Bab 64: 64. "Bitter Redemption: Rubbing Salt on Nathaniel's Wounds"

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"Considering the previous acts perpetrated by the Sterling head, it has become evident that his temper knows no bounds. To engage him directly would court a perilous outcome, potentially thrusting us into the depths of crisis. Even if we emerged unscathed, the toll on our family's reputation and wealth would be immeasurable."

Each word carried weight, resonating with the gravity of the situation they faced.

Old Head Delacroix, surveyed the assemblage of elders, his countenance a reflection of profound contemplation.

The burden of choice lay heavy upon his shoulders, the fate of their family intricately entwined with the outcome of this perilous endeavor.

"Very well... I comprehend the gravity of the situation. I am fully aware that this decision is imperative for the betterment of our family. However, once this matter is resolved, we must tread carefully when selecting the worthy heir to our legacy," Sr. Delacroix expressed with an internal sigh, acknowledging the task bestowed upon him—pacifying the Sterling family, as the elders themselves lacked the fortitude to undertake it.

His words, though they conveyed reason, soured the mood of the elders, who had thrown their support behind Nathaniel, a choice that now seemed ill-advised as he had caused considerable trouble and put the esteemed patriarch in an arduous position.

"Yes, we comprehend," both elders nodded with a semblance of understanding, their countenances betraying a touch of resentment at Sr. Delacroix's words.

"Very well, then. You may take your leave," Sr. Delacroix commanded, observing the elders' reluctant agreement.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed everyone from his opulent room, yearning for solitude in order to deliberate in seclusion.

As the room emptied and the door closed behind them, Sr. Delacroix found himself alone, bathed in the soft glow of the flickering candlelight.

"Step...step...!!"

He paced the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the ornate walls, his mind awash with the weighty considerations before him.

His eyes gazed out of the grand window, beyond which the moon illuminated the tranquil night sky.

Its ethereal light bathed the room in a silvery hue, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the tapestries adorning the walls.

In this quiet moment, Sr. Delacroix's thoughts wandered, like restless specters, through the corridors of his mind.

The choice of a worthy heir was not one to be taken lightly, for it would shape the course of the family's fortunes, its very essence, for generations to come.

Sr. Delacroix sank into an exquisite armchair, its velvety upholstery embracing him as he sought solace in its plush embrace.

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Inside the cold, desolate confines of the jail, Mara stood before the stern-faced officer, her delicate features masked by a small, yet haunting smile. She exuded an air of quiet confidence, coupled with impeccable manners that hinted at a hidden purpose. Her eyes, shimmering with an enigmatic glint, seemed to hold a story untold.

"Hello, officer," Mara greeted, her voice dripping with a soft elegance. "May I have a brief encounter with Mr. Nathaniel? Just a few minutes of his time."

The officer, a stalwart guardian of justice, glanced at the name inscribed within the neatly arranged files before him. "Mr. Nathaniel Delacroix," he muttered, his eyes scanning the words etched upon the page. "The culprit responsible for the grievous injury inflicted upon Sir Sterling. And who might you be in relation to Mr. Nathaniel?"

A subtle sadness danced across Mara's face, tugging at the officer's curiosity. "I was once an assistant in his company," she replied, her voice tinged with a melancholic undertone. "But since the incident, I find myself without employment, cast adrift in a sea of uncertainty."

The officer pondered her words for a moment, his gaze fixed upon her. A glimmer of sympathy flickered within his eyes, tempered by the unwavering dedication to his duty. After a brief contemplation, he made his decision.

"Hmmn," the officer grumbled, his gaze shifting to the timepiece encircling his wrist. "You shall be granted the opportunity to see him, but from a safe distance. Two minutes is all I can spare."

With a nod of gratitude, Mara accepted the officer's permission, her heart fluttering with a mix of trepidation and anticipation.

The heavy metal door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room where she would be granted her brief rendezvous with Nathaniel.

Stepping inside the dimly lit room, Mara braced herself for the impending encounter. The air felt heavy with anticipation, as if it carried the weight of her past trauma and the lingering suffering that haunted her every waking moment.

It was a bittersweet salve she sought, a chance to confront the source of her pain and find a small measure of relief, even though she knew that the scars of the past could not be undone by this single act.

Yet, she couldn't help herself; the desire to rub salt in his wounded heart consumed her.

"Okay, your time starts now!" announced the officer, his voice echoing through the cold, desolate space. With those words, he left her alone, separated from Nathaniel by a daunting iron bar.

Mara stood there, undeterred by the barrier, her fear of him diminished to the point of insignificance.

Moments later, the officer reappeared, leading Nathaniel into the room from the opposite side.

As his eyes met Mara's, a glimmer of hope sparked within him, a belief that perhaps his family had finally reached out and she carried good news about his imminent release from this wretched jail.

"Ohh, it's you!" Nathaniel exclaimed, his face lighting up with a wide smile. "Did you come here with good news? Has my family contacted you?"

Mara's lips curled into a malicious smile, though her expression remained stoic.

She savored the momentary happiness dancing in Nathaniel's eyes, knowing that she was about to shatter it into a thousand painful shards.

The satisfaction she derived from this twisted encounter was a perverse one.

"Nope, no one has contacted me," she replied with a touch of coldness, relishing the power of her words.

"I have bad news for you, Nathaniel. You will remain confined here, locked away from the world. And after the court trial, a very grand place awaits you—a place where you will finally understand what a low life like you truly deserves."

As Mara spoke, her voice dripped with icy certainty, each word calculated to seep into Nathaniel's bones and chill him to the core.

In her last sentence, her face transformed, contorting into a visage of menacing fury. The shift was so sudden and unexpected that Nathaniel couldn't help but shiver involuntarily, the fear washing over him like an icy wave.

The darkness in Mara's eyes mirrored the darkness that had consumed his own soul, and for a brief moment, he glimpsed the depth of her torment, a reflection of his own sins staring back at him.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Nathaniel's initial delight turned to bitter rage, his voice strained with fury. "No... huff... bitch... How dare you use that tone with me!"

...

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