Capítulo 59: You Evil Bastard
Evangeline's body writhed uncontrollably as the maids struggled to hold her down. Her mental illness had seized control once again, and her movements were frantic, her face twisted with anguish. The physician stood nearby, preparing a syringe filled with a sedative to calm her nerves. He approached with a sigh, the weight of familiarity in his every movement. As he grasped her arm firmly, Evangeline's wild eyes locked onto his, filled with fear. Just as she opened her mouth to scream, one of the maids quickly covered it, muffling her cries. The needle pierced her skin, the sedative sinking in.
"Hold her tight," the physician ordered, his voice steady but laced with concern. The maids obeyed, gripping her as she kicked and thrashed, trying desperately to break free. Tears flooded Evangeline's eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks as her body slowly began to yield to the drug's effects.
An hour later, the room had settled into an uneasy calm. The maids cautiously released their grip on her. Evangeline sat on the edge of the bed, her breathing shallow and erratic. She pressed her trembling hand to the spot on her arm where the needle had gone in, clutching at the hem of her dress with the other, the fabric balled tightly in her fist.
"This is all Grandmother's fault... She never cared how I felt..." Her thoughts spiraled into bitterness, her mind wrestling with the grief and betrayal. Richard, sitting beside her, gently massaged her shoulders, offering what little comfort he could.
The physician, wiping his hands, gave a few final instructions before departing. "She needs rest. No stress, no overthinking. She must avoid pregnancy until she's fully recovered." His voice carried the weight of routine, yet there was an underlying weariness, as if he'd said these words too many times.
Richard nodded solemnly and thanked him. As the door clicked shut behind the physician, Richard ordered the maids to leave as well. Evangeline, now more docile under the sedative's influence, clung to his shirt, her sobs quiet but heart-wrenching. Richard stroked her hair, his presence a quiet anchor amidst her internal storm.
Meanwhile, Dominic walked through the corridors of the manor, his expression cold and unreadable as always. He moved with the same mechanical grace, indifferent to the emotional weight that hung in the air. As he neared Evangeline's room, he encountered the physician in the hallway.
"Ah... Sir Dominic. Good evening," the physician greeted him with a polite bow and an awkward chuckle, attempting to break the tension.
Dominic gave a curt nod, his face remaining impassive. "Evening. How is my wife?" His voice was flat, almost as if he were inquiring about a stranger.
"She's stable now," the physician replied. "I administered a sedative, and I've advised her to rest and avoid any distress. She mustn't overexert herself, and certainly should avoid pregnancy until her condition improves." He handed Dominic a small slip of paper. "Here are the prescriptions."
Dominic glanced at the list briefly, then slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. "Thank you, Doctor." His tone was polite but detached, as if the conversation was a mere formality. With a nod, the physician departed, leaving Dominic to continue down the hallway toward Evangeline's bedroom.
As he reached the door, there was no sense of urgency in his stride. No flicker of emotion passed over his face. He reached the door, knowing Richard would be busy comforting his wife, but Dominic's eyes showed no hint of concern or warmth. It was just another duty to attend to.
Evangeline asked Richard to help her change the bandage on her arm, pointing weakly toward the drawer where she kept a small first-aid kit for emergencies. Richard gave a silent nod, walking over to retrieve it. He opened the drawer, took out the box, and returned to her side just as a knock sounded on the door. Evangeline hugged her knees while sitting on the bed, sighing.
"Must be a servant or maybe Magdalene bringing food..." she thought, her voice flat as she called out, "Come in."
Her expectations shattered the moment the door opened. It wasn't a servant or Magdalene—it was the one person she despised most, Dominic Brusward. Her mood darkened instantly, and she dropped her legs down from the bed, glaring at him with barely contained fury. Richard, noticing her change in demeanor, placed the first-aid kit beside him and gently rubbed her shoulder, trying to calm her. But Dominic walked toward the bed with his usual cold, emotionless expression.
"You're getting better, I assume," he said flatly, slipping one hand into his pocket as he stopped in front of her. His voice, devoid of warmth, made her blood boil, the very sound of it grating on her nerves.
"What is this bastard doing here? Hasn't he done enough?" she thought bitterly, her mind flashing back to the memory of him shoving her in the garden, the pain that followed still fresh in her mind. Anger welled up inside her as she clenched her fists and bit her lip, trying to suppress her rage. She lifted her head, her eyes burning with hatred.
"What are you doing in my room?" she spat. "What do you want? I thought it was Magdalene, that's why I told you to come in. If I knew it was you, I wouldn't have said anything! Now get out of my room!"
But Dominic ignored her outburst entirely, continuing his slow approach as he absentmindedly stroked his long hair. His lack of reaction only fueled her anger, his indifference cutting deeper than any argument could.
"It's tiresome dealing with Evangeline," Dominic thought, his mind detached even as her voice rose with fury. "But I can't just sit back and watch anymore. I've told myself before—I'll fix the flaws in this marriage, and I will, without hesitation. No matter how much she resists."
The clack of his shoes against the tile floor echoed through the room as he neared the bed, his eyes cold but focused.
Evangeline's patience snapped. "Didn't you hear me? Are you deaf or something?" she shouted, her voice trembling with frustration. "I told you to leave this instant!"
Richard sighed, still seated beside her, his eyes briefly meeting Dominic's before he looked away. He didn't intervene, knowing better than to get between them. Instead, he held Evangeline's arm gently, trying to soothe her agitation, but even his presence couldn't break through the tension now.
Dominic smiled slightly, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment before his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with a cold, piercing gaze. "For someone who wants to drive me out and take control of the Serenity Hotel, or perhaps claim the title of the next Viceroy, you're absolutely pathetic," he sneered, his words sharp and calculated.
The insult hit Evangeline like a slap. Her fingers dug into the bedsheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The underdress she wore slipped off her shoulder, but she barely noticed, too focused on holding back the wave of tears that threatened to spill over. The mention of her ambitions, twisted and taunted by Dominic, brought back memories of her grandmother's manipulations and the bitter reality of her forced marriage.
Dominic, noticing her reaction, leaned in slightly, his voice lowering into something colder. "Weak. Fragile. Always on edge... You can't seem to do anything on your own."
Evangeline's breath hitched at his cruel words. He knew she had accomplishments, but in this moment, it didn't matter. To Dominic, none of it mattered. He had turned into someone else entirely, someone who enjoyed toying with her emotions like they were nothing more than an amusing game.
"I thought maybe he'd apologize," she mused bitterly, her gaze falling to the floor. "But I knew better. He just wants to pick a fight, like he always does—just like when he shoved me in the garden... when he hurt me, when I got injured." Her grip tightened on the fabric, the memory of those moments fueling her anger. But instead of lashing out, she let out a small, derisive scoff. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, though it was devoid of any real warmth.
"Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?" she asked, her voice cool. "If you have nothing important to say, you can kindly use the door like you did when you walked in."
Dominic's steps faltered for a moment, his hand still casually resting in his pocket. He turned his head slightly, the sarcastic smile on his lips growing wider, though it never reached his eyes.
"If things haven't changed, I should just execute my plan as I promised myself," he thought, a cruel grin forming on his face as he toyed with the idea of pushing her further.
"I was thinking of teaching you," he said suddenly, his tone deceptively light, though the weight of his intentions was clear. The grin remained, curling at the edges like a predator preparing to strike.
Evangeline raised an eyebrow, her frustration turning to disbelief. Was he joking? No Brusward, especially Dominic, would ever offer to "teach" something unless it was meant to be taken by force. Her guard shot up instantly.
"What are you playing at?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What do you mean by that? I won't fall for your stupid games."
Dominic's gaze shifted away from her, slowly turning to Richard, who had been silently observing the exchange from beside her. "I suggest you leave," Dominic said coldly, his voice edged with a command. "This is none of your concern. Evangeline and I are married. You should know your place and stay out of marital matters."
His tone was a calculated blow, designed to strip Richard of any authority, but Richard didn't flinch. For a moment, there was silence—thick, tense silence—as Richard clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. His eyes, however, met Dominic's with a steady, unyielding glare. He refused to be cowed.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Richard said evenly, his voice matching Dominic's tone. "Evangeline asked me to help her change her bandage. I was about to, before you barged in here."
Dominic's cold smile wavered ever so slightly, surprised by the firmness in Richard's response. The air between them crackled with tension as Richard held his ground, refusing to be pushed aside.
"I suggest you mind your own business, Richard," Dominic muttered, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes now—perhaps frustration or a flicker of uncertainty. But as always, Dominic buried his emotions beneath that calculated, icy demeanor.
Richard didn't back down. Instead, he glanced at Evangeline, his hand still resting gently on her arm. "I won't leave her alone, not with you," he added quietly, but firmly. "You've done enough."
"What is this man up to?" Evangeline thought, biting her lip as her eyes narrowed, glaring at Dominic with suspicion. Her heart raced, unsure of his intentions, as his cold presence unnerved her.
"Richard, I'd like you to wait outside. I'll call you in later," she said, her voice strained but firm. Richard hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, My Lady," he replied, standing from the bed behind her. His eyes briefly met Dominic's as he walked past, tension crackling between them, but neither man spoke a word. The silence was thick, and Richard couldn't shake the feeling of unease as he exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. His last glance at Evangeline was filled with concern, hoping Dominic wouldn't trigger another mental breakdown.
Dominic, watching Richard leave, exhaled softly and moved closer to Evangeline, sitting down beside her on the bed without invitation. He reached for her arm, his movements deliberate and controlled as he began to remove the old bandage.
Evangeline snapped her head toward him, eyes blazing. "What are you doing?! I didn't ask for your help!" she spat, pulling her arm back slightly in protest.
Dominic didn't respond. His expression remained cold, indifferent, as if her outburst was nothing more than background noise. With a steady hand, he grabbed the fresh bandage, holding her arm firmly as she struggled against his grip. He carefully began wrapping it around her wound, his touch clinical yet oddly intimate.
"Just say what you want to say and—Ow!" she hissed as a sharp pain shot through her arm.
Dominic glanced at her, his face devoid of emotion. "If you keep struggling, you'll only hurt yourself. It's healing, so stay still," he said flatly, his tone neither comforting nor harsh, simply stating a fact.
As she squirmed in his grasp, Evangeline's mind raced with anger and confusion. "What is this bastard doing? Is he trying to break my arm while pretending to help? The audacity! "Her glare burned into him, but Dominic seemed entirely unaffected by her fury. He continued to wrap the bandage with a methodical precision, completely ignoring her glares. His fingers moved swiftly, the bandage tightly secured, more skillfully than even the physician had done.
She glanced down at her arm, noticing how carefully he had tended to her wound. The silence between them grew heavier as she watched him slip the thin strap of her dress back over her shoulder, his fingers brushing her skin. For a moment, she was at a loss for words, unsure whether to lash out or be startled by his unexpected attentiveness.
Dominic stood, his presence looming over her as he moved to face her directly. "I thought I should give you time before I left for my trip. Now that I'm back, I figured I owed you an explanation." He paused, his hands slipping into his pockets. His eyes wandered over her body, lingering on the necklace hanging around her neck. The pendant nestled between her breasts, drawing his attention to the subtle curve of her cleavage, and for a split second, desire flickered in his gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he suppressed whatever thoughts ran through his mind.
He exhaled and continued, though his voice wavered. "And about the dining room…"
Evangeline's patience snapped. Her eyes narrowed, burning with both anger and unshed tears. "So? If that's what you're trying to do—why stop now?" she challenged, her voice shaking with emotion. "Why this sudden act of care? Do you think you can guide me, teach me—whatever you want to call it? Who do you think you are?"
She leaned forward slightly, her fists gripping the bedsheets, her voice rising. "You've already gotten the Viceroy's position and act like you can control everything around you. Do you think you can control me too? Assault me like you did in the dining room, daring to touch me—and invade in between my legs—just because we're married?!"
Her voice cracked as the memory of his touch in the dining room resurfaced, the humiliation and violation of that moment making her tremble with fury. "You think marriage gives you the right to do whatever you want with me?"
Dominic's expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of something—perhaps guilt, or maybe realization—crossed his face, but it quickly vanished. He regained his cold composure, though his eyes briefly softened as he saw the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. He knew she wouldn't let them fall; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
For a brief moment, there was silence, the tension in the room so thick it was almost suffocating. Dominic stared at her, his mind calculating his next move, but he was no longer indifferent. He knew she was wounded, not just physically, but emotionally—and he knew he had played a part in that.
But instead of apologizing, he remained still, letting the weight of his presence speak for him.
Dominic walked toward her, leaning close until their faces were inches apart, his eyes locking onto hers with unsettling calm. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of her, trapping her in place as she breathed heavily, their lips dangerously close. Her heart raced, but his gaze remained cold, detached.
"Why do you hate me so much?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the weight of his indifference made her shiver. "Whether it was a deal or not, I helped you—and your grandmother, Lady Azielle—when Verdaselles needed it most. Your family's hotel was on the brink, and I stepped in. I know I was a stranger, and you didn't like me, but without our marriage, I would've been limited as your representative. Even your brother and Caleb knew that." He paused, watching her reaction as she turned her head away, avoiding his eyes. She clutched her arm, as though shielding herself from him, unwilling to meet the cold truth in his words.
"King Claude had his own problems in Venian," Dominic continued, his tone unflinching. "Even as the ruler of Verdaselles and Venian, he couldn't have saved your family's assets. But you? You were too young. Politics was like a house of cards in your hands—or your ballet shoes." His words stung, but he spoke them without malice, just facts laid bare.
"The first time you saw me in that office, you distrusted me instantly," he added, his voice low as he remembered the moment. "Azielle introduced us, and the moment we were married, your hatred only grew. You ruined your own coming-of-age ceremony. Then, there was the dinner—where you set a live lobster loose to attack me because you knew I liked seafood." A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes for a second, but it quickly vanished, replaced by that familiar indifference. "You nagged, threw jabs at me with your words, hoping to get a rise out of me. But no one took you seriously, and soon you were ignored at every meeting you attended with me. You stood in the shadows like an abandoned kitten, and yet, you kept causing trouble."
Dominic recalled each moment as if it were happening before his eyes, his expression never changing. "Even when we were engaged, you couldn't handle the pressure. I had to clean up every mess you made. You quit, retreated back to your art, and started displaying your works like none of it mattered. You hired a bodyguard, began an affair with him—yet I said nothing. I didn't complain. Even when you threw a stone at me in your greenhouse, injuring me in front of Caleb, I didn't say a word. So why do you loathe me so much?"
He reached out, his fingers hovering near her cheek, but before he could touch her, Evangeline smacked his hand away with sharp force, pushing him back. Her eyes blazed with fury, her voice trembling as she hissed, "That's because you're a Brusward."
Her words struck him like a cold slap, pulling him back into the present. Dominic's expression remained impassive, though something shifted in his gaze, a brief flicker of recognition of her deep-seated resentment. But he didn't respond, standing silently as she glared at him.
"I would never trust someone from the Bruswards family," she said, her voice low and biting. "I don't even think you're satisfied with the deal my grandmother made with you. I know what you want—to kill me and my grandmother, to take everything, including the Sarogaths family hotel, Serenity. After you get what you want, you'll try to seize it all." She clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"George won't let you go so easily. Neither will the rest of the royal family. You think you can manipulate your way through this, but I know better," she spat. "You'll never stop, Dominic Brusward. It's disgusting how you pretend to help me, as if you care." Her voice seethed with venom, though her eyes betrayed the deep hurt beneath her anger.
Dominic was there, unmoved. Her words fell like stones into a bottomless well. He didn't deny them, didn't confirm them. He simply watched her, his indifference as suffocating as ever, as though her hatred was nothing more than a passing storm that didn't concern him.
Dominic chuckled, running his fingers through his silky, wavy strawberry blonde hair, his smirk deepening into something cruel. "Me? Kill you?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Why would I get rid of such a pretty damsel... an angel like you? Is that what you've been thinking this whole time?" He stepped toward her again, his presence suffocating as the light faded from the room, the weight of his words filling the air.
"If that's the reason..." he thought coldly. She loathes me because she believes I'll take everything? Then nothing can be done for her delusions"
Without warning, he grabbed her chin, pulling her face upward so that their eyes met, her breath catching in her throat. She gasped as his grip tightened, and when he leaned over her, the weight of his body pressing her into the bed, she realized she couldn't break free. His free hand pinned hers down with ease, his strength overpowering, like a predator toying with its prey.
"What a shame, my beloved Evangeline..." His voice was low, dripping with venom, as he drew his lips dangerously close to hers. His thumb traced the outline of her lower lip, the intimacy of the gesture a sickening contrast to his tone. "I actually wanted you to live."
He leaned closer still, his breath warm against her skin, but his words were cold as ice. "I want you to live and witness just how pathetic and useless you are. I want you to see how insignificant, how utterly inferior you are... to a man from the terrible Bruswards family." He chuckled, a dark, chilling sound, as his expression twisted into something predatory—manipulative, calculated, and devoid of compassion.
His eyes gleamed with cruelty, his tone sharpened into a weapon designed to tear her apart. "You should watch yourself... getting used by a Brusward. Painfully." His words cut deep, their meaning like a dagger to her heart.
Dominic pulled back, his grip on her chin firm as he forced her to sit up on the bed, still holding her like she was nothing more than a doll—a toy he could bend to his will. His hand yanked her face toward him, his control over her absolute, as though she were an object he could drag wherever he pleased.
"Falling apart after losing everything you love..." His voice dropped, a whisper of death itself. "With those pretty eyes of yours welling up with tears. Don't you agree, Evangeline Sarogath?" His words were heavy, every syllable laced with the threat of ruin, as his thumb brushed her cheek with an eerie tenderness.
Evangeline's face flushed with anger and pain, and in a moment of desperate defiance, she slapped him hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the silence. But Dominic... he barely flinched. Instead, he rubbed his cheek, a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers lingering where her hand had struck, as though testing the sensation. He looked down at his fingers, almost amused, and then back at her, his expression unreadable.
She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling as she fought back tears, staring at him with a mixture of hatred and helplessness. But Dominic remained cold, indifferent as though her slap meant nothing a small distraction in the grand game, he was playing with her life.
Dominic's gaze was cold and unyielding, his voice carrying an icy edge. "You're in no position to be stubborn, Evangeline. There's only so much patience I have for your childish antics." His words cut through the air like a blade. "How long do you intend to use your resentment toward your grandmother and me as an excuse? You spend your days carelessly—drinking tea, painting, reading, and indulging in your bodyguard's company. Don't think for a second that you can just drive me away."
He leaned closer, his hand sliding possessively onto her thigh, his touch firm yet unsettling. Evangeline tensed, the irritation swelling inside her as her fists clenched tightly. When his hand moved to her waist, she could no longer bear his proximity.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice laced with both anger and fear. "Are you going to assault me again?"
Dominic ignored her outburst, his hand creeping higher toward her inner thigh. His fingers brushed her arm, trailing lightly before moving to a strand of her hair. He brought the lock to his nose, inhaling the scent of lavender from the oil she used. The intimate gesture was suffocating, mocking her every attempt to keep him at bay. He leaned in closer, pressing his lips to her neck as he breathed heavily against her skin.
Evangeline's entire body stiffened in disgust. She gritted her teeth, her heart pounding with rage. Without hesitation, she pushed him away, but Dominic's grip on her hand tightened. In a deliberate move, he brought her palm to his lips, his tongue sliding across it before he sucked on her fingers. His eyes locked onto hers, teasing and menacing all at once.
Her glare was sharp, her anger palpable as she narrowed her eyes at him. Summoning all her strength, she shoved him away with her free hand, forcing him to release her. Dominic chuckled darkly, the sound filled with malicious amusement. He turned away from her without a second glance, heading toward the door, leaving her seething, his indifference like salt in the wound
As He continued walking , he didn't glance at her he wore a smug on his face "You're Making this harder for yourself Evangeline "Then without waiting for a response He reached out for the door handle "Don't forget our bet… Quickly come up with a plan to overthrow your opponent—me," Dominic continued with a cold, mocking tone. "I'm looking forward to the day we point guns at each other. You can worry about saving your ego afterward."
Evangeline's fists clenched tightly as her body trembled with anger. "You fucking bastard… You evil bastard…" she screamed internally, the words echoing in her mind as she watched him walking toward the door. A smirk crept across Dominic's face as he reached for the door, his back still turned to her.
"She's resilient… even with everything I said," he mused to himself, secretly impressed by the strength of her mental health.
Suddenly, Evangeline stood up, gripping the bedpost for support as she stared at the floor, her hands shaking. "I'll do it…" Her voice was shaky, yet resolute. Dominic froze in his tracks, his hand still on the door handle. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her.
"I said, I'll learn from you, Dominic," she repeated, forcing the words through the tightness in her throat, her hands clutching the fabric of her gown. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but her glare held a fiery determination. "You're going to pay for this, Brusward. One day, I'll have that arrogant face beneath my feet."
The room filled with tense silence as her words hung in the air. Dominic's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, a sinister smile creeping across his lips. "Teach me…" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it was palpable.
Dominic's smirk widened, clearly pleased with her surrender. "Good," he said softly, turning his head back toward the door. Without another word, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him with a firm click.
The moment he left, Evangeline's control crumbled. She walked to the nearest vase, grabbing it and hurling it at the wall with all her might. The vase shattered into a thousand pieces, fragments of porcelain scattering across the floor. Her composure shattered along with it, and at last, the tears she had held back poured from her eyes.
Collapsing to her knees, Evangeline sobbed into her hands, her body trembling violently as the weight of everything crashed down on her. Anger, frustration, humiliation—all of it poured out in her tears as she wept alone, the broken vase mirroring the chaos inside her.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
Joeclaire
Joeclaire As the war ended, the social class system in Verdaselles and Venian underwent a drastic transformation, dismantling centuries-old hierarchies. Nobles who once held unrivaled power found themselves displaced, forced to redefine their roles in a society where titles no longer guaranteed wealth or influence. Under the Rule of King Claude, many nobles remained as civil servants, their once-glorious positions reduced to bureaucratic duties. Among them, the Sarogaths family rose in prominence, with more of their members being coronated into key positions across the two countries due to their royal blood and historical significance.
Azielle Sarogath, aside from her role as Viceroy, adapted quickly to the shifting tides. Recognizing the need for diversification, she opened a hotel and an art gallery. These ventures were part of her strategy to maintain her family's relevance as the noble class diminished. Her enterprises thrived, especially her hotel, which became a prestigious hub for both the remaining nobility and successful foreigners. The downfall of the social class system left many noble families in disarray—some, like the Bruswards, had long since embraced business, but others struggled to adjust.
While some noble families tried to recover through business ventures in Venian and Verdaselles, mostly in Verdaselles gave up their nobility altogether. Stripped of their former status, they ventured into trade and industry, seeking to rebuild what they had lost. But for other nobles,the transition was neither smooth nor profitable. Their attempts to reclaim their status often fell short, and envy festered between them and the Sarogaths, whose enterprises flourished.
The Bruswards, one of the oldest families involved in business long before the war, also sensed the shift in power. They expanded into construction, becoming formidable competitors to Azielle’s successful ventures. Rivalry and jealousy brewed among the struggling noble families, especially toward Azielle, who had managed to solidify her position in both society and business. Despite their resentment, the fact remained—those who could adapt to the new reality prospered, while others clung to their old titles and watched their influence slip away. The fall of the social class system left scars on both nobles and citizens, shaking the foundations of tradition and power that had defined Verdaselles for generations.
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