Chapter 45
He fitted a funnel into his wife’s mouth as she hung there like a puppet, suspended by the long cords.
Thin gruel was poured down her throat, forced into her body. Unable to resist, Emily swallowed it, her olive eyes flickering with dark, venomous fury.
Carlos didn’t care in the slightest. Wiping his hands with a damp cloth, he spoke as calmly as ever.
“Mother is finally beginning to regain her composure.”
“Mm…!”
“What a shame. Your scheme failed.”
Her bloodshot eyes glared at him with murderous hatred. Unbothered, Carlos tilted his head slightly, as though a thought had just occurred to him.
“Shall we hear your voice for once, wife?”
He removed the gag, a specially made ball with a hole to allow the funnel through. Freed, Emily’s first words came out hoarse and raw.
“Go to hell… you monstrous bastard.”
“You won’t have your tongue free for long.”
Carlos said it lightly, without anger. Emily bit her lip, still glaring at him.
“…What are you going to do with me now?”
“Well… what should I do?”
He let the question hang, leisurely. Then, with a smile, he added,
“Either way, since you’re carrying my child, I intend to take good care of you, so you can deliver a healthy baby.”
She wanted to laugh at his idea of care, but she knew it would be pointless. As Carlos idly rolled the metal gag in his hand—as if measuring time—Emily felt her window was closing.
So she asked what had been weighing on her mind.
“…Why did you make Brunhilde miscarry?”
You love your own mother so disgustingly.
If you were going to keep me like this anyway, you could have ended my pregnancy and raised Brunhilde’s child as your wife’s.
In this house, your authority is absolute.
Then why?
Why erase your mother’s child… and insist on mine?
For a moment, something flickered across Carlos’s face, so faint it was almost imperceptible. He smiled again, soft and gentle, and stepped closer.
Leaning in, he whispered into her ear.
“…What—?!”
Emily’s eyes flew wide in horror. She tried to speak, but Carlos was faster. He slipped the gag back into her mouth.
“Shh. You need to be quiet.”
“Mmph! Mm—!”
“Just one more day. Tomorrow, I’ll have you tied back to the bed.”
He muttered, almost to himself, that he would have preferred to keep her like this until childbirth. But that might endanger the precious baby she carried.
His face remained perfectly calm, as though nothing at all was wrong.
Soon, the lights went out.
In the pitch-dark room, Emily struggled against her bonds like a trapped animal.
* * *
After securing the gag again, Carlos left the room and went downstairs.
The corridor leading to his mother’s quarters was quiet and secluded.
With a soft knock, he opened the door. Brunhilde sat in a rocking chair, staring blankly into nothing. He offered a faint smile and approached her.
“Mother…”
His voice was soft, almost fragile.
At her son’s unfamiliar tone, a faint spark returned to Brunhilde’s dull eyes. She looked down at her son, kneeling at her feet, and spoke.
“What’s wrong? You seem… troubled.”
Even after everything, a trace of her lingering affection colored her weak voice. Looking up into the violet eyes so like his own, Carlos spoke in a heavy, subdued tone.
“It’s all my fault, Mother.”
“…What are you saying?”
“I should have acted sooner.”
Confusion clouded her face. Carlos spoke in short gasps, as though struggling to get the words out.
“It was all… Emily’s doing.”
“…Explain it properly. What do you mean, it was her doing?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mother…”
Before explaining, he apologized again and again. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
Out of habit, Brunhilde reached out and cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again and continued.
“The reason you went to the forest… was because of the note you received. The one saying I caused the miscarriage, wasn’t it?”
“…Why bring that up all of a sudden—”
“I should have told you sooner. But the truth is… Emily already knew about us. For quite some time.”
“…!”
Brunhilde’s eyes widened in shock.
Carlos looked up at her and went on.
“After she found out you were carrying my child… she must have worried that it would threaten the position of the child she would bear.”
“……”
“I should have handled it better…”
His head bowed in apparent remorse. The last traces of color drained from Brunhilde’s already pale face.
“…Do you still have the note you received?”
“I… I…”
“The handwriting—it was Emily’s, wasn’t it?”
“……”
It felt like thunder struck inside Brunhilde’s mind.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.