Acidity of Regret Ch 36
- Dec 30, 2025
- 7 min read
In a noble household, the atmosphere is a living thing, a reflection of the masters’ hearts. The servants of the Vinkart estate were no different; they were reeds bending to whatever storm blew from the main chambers.
When Vanessa had first arrived as a commoner and a sinner, they had busied themselves with venomous whispers. When she became the Grand Duchess and a doting bride, they had scurried in terror, fearful that a past slight might lead to their heads rolling.
Now, the air in the manor was a suffocating, leaden weight.
[Vanessa] "I want a divorce."
The servants, busy moving silverware with the precision of clockwork, all flinched at once. They kept their heads down, desperately trying to become part of the wallpaper.
A new maid, too young to know better, risked a glance at the head of the table. She didn't do it out of spite; the first time the Grand Duchess had uttered those words, the entire staff had nearly fainted from the shock.
Now, days later, the maid saw that the beautiful Vanessa Rohawk still looked like a ghost—pale, hollow, and hauntingly fragile.
[Declan] "Bring out the rest of the courses."
[Vanessa] "I want a divorce, Declan."
Declan acted as if his wife were speaking a dead language. His composure was so absolute that it made the servants’ skin crawl.
Vanessa didn't look at the feast being laid before her; her eyes remained locked on him, sharp as glass.
[Vanessa] "Declan. Look at me."
[Declan] "Eat your breakfast first."
A hollow, jagged laugh escaped Vanessa’s lips.
This was his game. For a week, he had swatted away her demands as if they were nothing more than annoying flies.
She remained motionless, her hands folded in her lap, refusing to touch a single morsel.
Declan let out a long, weary sigh as he sliced a piece of perfectly seared beef and placed it on her plate.
When she still didn't move, his voice dropped an octave, turning cold.
[Declan] "Do you wish for me to hang that knight’s corpse from the city gates?"
The threat hit home. She flinched, her entire body recoiling as if he’d struck her. With trembling hands and a heart full of venom, she finally forced herself to pick up her fork.
The dining room, usually a place of refinement, felt more like an executioner’s block.
One week.
Seven days had passed since Elliot’s blood had stained the stone and the truth had been flayed open.
Declan moved through the world with a shameless ease, as if the massacre had never happened. But Vanessa was drowning.
The man sitting across from her was the monster who had murdered her father. And when a knight had risked everything to bring her the truth, Declan had slaughtered him too.
The morning after Elliot’s death, Vanessa had marched into his office and demanded her freedom. Declan had chuckled, dismissing her as if she were a petulant child. Every time she pressed him, he used Elliot’s unburied body as a leash to pull her back in line.
How can you be so low? So vile?
She swallowed the words along with the tasteless meat. There was no point in saying them; his skin was thicker than any armor. He was an immovable shield, and she was a rusted, blunted spear.
Declan was no longer the man she loved. He was a stranger wearing a familiar face.
Suddenly, her stomach lurched. The rich scent of the meat turned her stomach. She forced down a glass of water to stifle the rising bile, then stood abruptly, leaving Declan alone at the table.
He didn't try to stop her.
Back in her bedroom, Vanessa caught sight of herself in the vanity mirror. She froze. The woman staring back was a ruin. The radiance she had briefly regained during their "honeymoon" period had vanished, replaced by a sallow, haunted complexion.
This room was no longer a sanctuary; it was a cell without bars.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blade fall on Elliot’s neck.
In the past, Declan had been her anchor, the man who chased away her nightmares. Now, he was the source of them.
The nights were the worst. She would wake up from a dream of blood only to find his arms wrapped around her, pinning her to him with a possessive strength. There was no escape; she had to flee back into the nightmares just to get away from his touch.
She had tried to run. But ever since that night, a phalanx of stone-faced knights guarded her door. She was a prisoner to his whims.
She had even missed the Crown Prince’s departure; Hayden had left the duchy while she was locked away, unable to even scream for help.
[Vanessa] "..."
She hated the mirror. She hated the woman inside it. Her temper, usually so controlled and elegant, was frayed to a single, jagged thread.
SMASH!
Vanessa blinked, her chest heaving. She had hurled a heavy crystal vase at the mirror.
The glass shattered, silver shards raining down onto the floor.
Seeing her reflection fractured into a thousand pieces brought a tiny, sick sense of relief. At least now, she wasn't the only broken thing in the room.
She took a step back and felt something soft beneath her heel. A red petal.
The vase had held the very flowers Declan had given her—a symbol of the love she had once cherished. Now, the petals were being ground into the dust beneath her feet, as torn and wretched as her own soul.
[Knight] "What happened?! Are you alright?!"
The guards burst into the room, alerted by the crash. The lead knight scanned the wreckage and, misinterpreting the scene, rushed toward her with a look of pure panic.
They pulled her away from the glass and forced her onto the bed, summoning the estate’s physician.
Vanessa hadn't even realized she was bleeding; a shard of glass was embedded in her foot, but the physical sting was nothing compared to the numbness in her chest.
[Butler] "Remove every dangerous object from this room. Immediately."
The butler, acting on Declan’s standing orders, spoke with a clipped, nervous authority.
Within minutes, every vase, every sharp tool, and even her vanity set had been cleared away.
[Vanessa] "I just didn't want to look at myself. I wasn't trying to kill myself."
[Butler] "Your Grace..."
[Vanessa] "And don't bother telling him. I don't want to hear his voice."
She didn't care if she sounded cold. Everyone in this house was an extension of Declan. They were all complicit.
The butler bowed and retreated, leaving her alone with the physician.
Vanessa stared out the window as the physician tended to her foot. The sky was a mocking, brilliant blue. The clouds were peaceful.
Why was the world so beautiful when her life was a scorched wasteland?
[Physician] "My Lady..."
The physician, who had been silent until now, spoke up.
[Physician] "Could you give me your arm for a moment?"
Vanessa obeyed mechanically. She watched as the doctor pressed her fingers against her wrist, her expression growing increasingly solemn.
It was a pulse reading—not for an injury, but for something else. A cold shiver traced its way down her spine.
The physician’s eyes widened, confirming a suspicion. Vanessa pulled her arm back as if she’d been burned.
[Physician] "It appears... You have conceived, My Lady."
The words felt like a death sentence. Vanessa sat frozen, the air in her lungs turning to lead.
[Physician] "My Lady?"
[Vanessa] "Conceived...?"
Her eyes snapped back into focus, and she began to shake her head violently.
[Vanessa] "No. No, that’s impossible."
[Physician] "My Lady, the pulse is unmistakable—"
[Vanessa] "You’re lying! It can’t be. Not now. Not like this!"
[Physician] "Please, don't stand up! Your foot!"
Vanessa bolted upright, ignoring the sharp spike of pain in her heel. She clutched her head, her mind spinning into a dark abyss.
Pregnant? A child? No, no, no.
[Vanessa] "He said... he said he was taking something! He promised!"
For the past week, Declan had claimed her body every single night, as if trying to force her into submission. She had fought at first, then gone limp, letting the hours of agony wash over her.
She remembered his voice from months ago, cold and certain.
'There will be no children between us.'
He had been so adamant about not having an heir.
How she wished he had kept that promise.
The child of the man who murdered my family.
The thought made her skin crawl with a visceral, oily disgust.
The man who killed her father and slaughtered Elliot.
His seed was growing inside her.
His blood was mingling with hers.
[Physician] "My Lady, stay calm!"
The physician reached out, trying to steady the frantic, hyperventilating woman.
The physician was a woman of science, but she wasn't blind to the toxicity of the Duke’s marriage. If she had been a Vinkart loyalist, she would have sprinted to Declan immediately. But she chose to speak to the mother first.
It was a decision she immediately began to regret as she watched Vanessa’s descent into pure panic.
Vanessa stared at the physician. This child was the fruit of a sin, a parasite planted by a murderer. God wasn't satisfied with taking her family; He wanted to trap her forever.
A chilling clarity settled over her.
[Vanessa] "Don't tell him."
[Physician] "Pardon?"
[Vanessa] "Do not tell Declan. Please. I'm begging you."
Her voice was a jagged rasp, dripping with desperation. Her eyes, red-rimmed from a week of mourning, began to overflow again.
[Physician] "I... I understand, My Lady. If you wish, I will remain silent. I won't say a word unless the Grand Duke asks me directly."
[Vanessa] "And... and..."
Vanessa looked at the physician with wide, wild eyes.
Sensing the dark direction of Vanessa's thoughts, the physician gripped her hands tightly.
[Physician] "This is the Vinkart heir, My Lady. You must not do anything rash. You mustn't harbor... dark thoughts."
The "consolation" felt like a threat. Vanessa’s heart sank.
She’s not on my side. No one is on my side.
She violently wrenched her hands away from the physician’s grasp.
Comments