Chapter 6

My father was at his wit's end.

The heir was gone. He had countless illegitimate children, yet none he trusted enough to place in that position.

Every day, he'd sit in his study until late at night, chain-smoking cigars.

These past few days, he'd been holed up in his study.

Smoke slipped beneath the door from morning until night. The entire hallway smelled of cigars.

When I entered with a tray, he was sitting by the window, his back turned toward me.

"I'm not hungry right now. Get out," he said.

I didn't leave. I walked behind him, placed the tray on the desk, and gently rubbed his forehead. My thumb moved slowly in circles.

I whispered, "Father, you need to eat. You can't go on like this."

He hesitated for a moment, then stopped telling me to leave.

I moved my hand away and pushed the bowl toward him.

He picked up the spoon and ate every last bite.

Good.

"Simon is getting more and more arrogant," he said after setting down the spoon and wiping his mouth. His voice grew rough again. "I didn't care if a commoner got eaten, but this time, it was my son, and he wouldn't do a damn thing.

"Has he forgotten the treaty? When the vampire hunters were still around, they never would have dared to act like this. Damn it."

He clenched his fist and slammed it against the desk, shaking cigar ash off.

"So, are you still going to see Simon tomorrow?" I asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" He gritted his teeth. "I won't stop until he gives me an explanation."

*****

The next morning, my father left the house.

I stood behind the second-floor window and watched him climb into the carriage. The wheels rolled over the cobblestones, carrying him farther and farther away.

The sunlight was lovely this morning.

I stretched, leaning against the window frame, counting the hours in my head.

He left in the morning. By now, he should be coming back, lying down.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before the noise started downstairs. There were shouts, hurried footsteps, and my mother's crying.

I went downstairs and saw two servants carrying my father out of the carriage. He was limp, his head lolling to the side, arms hanging down, his features twisted.

I hurried over to help. "Mother, what happened?"

My mother was crying so hard that she could barely get the words out. "He... passed out... He... Simon..."

We rushed him to the hospital.

After a series of tests, the doctor took off his glasses and said, "Spinal cord injury. He's paralyzed from the neck down."

"Is there any chance he'll recover?" my mother asked.

"The odds are slim," the doctor replied.

My mother went limp and passed out in a hallway chair, overcome by tears.

I stood beside her and held her shoulders. I sighed, letting my eyes fill with tears. "It's Simon. It has to be him."

*****

I had the servants take my mother home while I stayed behind to take care of everything.

I handled my father's admission, spoke to the nurses, and confirmed the next treatment with the doctors.

I took care of everything without a hitch.

The ward was quiet, and only the light beside the bed was on. My father lay there, unable to move anything except his eyes.

I pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. Then I leaned toward him. "Father, if you can hear me, move your eyes to the right."

His eyes slowly turned to the right.

"Was it Simon?" I asked softly. "If it was, turn your eyes to the right. If not, turn them to the left."

His eyes shifted to the left.

"Oh." I raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't Simon, huh? Then who was it?"

I leaned forward a little, lowering my voice. "Father, think carefully. Do you know who did this to you? If you do, move your eyes to the right. If you don't, move them to the left."

His eyes moved left again.

"Just as I thought. You really don't know," I said, sitting up straight.

After a moment, I leaned close to his ear again. "Of course you don't know. It was me. Your daughter."

His eyes went wide in shock. His pupils shrank, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Those eyes that once held so much authority and arrogance now contained nothing but fear and disbelief.

He let out a raspy gasp, but couldn't say a word. He was stuck to the bed, unable to move. Only his eyes trembled violently.

I stayed close to his ear, my voice soft, as if I were talking about something irrelevant. "I was the one who put the drug in your food that night. It was something that would leave a person permanently paralyzed.

"Colorless, tasteless, and slow-acting. And afterward, the plates and leftovers—" I tilted my head. "I made sure to destroy everything. Not bad for being cautious, right?"

I sat up a bit, looking at him. "My poor father. All your reputation was ruined by me. You spent your whole life building this family, only to lose everything because of the daughter who always listened.

"If people ever found out, they would probably say I was simply too caring."

"Oh, right," I said as if it occurred to me. "Leon's death was my doing, too."

His eyes twitched hard again.

He went completely rigid on the bed. No sound came from him anymore. Only his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"A bastard thinks he can take what belongs to me." I tilted my head as I looked at him. "Who did he think he was? I can't believe someone as crude and worthless as him was allowed to breathe the same air as me.

"He should be grateful I let him live those extra years."

I leaned down again, bringing my face close to his. My voice dropped into a whisper. "You should be grateful, too. I didn't kill you, and that's why you have the chance to hear the truth from me.

"Aren't you happy? If you are, move your eyes."

He didn't move.

His eyes were frozen in place, like two glass marbles, and then slowly, he closed them.

His entire body went limp, and his breathing became shallow and rapid.

I straightened up and looked at his ghostly pale face. With a quiet sigh, I said, "You passed out? Are you really that fragile?"

I stood up, pushed the chair back into place, and casually adjusted the blanket over him. Then I walked to the door.

Before leaving, I glanced back at him lying helplessly on the bed. "Honestly, your mental strength is disappointing. You really need more practice."

I closed the door and walked out.

Three days after my father was paralyzed, I took possession of every key belonging to the Sterling family, including the office, the wine cellar, the stables, the estate, and the armory.

The heavy iron key ring swayed from my fingers, the keys clinking softly together like a delicate wind chime.

As I walked through the hallway, the servants lowered their heads. Instead of calling me Miss, they had begun calling me "Master of the House".