BLOOD FOR BLOOD: The Return of Elior Crestfall

Chapter Three: Divorce the Criminal!

WHITMORE ESTATE

“Why are you so stubborn, Liliane? Take off that cursed ring before you poison our bloodline any further.”

Lady Virelle-Her stepmom’s voice cut through the silence like a blade

Liliane sat still, spine rigid, fingers unconsciously curled over the band on her ring finger. Her eyes burned, but her voice remained calm.

"No way, ma'am. I’ll die wearing this ring.”

Lord Whitmore slammed the arm of his chair. "Five years, Liliane. Five! And you still disgrace me like this?” He barked in anger as he shoved a set of papers across the table, it's the divorce papers Darian helped prepare.

“Sign it and marry Mr. Darian. He’s loyal and more than capable. And you know he’s been funding this family’s debts for half a decade.”

Liliane slowly rose to her feet. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she was holding herself together by force. "You can threaten me, starve me, strip me of everything, but I will never betray my husband. He loves me and I love him too”

Darian stood now, voice dripping with contempt. "What husband are you fucking talking about, Liliane? Elior was banished to the Eastern front five years ago. Not even warlords survived that place. He’s certainly long dead now.”

He gritted his teeth in frustration, then continued. “You waited 10 years before the wedding, and now you've waited another five years. Are you really planning to spend the rest of your life single, feeding yourself the lies that that lunatic criminal is still alive?!”

Liliane’s eyes lit with fire. Then SLAP—Her hand cracked across his cheek.

A shocked gasp spread across the room.

Lady Virelle sprang up from her seat. "You ungrateful brat!”

Liliane pointed a trembling finger at Darian, her voice shaking with rage.

"Don’t you ever dare call my husband a criminal, Mr. Darian.” Her eyes, booming with rage. “I know… you are the monster that framed him! I know he certainly did nothing and knew nothing about the poisoned wine.”

Darian’s face twitched, but he didn’t answer.

"You framed him for what he knew nothing about!” She said, louder now. “And I assure you that I would avenge him; I would make sure you grovel on the floor, begging for mercy at our feet.”

Virelle stepped forward with a forced smile, voice thin and oily. "Mr. Darian, please forgive her little tantrum. She’s the lord’s spoiled favorite, that’s why we don’t beat her. But rest assured, she’ll be put in her place soon enough.”

Lord Whitmore shot to his feet, face dark with fury.

Then—a deafening SLAP. His palm struck Liliane so hard her head hit the corner of a ceramic vase behind her. It shattered with a crash. Blood trickled from her forehead.

Liliane winced, staggering and swaying on her feet, one hand clutching her bleeding forehead as her vision briefly blurred.

“What an insolence! How dare you slap Mr. Darian?!” He roared, veins bulging at his temple. “Do you even realize he is now the legal heir to the Crestfall dynasty?!”

Virelle smirked faintly, arms folded. "Tsk. Just pitiful.” She muttered.

But then, Lord Whitmore’s next words came like a dagger to her chest. "You’re just a senseless animal... just like your good-for-nothing parents. It’s no wonder they died like dogs.”

Her breath caught, "Grandpa...?!” Her voice was barely above a whisper, broken and bleeding like the gash on her forehead.

She straightened herself, each word trembling but fierce.

"You dare insult my parents like that when you know they died in that sorrowful highway crash, returning home from your damn family banquet? You’ve lost your conscience grandpa. You don’t even fear retribution anymore.”

Her grandfather turned his back like she wasn’t worth arguing with.

"For the past five years,” Liliane continued, staggering slightly, “you’ve turned me into a prisoner in this house just because I refused to marry this devil in disguise.”

Her glare cut to Darian, who stood there, watching with something between pity and obsession in his eyes.

"You stripped me of all my titles and entitlements. You seized my dowry. You froze all my businesses. Your wife makes me clean your filth like a servant. What did I ever do to you people to deserve this kind of mistreatment?”

Lady Virelle sniffed from across the room, folding her arms with theatrical disdain.

Liliane’s knees almost buckled, and Darian stepped forward instinctively.

"Liliane, you're bleeding! Please, let me help you. Let's go to the hospital—”

She suddenly bent and snatched a jagged shard of ceramic from the broken vase.

"Come any closer and I swear to God, I’ll end my life right here.” She said as she pressed it against her throat.

Darian froze, eyes wide, "Liliane…!”

"I'd rather die by my own hand than let you touch me with those filthy hands of yours, monster.” Liliane continued, her voice cracking and shaking.

He took a step back, slowly raising both hands. Then his tone shifted, becoming more erratic and irrational

"You don’t get it, do you? I love you, Liliane. I’ve always loved you and I'm ready to give everything up for you. But you… you decided to choose that fool over me.” His fingers raked through his hairs in agitation.

"You know what? Even if I have to kill Elior a hundred times— Even if I have to kill you and myself, there's no way I'm letting someone else have you, you can never escape me.”

Liliane’s lips curled into a bitter, broken smile. "And even if you sliced off my arms, plucked out my eyes, and ripped out my heart, I would still never marry you.”

A moment of dead silence.

Then Lady Virelle stepped forward, her voice suddenly sweet, the kind of poison dipped in honey.

"Darling, listen to yourself. You're being unreasonable now.” She said, reaching out to pat Liliane’s back.

“We only want what’s best for you. We’re trying to save you from your ruins. Just sign the divorce papers, marry Mr. Darian, and make us proud.”

Her fingers lingered on Liliane’s back, then suddenly pinched her sharply where no one could see.

Liliane jolted in pain, her hand tightening around the shard. "Get your filthy claws off me!” She yelled as she shoved her away hard.

"I see now why God never gave you any child. He knew the kind of monster you’d raise,” she added angrily.

Lady Virelle reeled back as if struck by thunder, "What did you just say to me?!” Her voice screeched.

Before Liliane could brace, she SLAPPED her hard! The force of her palm snapped Liliane’s head to the side with a crack, blood spattering faintly from her already injured lip.

“You dare mock my childlessness? After all we've done for you, you ungrateful little witch!” Lady Virelle turned and stormed furiously toward the stairs, her heels echoing across the marble floor.

Behind her, Liliane slowly lifted her bloodied face, lips trembling. Her expression wasn’t only rage, it was cold defiance, simmering behind swollen eyes.

“You have never done a single thing for me, you hear?” She rasped loudly. “You’ve only taken. My dowry, my freedom, my dignity… All of it. And mark my words! You’ll pay for everything you've done to me.

Lord Whitmore gritted his teeth. “Since when did you become this stubborn, Liliane?” He growled.

“I also wonder how much Mr. Darian paid you to turn into this monster,” Liliane spat, voice hoarse.

Lord Whitmore’s eyes flared. "Keep running that mouth,” he hissed. “If you keep testing my patience like this… I might later just kill you myself.”

He stormed off without waiting for a reply, slamming the door so hard it rattled the walls.

Then a silence fell, just the drip… drip… drip of Liliane's blood hitting the marble.

Darian hesitated, then took a cautious step toward her. "Liliane, please—”

She raised one hand without looking. The gesture stopped him cold.

He breathed, then tried another shot. "You need to get to the hospital,” he murmured. “Your foot too… you’re bleeding badly.”

Still, no reply. Not even a blink. Finally, Darian sighed, frustration in his shoulders. "It’s okay. Have it your way.” he muttered as he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor like fading regrets.

Liliane stood motionless until the door clicked shut behind him. Then she slowly took a look of herself.

Blood had stained the hem of her dress, smearing across the pale ivory like spilled wine. Her heel had pressed into a sharp shard from the shattered vase; the pain had gone numb from everything else.

Her reflection in the mirror across the room startled her. Eyes swollen. Lip split. Hair matted to her face with sweat and blood.

She didn’t even look human anymore. And yet… her heart still beat with one thought: "I have to hold on. Just a little longer. My Elior would surely return!”

With effort, she staggered to the front door. The family cars gleamed silently in the garage. Then she remembered the warning from Lord Whitmore:

“Touch any of my cars again, and I’ll break your damn legs.”

Liliane stepped out into the cold night, her bare foot leaving a trail of crimson on the cobblestone driveway. She clutched her side with one hand, her forehead with the other. Every breath felt like swallowing glass.

The streets were mostly empty, but the few people who passed her…

"Mummy, why does that woman look like a zombie?” a little boy asked.

His mother pulled him close. "That’s not a zombie, my dear. That’s what happens when witches try to destroy people’s homes and fail. Come, don’t look at her.”

"Ew! Witches are gross, mom!”

The words stabbed harder than the pain in her foot. But she didn’t stop.

Then her vision started blurring, streetlights doubled, then tripled. The world tilted and spun. Her ears rang like sirens.

"Elior… where are you?” She whispered  to herself.

One more step. Then, her knees gave out and she collapsed onto the street, her body hitting the pavement with a dull, heartbreaking thud.