Chapter 6: Blood and Belonging

Today, for some reason, Harrison insisted on drinking with me. For so many years, he rarely drank. Sure enough, when I heard Quinn’s name from his mouth, I knew everything. The two of us brothers were completely under the thumb of those two women. I couldn’t help but laugh.

I drank a lot, so when Ben handed me the novel the little one read today, I lost control. As soon as I touched her, I seemed bewitched. When the little one whimpered beneath me, I thought I would go mad. I couldn’t get enough.

I used to think the saying “since then, the king never attended court early” was just an old joke—how could bedroom matters make someone lose all reason? Now, I was trapped in it. Looking at the soft, delicate little one in my arms, I couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful in the world.

The little one didn’t resist me as much as before; at night, she would sneak over to hug me as I slept, waking me from countless nightmares. Because those little hands on my waist were like a lifeline pulling me from the abyss. I needed her more than I’d ever admit.

I often thought fate wasn’t too harsh to me. When it sent the little one to my side, perhaps it meant I was forgiven for all my darkness. The assistant D.A. who worked with me often said I was becoming more and more merciful lately, which was good for me, but not for the office. I just shrugged.

Hearing him say this, I glanced at my hands—these hands that at night would massage the little one. If they smelled too much of blood, she surely wouldn’t allow it. “As for the office, does it not all depend on me?” I withdrew my hand, looked at the assistant, thinking it best he handle the dirty work in the future. Some things weren’t worth bringing home.

As soon as I left the office, Ben said the little one had sneaked into my studio today. Supposedly to catch me in the act. I really didn’t know what was in her head, always insisting I liked Quinn. Sometimes I just let her think what she wanted.

She acted as if she’d seen it with her own eyes. What could she possibly find in my studio now? When I got home, I would have to punish her properly. Maybe she’d finally learn.

Looking at Ben, who followed me out, I raised my brows: “Today’s case is yours. Tomorrow I’m taking a day off, and I hope to hear good news from you after.” Harrison heard I was taking a day off and asked why. Of course I wouldn’t tell him I was going to punish the heartless little one.

He didn’t ask further, because the maid reported Quinn was sulking again. So the saying “once married, forget your brother” was true. I couldn’t help but smile.

I had intended to punish the little one, but ended up falling deeper and deeper myself. Once you’ve tasted the sweetness, you just want more. I was hooked, and I knew it.

Looking at the marks all over the little one’s body, my eyes felt hot. “Why did you secretly draw so many portraits of me?” the little one asked softly, her voice a bit nasal, making my heart melt. I brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Why else? I don’t know when it started, but every midnight, my mind was full of her image. Her laughter, her pouting, her tantrums…all were etched in my heart, and just thinking of them made my heart ache like ants eating it. I couldn’t shake it.

Only after drawing her first portrait, seeing her smiling face in the painting, running my fingers again and again over those peach-blossom cheeks, did I feel some relief. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” the little one’s voice was soft and tingling. I hesitated.

How could I not have told her? How could I not have? I crawled out of a pile of family betrayals, yearning to marry this little one, but she said she liked that brat Lucas Jennings. How could he be any better than me? So young and already a captain—how could he be clean?

Where do I fall short of him? If that brat cherished the little one, I could have protected both of them. But Lucas Jennings, that reckless brat, how could he, how dare he do such things to my little one?

Thinking of what Lucas did, a chill ran through me. I realized I had been too merciful to him. The little one threw herself into my arms, burying her head in my chest, and said words I would never forget in this life. I held her tight.

“I know you like black suits, know you like spicy food and not sweets, know you write with your right hand and paint with your left, know you like your coffee at seventy percent hot, know you practice fencing in the morning and box at dusk… Tell me, how could I like anyone else?”

I cupped her face, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her reddened eyes. I opened my mouth, but my voice was hoarse in my throat. I could barely get the words out.

“Emmy…” I never dared hope the little one would like me. I never thought she would like someone as cold and gloomy as me, as flawed as me, as bloodstained as me. I thought it would be enough if she didn’t dislike me. I could cherish her all my life. I wanted nothing more.

The little one was pregnant. When Dr. Morgan told me, my mind felt like it exploded. I just wanted to reward him, no matter how much. My little one was carrying my child; the whole Grant mansion should be rewarded. I felt like shouting it from the rooftops.

But later, I found the little one was getting thinner. I had never heard of a woman losing weight after becoming pregnant. “Mrs. Grant has morning sickness every day, hardly eats, and vomits whatever she does eat.” Lucy Yi told me this, and I was angry at the child. I couldn’t help it.

Not even born yet, already tormenting the little one. What trouble would it cause after birth? The little one grew thin, so the whole mansion would be punished until she gained weight again. I was relentless.

The day the child was born, I heard the little one’s cries, louder than ever, echoing through the whole house, as if a hand was twisting my heart into eight pieces. I would never let the little one have another child. Not if I could help it.

She gave me a son, and I was satisfied. But she wasn’t; she thought I preferred boys over girls. How could I prefer boys? I just feared that if she had a little girl like herself, I would raise her delicately, only for her to be tricked away by some brat one day.

Better to have a son and let him trick someone else’s little girl in the future. But this idea only lasted until Jamie Grant turned two. After that, I thought the little one should have a little girl. I wanted more of her in the world.