Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 198 - Hundred And Ninety Eight

The drawing room was crowded with the ghosts of Ashlyn’s ambition.

"How could this be?" Ashlyn murmured to herself. Her voice was a ragged whisper, bouncing off the silent walls.

She gripped the back of a velvet chair, her fingernails digging into the fabric.

"Derek has always been useless," she hissed, trying to force the world to fit her narrative. "Everyone knows it. The whole capital knows it. He was the skiver. The drunkard. The man who spent his days sleeping and his nights in the arms of a western witch."

She shook her head violently, her hair coming loose from its pins. She couldn’t reconcile the image of the lazy brother-in-law she despised with the commanding warlord who had just walked out of the room with the King’s scroll.

"He was cheating," she decided, her eyes narrowing. "Drinking, pretending to be someone with knowledge about the army just to impress people. It was all a show."

She started pacing, her footsteps heavy and angry.

"He must have bribed them too," she hissed, nodding to herself. The lie tasted sweet; it was comforting. "He has more money than Carlos. He bought the title just like Carlos tried to. That is the only explanation." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

She stopped in front of a mirror, staring at her pale, wild reflection.

"Because he is a good-for-nothing fool," she spat at the glass. "He doesn’t know how to lead. He doesn’t even know how to keep a family. He has no heir. He has no love. He is empty."

SLAP!

The sound was sharp, sudden, and shockingly loud in the quiet room.

Ashlyn’s head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned with a fierce, stinging heat. She stumbled back, clutching her face, her eyes flying open in shock.

Marissa stood over her.

Marissa’s hand was still raised, her palm red from the force of the blow. Her chest was heaving slightly, not from exertion, but from a cold, protective fire that blazed in her eyes.

She looked terrifying. She looked like a queen defending her king.

"Don’t you dare," Marissa whispered, her voice low and deadly. "Don’t you dare talk about my husband in that manner again."

Ashlyn opened her mouth to speak, to scream, to fight back.

Marissa moved faster. She reached out and grabbed Ashlyn’s jaw with her hand. Her fingers were strong. She squeezed Ashlyn’s cheeks, forcing her mouth into a pucker, silencing the poison before it could spill out.

"You are blind, Ashlyn," Marissa said, leaning in close. "Not everyone is like that good-for-nothing cheat you call a husband."

Marissa’s eyes bored into Ashlyn’s terrified ones.

"Derek earned his place," Marissa said. "He fought in the shadows while you played dress-up. He protected this family while Carlos was selling it piece by piece to the highest bidder."

She tightened her grip on Ashlyn’s jaw, forcing her sister to look at her.

"Your husband is not even worthy to be called a man," Marissa whispered, her voice dripping with disdain. "He is a boy. A boy who plays with toys he cannot afford. A coward who let his wife take the fall for his greed. A fool who cries for his grandmother when he gets caught."

She released Ashlyn’s mouth with a sudden, violent shove.

Ashlyn stumbled backward. Her heels caught in the hem of her dress. She fell into the chair, gasping for breath, her hand flying to her throbbing jaw.

Marissa stood tall. She straightened her dress, smoothing the silk with calm, deliberate movements. She looked down at her sister with cold, absolute indifference.

"You lost today, Ashlyn," Marissa said. "But your debt remains."

Ashlyn looked up, confusion mixing with her fear.

"Remember to pay me my money," Marissa said casually, as if she were reminding a servant to dust the shelves. "The thousand silver you borrowed. Plus the interest we agreed upon."

Marissa smiled. It was a shark’s smile.

"Otherwise," Marissa continued, her voice light, "in a month, your mother’s estate... the one you mortgaged... belongs to me. And I will not be kind."

Marissa held her black lacquer fan. She snapped it open with a sharp, dismissive flick of her wrist.

Click.

She began to flutter it, creating a gentle breeze. She turned her back on Ashlyn. She walked away from the drawing room with the grace of a conqueror leaving the battlefield, her head held high.

Ashlyn watched her go. She watched the yellow dress disappear into the hallway.

When the heavy door clicked shut, Ashlyn let out a scream. It was a scream of pure, impotent rage that rattled the windowpanes.

She grabbed a cushion and threw it at the door, sobbing in the wreckage of her life.

~ ••••• ~

Night had come to the Thompson estate. The moon was full and bright, a silver coin in the sky. It cast a pale light into the master bedroom through the open balcony doors. The air was cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine from the garden below.

Marissa entered the room. She closed the heavy oak door softly behind her. She turned the lock.

She leaned against the door for a moment, letting the mask of the Grand Duchess fall away. She had left her room, dressed in her nightgown and robe, and came to his.

She looked toward the bed.

Derek was waiting for her.

He was sitting on the edge of the huge four-poster bed. He had already changed out of his commander’s uniform. He was dressed in loose, white linen night trousers. His chest was bare, the firelight from the hearth dancing on his skin, highlighting the definition of his muscles and the faint, white scars of his past battles.

He looked relaxed, leaning back on his hands, but his dark eyes tracked her every movement with a focused intensity.

"Your hair is still undone," Derek teased.

A playful smile touched his lips as he saw her at the door, her hair still in a severe low bun. It was the smile she loved.

"How are you going to reward me?" he asked. "For making you proud today? I saved the family honor. I looked very dashing in my uniform, didn’t I? Even the King was impressed."

Marissa just smiled. It was a slow, secret smile. She didn’t answer him with words.

She walked past him. She went to the vanity table. She didn’t sit down. She stood in front of the large mirror, watching him watch her in the reflection.

She reached up. Her hands moved gracefully. One by one, she removed the pins from her hair.

They hit the wooden table softly. Her dark hair, released from its confinement, tumbled down. It fell over her shoulders in a cascade of soft, shiny curls, reaching down her back.

Derek watched her, mesmerized. He stopped teasing. He just watched the way the light caught her hair.

"Ashlyn threw a big banquet for Carlos," Derek continued, his voice lower now, pouting slightly like a boy who felt ignored. "She spent a fortune. She invited the whole city. And he disgraced her."

He sighed dramatically, shifting on the bed.

"I didn’t get a banquet," Derek complained softly. "I didn’t get a parade. I didn’t get musicians playing for me."

He looked at her back, his eyes hungry.

"I just got a scroll," he said. "And a lot of work. Being a commander is very tiring, you know. My shoulders ache."

Marissa turned around.

She picked up a long, silk ribbon from the vanity table. It was the color of midnight.

She wrapped the ribbon around her right hand. She wound it slowly through her fingers, testing its strength, letting the silk slide over her skin.

Then, she reached for the ties of her robe.

She untied the knot at her waist. The silk robe slid off her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a soft, whispering heap.

She was wearing a sheer nightgown underneath. She reached for the straps. She lowered them.

The nightgown followed the robe, a whisper of white fabric settling around her ankles.

She stood there, naked in the moonlight.

Her skin glowed like pearl. She looked powerful. She looked like a goddess of war and love, come to claim her tribute. She didn’t cover herself. She stood proud, letting him see her.

Derek swallowed hard. His throat bobbed.

His playful demeanor vanished instantly. The pout was gone. It was replaced by a raw, intense hunger. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating until they were almost black. His hands gripped the bedsheets.

Marissa walked toward him slowly. Her hips swayed with a natural, hypnotic rhythm. Her eyes were locked on his. She radiated a commanding aura that filled the room, silencing his complaints.

She stopped right in front of him. She stood between his knees, her body inches from his.

She looked down at him. She held up her right hand, the one wrapped in the black silk ribbon.

"Strip," she ordered.