also said you forgot your medicine... I was instructed to give it to you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now as Dominic stood. When his fingers brushed against hers while taking the jar, her cheeks deepened to a bright red.

"His hands are so soft..." she mused internally, feeling a warmth spread through her at the fleeting touch. She fought to maintain her composure, aware that someone like Dominic was far above her station, but unable to stop her growing admiration.

Dominic nodded, not missing her reaction but saying nothing. He merely gestured for her to leave. "Thank you," he added in a tone that sent a chill down her spine.

She quickly bowed her head, her heart racing, and hurried out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, she pressed a hand against her chest, trying to calm herself. "If only..." she thought, her mind briefly wandering to fantasies she dared not entertain for long.

Meanwhile, Dominic sat back down, setting the jar aside for later. He opened the salad lid and picked up the fork with his left hand, absentmindedly taking a bite. His gaze drifted toward the window, and he sighed, feeling the weight of everything that had happened in recent days.

The tension of the past weeks, the schemes, the endless plots around him... it all seemed like a game he never asked to play but was now deeply entrenched in. His mind briefly wandered to Evangeline—her stubbornness, her fiery temper. The thought made him smirk.

"She'll certainly have her hands full when I return," he thought, spinning her wedding ring that he'd been keeping in his pocket. The ring felt cold in his hand, a stark contrast to the warmth of her presence. Dominic's eyes glimmered with mischief as he thought of the little games he'd play to get under her skin.

"I do miss your incessant nagging, princess..." he muttered, kissing the ring playfully before tucking it back into his pocket.

His sinister demeanor returned as he leaned back in his chair, plotting his next move.

Back at Verdaselles - The Bruswards House

The Study Room

Edward read the newspaper headline, his eyes narrowing at the news of the fines they were expected to pay. Anger welled up inside him as he clenched his fists, slamming one against the table. In a fit of rage, he knocked over an empty vase, which shattered upon impact, and threw the newspaper aside.

Standing by the window, a middle-aged handsome man having green eyes with black hair streaked with white, showing the signs of age, watched Edward's outburst. His salt-and-pepper beard added to the distinguished yet hardened look of the man. A large cigar hung from his mouth, the smoke curling lazily in the air. He held a walking stick with a serpent's head as its handle, tapping his finger against the cold metal. The movement caused the reflection of light to catch on a large black ring adorning his finger.

This man was Victor Brusward, father of Dominic, Anette, and Edward. His dark eyes glimmered behind a pair of glasses, and he wore a long black coat that resembled a bathrobe over a simple shirt and trousers. His feet were clad in black slippers, as though he ruled his domain with casual authority. Slowly, he approached Edward, removing the cigar from his mouth as he spoke.

"You did well letting that rat die and covering for us. Paying fines is nothing if it avoids the King's wrath," Victor said, his voice calm as he patted Edward on the shoulder.

"We'll make another plan to deal with Lady Evangeline later. What matters now is that we check the mines, as I promised," he added, taking a deep drag from the cigar before blowing the smoke into the air. He began walking away, his walking stick tapping softly on the floor as he leaned on it for support.

Edward, still fuming, turned to his father. "What about Dominic? And Richard? What should we do about them?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Victor let out a low chuckle, followed by a cough. "That's simple enough... Since Dominic wasn't at court today, we'll lure him out by kidnapping Evangeline. We'll use Magdalene as our pawn," he said with a sly smile. His voice was raspier now, weighed down by the years. "As for Richard... I'll leave that to you, my son. But that's not important right now."

He took another puff from his cigar, his breath catching briefly as he coughed again, his age beginning to show even more.

"We have other business to handle. The Bruswards have faced enough embarrassment today with that news," Victor said, his tone heavy with irritation. "Let's head to the mines before your brother gets there first."

Without waiting for a response, Victor turned and walked away, leaving Edward behind. Edward, rolling his eyes with a scoff, glanced down at the discarded newspaper on the floor. He stepped over it, heading toward the table. "I think it's time I paid Richard a visit... It wouldn't hurt, would it?" Edward mused to himself as he casually picked up a dart, flinging it at the dartboard mounted on the wall of the study room. The dart hit its mark with a soft thud, but Edward's mind was already elsewhere, plotting his next move.

Victor, now in the hallway, passed by an ornate portrait of his late wife, Marie. Her serene face seemed to watch him, a silent reminder of a time long gone. He paused briefly, his eyes lingering on the painting before he made his way to what used to be her garden. It had been renovated into a smaller, more neglected space, a shadow of its former beauty.

As he approached the gazebo, Victor shook his head, taking in the sight of the once-vibrant blossom tree that now stood lifeless. Its branches were sparse, with only a few leaves clinging desperately to the limbs. The blooms that once filled the air with fragrance were gone, leaving a stark reminder of loss.

He stopped in front of the tree, resting both hands on the serpent's head of his walking stick, gazing up at the bare branches. The wind gently stirred, rustling the few remaining leaves, as if nature itself mourned the absence of the once-thriving blossoms. Victor's thoughts turned inward, his heart heavy with the weight of memories, he cast a quick look upward at its sparse branches, his expression flat and detached. There was no sigh, no deep sense of loss—only a cold acknowledgment of what had once been.

"Our son has been causing trouble again, Marie," he thought, his neutral as if speaking directly to her. "Dominic... always the difficult one. What do you have to say about that, my darling? I miss you... I wish you were here. You always knew how to handle him, better than I ever could."

He sighed deeply, feeling the ache of her absence like a fresh wound, even after all these years. The garden had been her sanctuary, much like how she had been his—until she was gone.

The wind tugged at Victor's salt-and-pepper hair, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, imagining her standing beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. But when he opened them, there was only the hollowed-out garden and the endless ache of time passing without her.

From a distance, Benjamin watched his brother silently, arms folded across his chest. He observed Victor's melancholy stance for a long moment, before deciding to leave him in peace.

Victor, sensing he was not alone, turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of a figure retreating down the path. He didn't need to see the face to know it was Benjamin. His brother always kept an eye on him, yet never intruded too deeply into his minor grief.

Victor returned his gaze to the blossom tree, his thoughts still lingering on Marie. "If only you could see the mess we're in now... Dominic, Edward—they're more like me than I care to admit." He sighed again, feeling the weight of the years pressing down on him. "What would you have done with our son, Marie?"Victor felt no connection to the moment, no flood of memories. His thoughts remained centered on the present—the family's affairs, the embarrassment of the news, and what needed to be done next. as he continued walking, not waiting for an answer he no longer cared to hear.