Wicked Husband-Chapter 65 - 64

Eileen had always found Cesare’s sporadic displays of emotion to be puzzling. The intensity of his feelings overwhelmed her, and his words and actions often felt alien. She wanted to understand what had caused such a change in him.

However, asking Cesare directly about the reason for his transformation was no easy task. While Eileen was tense and trembling, Cesare remained relaxed and calm. He gently shook the hand that Eileen was holding, causing her to let go in surprise. Quickly, Cesare grasped her wrist, preventing her from fleeing.

Eileen’s wrist was much smaller compared to his large hand, allowing him to easily hold both of her wrists with one hand. Cesare held her wrist firmly and spoke in a calm manner, as if nothing had happened.

"Weren’t you curious about the scar?"

"I’m curious about that, too."

She had asked about the wedding ring first because it felt like the right thing to do. There was a vague sense in her mind that the disappearance of the scar and the wedding ring were somehow connected.

With determination, Eileen looked up at Cesare, resolved to get answers from him. However, her resolve melted away as soon as she met his crimson eyes.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain; Cesare was gripping her wrist too tightly. She whispered softly to him.

"It hurts..."

Despite her cautious plea, Cesare did not release her wrist immediately. He stared at her intently for a moment before slowly loosening his grip. Then, he began to rub the red mark left on her wrist, his lips parting to speak.

"I read your diary," he whispered with a mischievous smile, his eyes curving like crescent moons.

"It was quite cute, Eileen."

Her heart sank at the mention of her diary. It contained all her mundane thoughts and feelings, including every sentiment she had about Cesare, both loving and resentful.

The diary had been her emotional outlet, a place where she poured out her feelings and then forgot about them. She couldn’t even recall what she had written in it. The thought of Cesare reading everything made her want to run away, but she suppressed the impulse and tried to think calmly. What Cesare claimed seemed physically impossible.

"But... you didn’t have time to do that."

Eileen cautiously pointed out the inconsistency, which only deepened Cesare’s smile. A dark, crimson hue flashed in his eyes. As she gazed into those deep, intense eyes, Eileen bit her lip.

’Those eyes again.’

Eyes that held heavy and profound emotions she couldn’t fathom.

Cesare didn’t respond to her correction. Instead, he brought her wrist, marked by his grip, to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on the red mark before finally speaking.

"The scar on my hand..."

His answer was vague and left Eileen even more puzzled.

"It was the price I had to pay. Just as you became the Grand Duchess to avoid execution, I had to pay an appropriate price."

His words didn’t make sense to her. In fact, they weren’t meant to be understood by her. With his answer, Eileen became certain: Cesare didn’t want her to know the truth.

The elation she had felt moments ago crashed to the ground. Covered in the metaphorical dirt, Eileen thought to herself.

’I may be the Grand Duchess, but I am still someone who only receives.’

A burdensome weight rather than a help. It made perfect sense that Cesare couldn’t rely on her, yet her heart ached nonetheless. It felt as if someone had burst her sweet dream with a sharp needle.

The harsh reality stung. But Eileen, refusing to give up, summoned the last of her courage.

"I don’t understand what you mean," she said, looking up at Cesare cautiously. "Can you explain it in more detail?"

She must have appeared desperately hopeful, but Cesare coldly dismissed her plea.

"Not now."

Though she didn’t want to, being outright rejected by him made her heart ache more than ever. It felt as if Cesare had publicly confirmed her uselessness. Eileen’s lips moved wordlessly for a while before she quietly responded.

"Okay..."

Reluctantly unable to meet her eyes any longer, he lowered his gaze. Without forcing her to lift her head, Cesare gently cupped Eileen’s cheek with his hand. He simply stroked her cheek quietly and spoke.

"When I first met you, you were crying. And you were crying even at the end."

Silence hung between them for a moment.

"Now, if there’s anything that might make you cry, I want to delay it as much as possible."

Eileen replied with a quivering voice, her nose slightly twitching as she made an effort to speak.

"I, I feel like crying even now..."

"It’s okay to cry a little."

The question of how much to cry hung heavy in the air. Stifling a sob, Eileen pressed her lips together, only to be met with a kiss from Cesare.

His touch was a paradox – a tender caress that held a subtle edge of control. He kept their lips slightly parted, preventing her from biting down. Delicate licks explored the smooth surface of her teeth and the sensitive inner lining of her mouth.

Arousal flickered beneath Eileen’s skin as he stroked her gently, even as he captured her fleeing tongue in a playful tug-of-war. Then, with a final sweep of his tongue against the pooling saliva, he pulled away.

Eileen gasped for air, her chest heaving noticeably. Cesare, gazing down at her flushed face, spoke softly, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

"Eileen," he murmured, "it seems I can’t help but make you cry, at least a little."

***

Twelve. Eileen was twelve when it happened, Cesare nineteen. News of the child’s abduction hit him like a physical blow. Disregarding orders, he rode straight for the enemy empire. It was a blatant act of desertion, and Cesare knew it.

Fear was a distant echo. His loyal knights, ever faithful, followed. Five crimson marks, symbols of his transgression, were etched side by side on his back.

But fear couldn’t stop him. He had to save her.

"Such insolence!" The Emperor’s voice boomed, laced with betrayal. "To defy me after all these years, after the trust I’ve placed in you!"

Cesare knelt, bare-chested, a silent statue absorbing the Emperor’s wrath. The old man, a fearsome warrior in his youth, retained his strength even in his twilight years. Each crack of the whip left a stinging welt, blood blossoming on Cesare’s back.

The Emperor viewed Cesare almost as his own reflection. Although they bore little physical resemblance beyond their large stature and fierce countenance, he frequently boasted that Cesare mirrored him in every aspect. Whenever Cesare achieved victory on the battlefield, the Emperor claimed it as his own accomplishment.

Unable to accept that his beloved prince had deserted his duty for the sake of a mere child, the Emperor took it upon himself to administer the punishment with the whip, aiming to educate his cherished prince.

Despite being covered in blood from head to toe, Cesare did not utter a single whimper. Pausing momentarily in his barrage of lashes, the Emperor extended the blood-dripping whip and asked, "Has she at least become your woman?"

Cesare stifled a bitter laugh and then forced out a response.

"That child is only 12 years old."

At the first voice heard since the start of the whipping, the Emperor chuckled dryly. He looked down at Cesare and asked in a somewhat softened tone,

"Though a bit early, she’s at the age to marry soon. Has she had her first period?"

Cesare remained silent for a moment. After swallowing the congealed blood in his mouth, he finally replied,

"...As far as I know, she hasn’t."

"Is that so? Well then, where shall we assign her for your s*xual education?"

Throughout the execution of his punishment, Cesare kept his eyes lowered, finally lifting them when it was over. The Emperor smirked with disdain.

He was drawing a line for Cesare. It meant, ’That child can never be your marriage partner, so if you harbor any feelings, keep them physical only.’

"I was only concerned because she is the daughter of my nanny," Cesare stated firmly, meeting the Emperor’s gaze without wavering.

"You know well that I grew up without a mother."

To Cesare, who had endured neglect and abuse from his birth mother, the daughter of his nanny was the only person he had ever cherished. His carefully constructed facade once again shielded Eileen from harm. The Emperor, swiftly mollified, burst into a sneering laugh.

"Securing the lineage with a noble is a commendable pursuit. But my son, you must also learn to manage the lower ranks."

The Emperor’s eyes bore into Cesare’s, delivering a solemn warning.

"Such an incident must not occur again. Do you understand?"

Acknowledging Eileen’s significance, Cesare swallowed his bitterness deeply. After a pause, he smiled slowly and replied.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

In that moment, Cesare resolved to end the Emperor’s life.