Chapter 69
“Aaron.”
“I was told you called for me.”
Aaron entered the imperial palace the following day. Even though he knew Amelia had summoned him urgently, he deliberately delayed for a whole day before coming.
“Ian almost died.”
Amelia didn’t mince words. And she knew Aaron wouldn’t find her bluntness suspicious either. She was someone who could hardly stand being in the same space with him in the first place. Of course, she would want to keep the time short.
“I heard.”
Aaron’s reply was light. Even though a child had almost died, there was no trace of regret in his voice. It was yet another reminder: Aaron was one hell of a bastard.
“It was the Emperor’s doing.”
Amelia spoke again. Aaron didn’t bother with even a token response like Is that so?—he just walked over to her table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
“Why do you think so?”
“When Ian turns two, he’ll be recognized as crown prince. You and the duke find him useful, so you’ve no reason to harm him.”
“…”
“On the other hand, the Emperor must see Ian as a thorn in his side. And he knows that by the oath, even if Ian dies, I can’t retaliate.”
Amelia’s words poured out like flowing water. It was a convincing line of thought—just about what Aaron would expect her to come up with.
“I see.”
Aaron smiled kindly. Amelia flinched. Whenever he smiled beautifully, like in a painting, there was always a reason. Most of the time it meant mockery or scorn. And since he had no need to hide his thoughts from her, with Amelia it was always without exception.
“All that sounds plausible, yet I can’t help but feel uneasy.”
Amelia sensed a subtle tension hanging in the air. And then Aaron’s low voice pierced into her ear.
“It’s so plausible, it’s suspicious.”
Time with Aaron had left clear traces. Liking or disliking that was beside the point. Just as Amelia could predict him to some degree, Aaron could read her mind as well. He had always been the one rolling her around in the palm of his hand.
“Your thoughts and position would never line up so neatly with mine. And the Emperor wouldn’t dance so obediently to our tune.”
Aaron laid bare his suspicion. He was giving her the chance to confess on her own.
“The child wasn’t harmed by the Emperor. In fact, seeing how quickly he recovered, it doesn’t even seem like it was a serious threat.”
“…”
“Am I right?”
Aaron asked. Amelia stared back at him with a hard expression. In her mind, her last conversation with Ivan replayed.
“Wait.”
As Amelia laid the drowsily purring Ian down on the bed, Ivan—as always—turned to leave. Suddenly recalling what she had forgotten, she hurriedly grabbed him.
“Tell me.”
Ivan urged her curtly, his face indifferent. As if asking, Are you only now getting to the point?—proud and arrogant.
“Make an attempt on Ian’s life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need something that will provoke Aaron into moving.”
At the very least, Aaron had to set foot in the palace before she could try to stir him into action. Even after knowing Ivan had sent a marriage proposal to the Count of Clarke’s house, Aaron had yet to move—only watching, it seemed.
“I need him to believe I’ve been blinded by rage against you.”
“I never thought you’d bring a child’s life into play, even as a joke.”
Ivan finally spoke. His delayed response showed just how much he hadn’t expected Amelia to put Ian’s life into the game.
“I don’t mean to truly endanger him. Just enough commotion around him so it looks serious from the outside… but without any real risk.”
“Fine.”
Ivan gave his consent.
So Amelia thought her plan wasn’t wrong. She meant to build a dynamic where she lashed out at Ivan out of vengeance, and Ivan retaliated. A toxic entanglement, a mud-slinging mess for all to see.
But Aaron had already realized it wasn’t Ivan. He suspected Amelia herself. Now cornered, her mind spun desperately.
“…”
If she delayed any longer, Aaron might even uncover that she and Ivan had made some sort of deal.
Amelia clasped her trembling hands tightly together in her lap, lifted her chin slightly, and steeled herself.
She couldn’t let him suspect. In that case—
“Yes.”
Better to act like a madwoman. A woman insane enough to gamble even her child’s life.
“I did it.”
“You personally?”
“Yes.”
When Amelia admitted it without resistance, Aaron fell silent. Tilting his head slightly, he studied her—like he was trying to read her thoughts.
“Even if I want to kill him with my own hands right now, you have to agree and help me.”
Amelia spoke first, laying out her true reason. Because it was the truth, she didn’t find it hard to look Aaron straight in the eyes.
“Didn’t you hear it from Louis?”
“…”
“That I liked him.”
Aaron’s face, which had kept its usual smile even while studying her intently, went completely expressionless.
“…”
Watching his face, Amelia’s lips curled into a smile.
“They say he’s marrying another woman.”
She wanted to appear deranged with jealousy over something she couldn’t have.
“He’ll take my child as his heir, then live happily with another woman as his wife. How could I not feel sick with rage?”
“…”
“If I can’t have that place, then no one should.”
Her words fired out like bullets, as if swept away in a torrent of emotions, hardly aware of what she was saying anymore.
“If I can’t have him, then no one can. Not ever.”
Amelia stopped. She saw blue fire sparking in Aaron’s eyes as he stared at her. And in that moment, she realized a truth—like a lightning bolt striking her mind.
You’re thinking the same thing I am.
“You know it better than anyone.”
You like me.
Aaron Skipper’s filthy desire for Amelia Escleaf. A shadow of emotion she had never recognized before—because she had never once known what it was to like someone.
“Isn’t that right?”
How dare you.
Amelia sneered as she asked. With a crack, the mask Aaron wore fractured.
“You scarred my body to ruin me, dragged me into despair to make me submit.”
The thought alone made her scoff. To think he had dared to call such filth affection. It was nauseating.
“What? You think I’m lying?”
Amelia asked. Aaron said nothing. Perhaps he couldn’t gauge her feelings—or perhaps he simply didn’t want to know.
“Shall I show you how sincere I am?”
Amelia stood. Aaron’s gaze, as always, followed her.
“…”
She walked straight over and straddled his lap. For once, Aaron’s face—usually so unreadable—showed a flicker of surprise.
“You know well enough how much I hate and despise you.”
“…”
“And yet I mean it enough that I could endure even you holding me.”
Amelia grabbed his hand and pressed it against her full breast. Like a child with a toy, Aaron squeezed, the curve of flesh collapsing under his palm.
Her heart raced wildly. But Amelia didn’t stop—she guided his other hand behind her back. Unlike the dresses she wore at the temple, these highborn gowns buttoned at the back, needing an attendant’s help to undo.
“…”
Aaron’s hand on her chest slid to her waist, gripping it firmly. His other hand flicked at the top button of her dress. Amelia sat still and let him. Then his fingers moved boldly, undoing the buttons one by one.
The loosened fabric slackened and slipped down, baring her shoulders. Amelia forced herself to stay steady, refusing to scream or pull away. Aaron’s eyes never left her trembling frame, her spine held rigid.
At last, the cloth at her chest began to slide down. That was when Aaron stopped.
“If you thought I’d refuse a fortune dropped into my lap, you’re mistaken.”
Lifting Amelia into his arms, Aaron stood, striding out of the parlor. His steps carried them toward her bedchamber.
“—!”
The moment she realized, their two bodies fell together onto the bed.
