“Let’s go, My Lady.”
“Why all of a sudden?”
Violet looked back and forth between the nanny and the old gentleman. She looked flustered, clearly unaware of the gravity of the situation. Watching her, the old gentleman roared.
“Once we return to the mansion, you are forbidden from going out for the time being!”
“Ah, Father.”
The old gentleman’s gaze sharpened, blue-hot rage flashing in his eyes. He strode toward the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, Vincent Bellunita was standing there, braced by a visibly anxious Ethan Christopher.
After glaring at Vincent for a beat, the old gentleman raised his hand. In a blur of movement, he struck Vincent’s face. *Thwack!* The sound cracked through the hall, and Vincent staggered, falling back. Ethan Christopher hurriedly caught him, looking frantic. We, the onlookers, gasped in shock.
Violet screamed and sprinted down the stairs, her nanny trailing in a panic. I tried to follow, but Lucas caught my arm, pulling me back. I looked at him, confused, but he merely shook his head.
I had no choice but to watch, my nerves frayed to the breaking point.
Violet rushed to Vincent, frantic, checking if he was hurt. Then, she turned to the old gentleman.
“Father, why are you doing this!”
“How dare you deceive me and meet my daughter!”
“What are you talking about? Deceive you?”
“How little you must think of our family to hide the fact that you can’t see! How dare you covet my daughter with a body like that!”
The shout was thunderous. Violet gasped, stunned. I felt the same; the reason for his sudden, violent rage became painfully clear. Beside them, Ethan Christopher looked miserable, as if he had known this day was inevitable.
Meanwhile, Vincent pushed himself up, his posture hunched. The side of his face where he’d been struck burned a deep, angry red. Yet, his expression remained unnervingly calm.
“Fa, Father. Please, don’t do this.”
Violet grabbed the old gentleman’s arm, her hands trembling. Her voice broke as she whispered, “Father.” He shook her off with such force that she lost her balance. She would have fallen if the nanny hadn’t rushed forward to catch her.
“Take her away, now! And know that once we return, the engagement is broken!”
“Father!”
Violet’s cry was met with a scathing glare. She flinched, shrinking into herself until her frame looked impossibly small. Still, she gathered her courage and spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
“I—I don’t want to break the engagement.”
“What do you lack that makes you want to deal with that man’s burdens! What will people say if you keep a husband who can’t even see by your side? Are you so infatuated that you’re willing to shame this family?”
“No! No, Father. I would never. I—I just… I love Vincent.”
“You ugly thing.”
“……”
The old gentleman clicked his tongue. Violet recoiled again.
“It is because you act so pathetically that he became arrogant enough to hold on without breaking the engagement.”
“Bu—but.”
“I don’t want to hear it! Shut your mouth!”
His shout drowned her out.
“……”
Violet clamped her mouth shut. Her face contorted, tears brimming in her eyes. The nanny held her tight, trying to offer what comfort she could.
It was then.
“I will break the engagement.”
The words shattered the silence. Every head turned toward Vincent, who had steadied himself and stood upright. Ethan Christopher covered his face with one hand, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could no longer bear the scene.
Vincent spoke again, his face devoid of emotion.
“I will do as you say.”
“Vincent!”
Despite Violet’s desperate cries, he didn’t waver. She rushed to him, shaking his shoulders, begging him to retract his words. When he remained frozen, she buried her face in his chest and broke into racking sobs.
“That’s enough now. Go back.”
“Don’t do this. You said you wouldn’t break the engagement.”
“Then you must turn your back on your family. Can you do that?”
“I can.”
“Violet.”
Vincent raised his hands, tracing the line of her jaw to find her face. He lowered his head, tears carving tracks through his own composure.
“Without your family’s help, without your nanny, you would be tethered to a husband who cannot see. You would spend your whole life by my side, tending to my needs, isolated from the world. You would have to give up everything you love. Everywhere you go, people will stare. And if you are hurt because of that, I won’t even be able to see it. I won’t be able to protect you. I would only be groping at the air.”
“……”
“That is the life you’d be choosing. Are you truly capable of living it?”
Violet opened her mouth, but the words failed her. Her violet eyes shimmered with doubt, the hesitation stealing her voice. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Vincent offered a sad, knowing smile and stroked her hair.
“I don’t want that for you. Go back.”
Violet shook her head, tears falling unchecked. The old gentleman signaled to the shadows. A large man stepped out, grabbed Violet’s arm, and hauled her away. She struggled, her fingers clawing at the air, but her delicate frame was no match for the servant’s strength.
Her hands slipped from Vincent’s coat.
“Vincent!”
“……”
She was dragged out of the mansion, the nanny scrambling to follow. Her tear-choked cries grew fainter until they were swallowed by the silence of the hall.
The old gentleman turned his freezing gaze to Vincent.
“I hope you keep your word.”
“……”
“I cannot forgive your deception, but for the sake of your parents, I will let it go this time. Do not covet my daughter any longer.”
With that, the old gentleman strode away, his steps heavy and decisive.
After he left, the hall settled into a hollow silence. Then, a new sound echoed: footsteps on the stairs. James Christopher appeared, looking around at the wreckage of the scene. Everyone’s eyes, save for Vincent’s, locked onto him.
Vincent’s condition had been a fragile secret, protected by our collective silence. We all knew instinctively who had shattered it.
James Christopher adjusted his cuffs and took a step forward. As he brushed past me and Lucas, his gaze sharpened on Lucas. Lucas shuddered, his grip on my hand turning painful. James didn’t say a word, continuing his descent until he reached the floor, where he marched straight toward Vincent. Before he could get close, Ethan Christopher intercepted him.
Trying to mask the tension, Ethan smiled.
“Are you heading back?”
“Yes. There’s no need to stay any longer.”
James’s eyes remained fixed on Vincent, despite his answer. Ethan stepped, subtly blocking his view.
I saw the opening and hurried to Vincent’s side. He stood staring at the door, his breath shallow, his body as still as stone. Even when Lucas called out to him, he didn’t respond.
“Master. Let’s go to the room.”
“……Yes.”
I supported his weight, and he leaned into me, heavy and broken.
As we turned to leave, James Christopher intercepted us again, looking us over with open mockery.
“That was a good show.”
“……”
I widened my eyes, glaring at the bastard. I didn’t care about the consequences; the fury burning in my chest was enough to override my survival instincts.
James narrowed his brows, clearly offended that a mere maid would hold his gaze. He began to part his lips, his expression turning menacing, when Ethan Christopher stepped between us.
“James.”
The man’s gaze shifted, his annoyance palpable.
“Where did you leave the carriage?”
“Outside.”
“I’ll see you off. Let’s go.”
“Fine.”
James shot me one last, lingering look of contempt. Only then did I lower my head, my skin prickling from the weight of his gaze. Soon, his footsteps faded out the door. When I looked up, Ethan Christopher was heaving a sigh of relief.
“I don’t think I’ll live a full life because of you, maid.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I understand. But don’t do that again.”
His smile was light, but his eyes were deadly serious. He checked on Vincent one last time, then caught Lucas’s eye. He leaned in, his voice a low, urgent murmur.
*Please take care of the two of them.*
Ethan followed James out.
***
A long time had passed since that day. The mansion felt as it had when I first arrived—desolate, silent, as if time had frozen, leaving the boisterous, violent day behind like a half-remembered dream.
I walked down the quiet hallway, the sound of my own footsteps echoing against the walls.
Since that day, Vincent Bellunita had retreated into his room. Every night, the darkness of his nightmares seemed to bleed into the halls. Recently, the gaps between them had grown, but the nightly groans of pain remained. I listened through the door, ready to run to him the second he called, but he never did. He endured it in the dark, entirely alone.
On the day James visited, I had feared Vincent might spiral, but he had simply returned to his routine. He ate, he washed, he listened to the books I read aloud. But he never left his room.
I was relieved by his normalcy, yet it was precisely this composure that frightened me. He wore a mask of stillness, a face that suggested everything was perfectly fine, while the foundation of his world had been ripped away.