This Life, I Will Save The Duke (20 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 71

A scoff escaped from Kaius’s lips as he faced the empty bed. Unconsciously tightening his grip, droplets dripped from the wet towel in his hand. He had held his wife without even taking the time to wash the blood off his body—intent on cleaning her instead, after she’d been so thoroughly soiled by him.

After staring briefly at the towel in his hand, Kaius tossed it onto the sofa and strode without hesitation toward his wife’s bedroom.

What greeted him first was the cold air, followed only by a few stray strands of hair scattered across the bed. She lay curled up beneath the covers, buried all the way to the top of her head. He didn’t need to lift the blanket to know—it was the same silhouette he’d just seen in his own bed moments earlier. Muttering a low curse, he stepped toward the fireplace. A droplet from his damp hair trailed down his jaw and fell with a soft plink onto the floor.

As warmth slowly returned, Kaius sat astride her bed. Her breathing was so silent it suddenly irritated him, and he yanked the blanket away roughly. Seeing his wife’s tear-streaked face, his eyes darkened immeasurably.

What am I to do with you? What on earth am I to do with you?

Kaius could neither abandon her nor forgive her.

Should he have taken her life, as his principles dictated? Or perhaps divorced her and kept her as a mistress to torment? After all, securing an heir was simple enough—he could always remarry some suitable noblewoman. Her Highness the Princess? Well, given what she’d done, she ought to be grateful just to have her life spared—and accept whatever terms he imposed without complaint.

Yet why did he discard every reasonable option and stubbornly insist on keeping this woman—who had deceived and humiliated him—by his side?

Was it out of consideration?

If she’d truly meant to be considerate, she shouldn’t have smiled so sweetly right in front of him. Calling his name over and over with those tiny lips, claiming every reckless act she committed in the palace was “for him.” And what of those soft hands massaging his neck to ease his headaches? The memory of himself sighing helplessly under her touch filled him with shame. Damn it all. His grip tightened on her dazzling silver hair. Ariel. His impudent woman. His unbearably beautiful wife.

‘You must do your best to keep me alive. As for me…’

‘I’ll do my very best to make you suffer.’

There was only one way to torment a woman who’d rather die than bear his child—and he believed without a doubt that this alone outranked any mere contract.

Outside the window, white snowflakes began drifting down one by one. It was an unusually snowy winter in Tris.

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