Countess Anabelle huffed, fiddling with the hairpin in her hand.
Ignoring Fabian’s entrance and refusing to speak to him was her way of showing her displeasure.
Even the oblivious Fabian would understand this much.
But to her surprise, instead of showering her with affection or nuzzling her, Fabian simply stood there, watching her.
‘He should be all over me the moment he walks in, not standing there with his mouth shut!’
Just as she was about to open her mouth, a heavy body suddenly crashed down on her.
“Kyaa!”
Countess Anabelle screamed, startled as she was instantly rolled onto the bed.
Was Fabian always this aggressive? He hadn’t been before. Or was the incense already taking effect?
In her confusion, she stared at the red hair that scattered before her eyes. Perhaps it was the soft glow of the incense, but Fabian’s hair seemed particularly redder than usual.
“Wait, stop! What are you doing?”
Hot breath brushed against her neck, and large hands groped at her clothes. Countess Anabelle frowned and firmly pushed the man away.
Today, she had intended to tease Fabian, not be pinned beneath him.
But Fabian, who would normally have recoiled and anxiously watched her reaction, didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he made a sound like a beast growling and pressed his body even harder against hers.
Something was wrong.
The moment she sensed that the weight pressing down on her was different from usual, Countess Anabelle, with a sense of foreboding, lifted her head to see the man’s face.
And she found familiar yet unfamiliar golden eyes. Similar to those of the old man she shared a bed with, but far more greedy and savage.
“Kya, aaaaaaack!”
Because she had never imagined encountering her nemesis on the bed, the Countess was silent for a long moment before finally screaming.
Even as she screamed, she couldn’t accept the situation. The Crown Prince, whom she despised so much, had broken into her hotel room and was now on top of her.
It shouldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be happening.
“Shut up, you’re noisy.”
But the assailant who forcefully covered her mouth was undoubtedly the Crown Prince. Aaron Fernandit de Jubnel, her nemesis whom she would one day kill, and the half-brother of her son. He was attacking her.
“Mmph! Kkeueup!!”
As Countess Anabelle twisted and struggled, Aaron irritably removed his hand from her mouth and pinned down her arms and legs.
His eyes were already unfocused. His head was spinning, his vision blurred, and only the instinct to possess the woman beneath him filled his mind.
He didn’t notice that his eyes, which should have been violet, were tinged with blue, or that the woman’s face was completely different from Ariella’s.
“You crazy, you crazy bastard…! Let go! Let go! I’ll tell His Majesty right now-!”
“Stay still!”
Only after he shouted loud enough to be heard downstairs, having entered without even closing the door, did Countess Anabelle realize that his eyes were completely gone.
For some reason, the Crown Prince had lost his mind, which meant that threatening him with the Emperor would have no effect on someone without reason.
At this rate, she would be helpless.
The Countess’s face turned white as she realized the reality. Instinctive fear and nausea washed over her simultaneously.
Perhaps she could use this as a means to bring down the Crown Prince.
But such strategies were forgotten in the face of the trembling fear that gripped her, and even if she had thought of it, the Countess would not have been able to endure this humiliation.
‘Please, please, someone…!’
At that moment, the hairpin caught the Countess Anabelle’s eye, who couldn’t even scream and whose lips, chin, arms, and legs were trembling. As if by fate.
The long, pointed hairpin lay not far away on the bed, seemingly dropped when Aaron had attacked her earlier. It was just within reach if she stretched out her arm.
“Hah, hah…”
Aaron seemed preoccupied with tearing through the layers of her dress, breathing heavily. Not missing the opportunity, the Countess slowly reached out her hand.
As she became docile, Aaron seemed satisfied and relaxed his grip.
“Good, stay still like that. Unless you want to get beaten like the old days.”
He recalled the sensation of hitting Ariella’s head. It had been years ago, but it was still vivid. The feeling of subduing a proud woman with force was far more exhilarating than he had imagined.
Since then, Aaron had dragged women he met at parties or high-class prostitutes into his bed, slapped them, choked them, and sometimes even kicked them more violently, but he never achieved the same pleasure as then.
No one was as elegant or aloof as Ariella.
Seeing the women crying, begging for mercy, and fainting only deepened his displeasure rather than satisfying his desires.
He wondered if it was because the situation was different, so he tried to find a woman who looked as similar to Ariella as possible and create a similar situation, but nothing changed.
After more than ten such women, Aaron gave up on finding the same pleasure from someone else.
But as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait.
The time had finally come to satisfy his long-held desires.
Aaron adjusted his uncomfortable position and sat up on her stomach, wanting to properly admire the woman who was finally his.
