BLOOD FOR BLOOD: The Return of Elior Crestfall

Chapter Five: I can now remember!

TWO WEEKS LATER

“If you don’t sign that divorce paper within a month, I’ll kill that lunatic myself, I promise.”

Darian’s voice still echoed in Liliane’s mind like a loaded gun. It was the threat she received two days ago, and she knew better than to take it lightly.

She knew how evil Darian can be when he's obsessed. All this started when he framed Elior five years ago, after all.

She turned her gaze to Elior, lying shirtless on the bed, eyes glued to the phone she bought him, playing a video game. He looked peaceful and naive.

But Liliane knew better—He’s not safe. Not with Darian counting days. She started pacing the room, heart pounding in her chest.

“What should I do? What should I do?” she kept whispering over and over, like a mantra battling madness as she thought of tricks and possible outcomes, panic building.

Then she stopped mid-step, a wild idea struck. “Yes... If I can manage to get pregnant before the month ends, Darian won’t be able to bring up some ridiculous divorce again,” she muttered. “A child changes everything. That would tie me to Elior permanently.”

Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed, stripping off her top and miniskirt. Her fingers traced Elior’s bare chest slowly and gently—then moved lower.

As she reached for his boxer, Elior suddenly grabbed her hand rigidly.

“Li...liane?” he murmured, confused.

She smiled softly. “Yes, baby. It’s me. It’s Liliane.”

He loosened his grip, and she pulled his shorts down, baring him fully. She slipped out of her last clothing and mounted on him. Then she started riding him, moaning out loudly in pleasure.

Then—RRRRIIINNNGGG!!! The shrill scream of her phone shattered the moment.

“Damn it!” she hissed, reluctantly dismounting, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. The screen lit up: Lady Virelle

She rolled her eyes and answered furiously, breathless. "What do you want from me again, this woman?”

The voice on the other end was also sharp and cold. “How dare you insult Lord Whitmore like this? Everyone is here at his birthday banquet to honor him. You are the only disgraceful one missing.”

Liliane froze, then pressed her palm to her forehead. “Wh.. today’s his birthday?”

“What?!” Lady Virelle shrieked through the phone. “You dare forget his birthday? Your rudeness is unbelievably out of control since you rented your private apartment! Well, Lord Whitmore just commanded me to warn you, if you’re not here at the manor in thirty minutes, you will face the consequences!”

Liliane’s lips parted, but no words came. Her jaw clenched as her fingers dug through her scalp in frustration.

“Fuck... fuck... fuck!” she hissed, pacing in tight circles like a lioness in a cage.

“What?! Did you just swear at me? you this disgrace—”

Liliane ended the call abruptly with a sigh and tossed the phone onto the bed like it was poison.

She turned and stared blankly at the floor, then hissed. “If I don’t go now, that old monster will use the opportunity to steal even more from me… that's how he chased me away from the mansion I inherited from my dad two weeks ago, saying I had lost my mind for bringing in a madman.” 

Her voice dropped cold, staring at the phone. “He always does this when those greedy eyes of his cling to a new business opportunity. Always thinking about money and profit, nothing else.”

She glanced at Elior—still lying on the bed, head tilted, eyes blank but calm. Her expression softened. She knelt beside him and placed a soft kiss on his bare chest.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be back soon, okay? Your nasty father-in-law would start barking if I don't go now” she whispered, pulling up his boxer short gently. “Don’t miss me too much.”

In less than ten minutes, she was dressed and out of the room, hair still damp, face still flushed. “I love you, baby!” she called as she rushed through the door and slammed it shut. 

Elior blinked, then sat up slowly, eyes trailing the path Liliane just took. “Li…liane?” he mumbled, raising a hand as if he wanted to call her back.

His head suddenly sparked. A breath hitched in his throat. “Liliane…” he said again, clearer this time.

Then suddenly, he jerked upright, like lightning shot through his spine. His hands flew to his head. “Ah—!” he groaned, collapsing to his knees as a severe headache tore through his skull.

Then the memories started crashing in like a tsunami—

From the tender days before his wedding… to the gut-wrenching betrayal that shattered his life at the altar… to the brutal, soul-breaking years in the blood-soaked Eastern front.

And then, a sharp memory suddenly struck him like a knife slicing through the fog. So sharp, so vivid, it made him gasp aloud—

After three years of war, he had risen—not just as a soldier, but as a legend. In secret, he had built the largest personal army the world had never seen. He became the Supreme Commander, the enemy armies whispered his name in fear. He founded the most lucrative business empires in silence—Virelux, GoldenEra, and many others—spanning across continents, swallowing competitors like storms.

Then… he remembered the betrayal.

A Crestfall soldier had come to the east, claiming to bear a secret message from the Patriarch. But instead of words, he left a poison needle in Elior’s neck and fled like a coward into the night.

His toxin specialist had warned him: the only cure was an immediate intimacy, or he may die or rather lose his sanity.

But Elior, even on the brink, refused. He would only give himself to one woman and that is Liliane. No matter the cost. Even as his loyal men begged, he turned away from them, choosing exile over compromise.

And now… here he was. After two years of madness, roaming the world like a ghost, feeding off scraps, reduced to a whisper of who he was—he has finally returned to her. And she… she has given herself to him.

Well, maybe… it was worth it after all.

His gaze swept across the modest room. The faded curtains, the scent of soap, the softness of the pillow she placed under his head every night.

He clenched his fists, sentiment burning in his chest. “Thank you, Liliane,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You never failed me. You never gave up.”

Then came the darker memories—Lord Whitmore’s cruel commands, Lady Virelle’s venomous tongue, and worst of all… Darian—the man who had taken everything from him and now dared to threaten Liliane too?

Elior rose to his feet, eyes cold as steel, a storm raging behind them. “They will all regret this,” he growled. “Every last one of them.”

He walked to the nightstand, grabbed the phone he once used for mindless games… and dialed a number.

A quiet beep. Then a deep, respectful voice answered. “Commander!… is that truly you?”

Elior’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “Yes, Marcus. Activate the Crestfall investment protocol. It’s time.”