Duke Of Darkness

CHAPTER 7

The air felt heavy, like a dark cloak enveloping the entire Hurbret mansion. The moonlight shone dimly, casting faint shadows as Rafael walked briskly down the long corridor, his reflection flickering on the cold stone walls. Tension followed every step, tightening his chest. He stopped in front of Annette’s bedroom door, taking a deep breath before knocking firmly.

Without waiting for an answer, Rafael pushed open the door and entered. Annette stood by the window, her white silk nightgown catching the moon’s glow as it seeped through. Her slightly blonde black hair cascaded down her back, adding an elegance that had once left Rafael awestruck. But now, that image was replaced by something that pierced his heart—cold and unreachable.

“Why did you call me the gardener? Are you ashamed of having me as your husband?” Rafael asked outright. His dark, sharp eyes locked onto Annette’s. “I need an explanation, Annette. I am your husband!”

Annette turned slowly, her movements weighted, as if reluctant to bear whatever burden she carried. Her eyes met Rafael’s with a chill, her full lips curving into a look of impatience. “Yes, I am ashamed,” she said in a low voice laced with venom. “I realize it now. Why should a baron’s daughter marry a poor, rankless soldier like you?”

Rafael was stunned, his eyes widening momentarily before he regained control of his expression. “What did you say?”

“I’m ashamed, Rafael,” Annette continued, her steps striking the floor as she approached him. “And now I see why my father made you marry me. Perhaps it was his way of punishing me, forcing his daughter to suffer with a lowly soldier who has neither wealth nor a great name.”

Rafael’s chest pounded, but his face remained composed and calm. Only the slight trembling of his hands betrayed the storm of anger inside him. “You speak as if I asked for this marriage, Annette. You know I never wanted this for myself. This was to uphold your family’s honor, at the request of your father, whom I regarded as my own.”

Truth be told, if not for that promise, Rafael might have let his fury take over. The audacity of Annette’s words was enough to provoke any sword master. But he could not break his word. If Annette no longer needed him, he was prepared to leave.

Annette’s lips curled into a bitter smile before she let out a short, humorless laugh. “My family’s honor? Do you think marrying you brought honor? All you brought was burden, responsibility without results. Look at me now! Surrounded by whispers and pitying glances because everyone knows I’m married to a powerless soldier pretending to be a hero.”

Rafael stared at Annette, eyes filled with hurt. “I have done everything for this family. I protected Hurbret when everyone else aband—” His words were cut off by Annette’s response.

“What have you done, really? You only helped half as much as Uncle Frederick’s efforts!” Annette snapped.

“You’re wrong, I…” Rafael struggled to find the right words, still unwilling to reveal his secret identity to the Hurbret family. “I have sacrificed my pride, my life, even my own dignity to ensure your safety.”

“And I never asked you to do that!” Annette shouted. “Maybe I would have been better off marrying someone who could give me more than just safety and sacrifices I never wanted!”

The words hung in the air, stabbing like a twisted blade in Rafael’s chest. He took a step back, his breath coming in short gasps. Each of Annette’s words seemed to erase the sweet memories they once shared. Rafael clenched his hands into fists, maintaining his composure as he looked at her with an expression difficult to decipher.

“Then tell me, Annette,” Rafael said softly, almost whispering. “What do you really want from me? Am I so worthless to you, even after everything I’ve done?”

Annette remained silent, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Then, her cold eyes locked onto Rafael’s again. “I want freedom, Rafael. Freedom from a life that makes me feel trapped. You’re just a reminder of a promise I kept for someone who’s dead.”

Rafael felt his blood freeze. Annette’s words echoed in his head, making everything spin. But before he could respond, Annette suddenly clutched her stomach, her face turning pale. Rafael had noticed earlier that she didn’t seem well.

“Annette?” Rafael immediately moved closer, his large hand gently touching her arm, but she pulled away, her steps unsteady.

“Don’t touch me!” Annette tried to shout, but her voice faltered. The strength seemed to drain from her body as pain overtook her. Her eyes widened in panic as she reached for the wall to steady herself, but failed. Her body bent forward, then she dropped to her knees.

Ignoring her earlier protest, Rafael knelt down, his strong arms carefully supporting her slender frame. “You’re not well. I’m calling the physician,” he said, his voice shaking with an urgency he couldn’t hide.

“No… there’s no need….” Annette tried to stand, but an overwhelming nausea made her stagger and run toward the bathroom at the end of the room. Rafael followed quickly, his heart and mind consumed by the torturous worry of seeing her in pain.

When Annette emerged, she looked even paler than before. Her disheveled hair fell loosely, and sweat beaded her temples. Their eyes met, and for the first time, there was no anger in Annette’s eyes—only exhaustion and fear.

“Annette….” Rafael whispered, the emotion in his voice barely contained. But before he could say more, Annette raised her hand, signaling that she didn’t want to hear anything.

“Don’t… speak now, Rafael,” she said softly, her voice hoarse. Their gazes locked, but this time, the silence between them was more painful than any words they had spoken before.