Conrad had an utterly frustrating meal, barely eating before heading to the ancestral hall instead.
Inside, aside from the long line of Brown family patriarchs, there were also the portraits of the deceased women of the family.
His gaze fell on a black-and-white photograph-her long hair elegantly pinned up, a lily tucked behind her ear. Her smile remained eternally gentle, her eyes filled with boundless tenderness.
Conrad had no real memory of her. From childhood to adulthood, his only connection to this place was kneeling here, being punished, whipped.
He could still hear Kenneth’s disgusted voice cursing at him, calling him a bringer of misfortune, a cursed bastard who doomed the entire family.
Conrad had long grown used to the beatings. He didn’t think much of them. Not until the day Kenneth picked up another boy around his age, affectionately patting his face while pointing at Conrad, who stood drenched in the rain, locked in a vicious fight with a pack of hunting dogs.
With a warmth he had never used on Conrad, Kenneth had said, “Osmond, from now on, this will be your home. Do you like it?”
“I do, Daddy! Who’s that?”
“Him? He’s a curse. A jinx that dooms his father, his mother-hell, the entire family.”
“Then why is he fighting with the dogs?”
“Because only dogs fight dogs! But you, Osmond, you’re a good boy, a young master-you’re nothing like him. Come, look at the new toys Daddy bought you. Do you like them?”
That was the moment Conrad realized-not every child grew up locked inside a house, whipped and starved.
Some kids actually got to go to school. They had toys placed in front of them every day. Their meals were clean, refined, and plentiful.
The servants whispered behind his back, saying he was probably an illegitimate bastard.
His mother’s name seemed to be taboo in this house.
Conrad didn’t care about any of that. He lived to take, to seize. That was how it worked in the dog pack-if you did nothing, you were at the bottom of the food chain.
He destroyed every single toy he could get his hands on. Then, when Kenneth wasn’t around, he pushed that little bastard into the river and watched him struggle.
Kenneth had nearly shot him for it.
It was only because his grandmother returned from the sanatorium that he survived.
Then, out of nowhere, an old man showed up, claiming to be his maternal grandfather, saying he was going to take him away.
Conrad had no idea what they had discussed.
But when his so-called maternal grandfather finally dragged him into the car, he caught sight of that little bastard Osmond hiding behind Kenneth, making faces at him.
At that moment, Conrad made a vow-one day, he would return.
He would make sure the entire Brown family carried his name.
And those gossipy fools? He’d tear out their tongues.
Through countless near-death experiences, he came back. He seized power, crushed opposition, and slowly chipped away at Kenneth’s influence.
Everything Kenneth failed to accomplish, Conrad achieved.
And everything Kenneth did accomplish? Conrad did it better-more ruthless, more absolute.
Kenneth’s greatest weakness was his insatiable lust. He had lots of women, and the children he brought home-not a single one came from the same mother.
One by one, Conrad wiped them out. Those branches of the family vanished without a trace.
In the end, Kenneth had only one heir, Osmond, left.
Conrad had planned to have ‘fun’ with Osmond, but Kenneth, terrified, smuggled Osmond overseas–Thinking that would be enough to put an end to it.
How naive!
It seemed Kenneth had been getting restless again, smuggling that guy back into the family estate.
Conrad placed the dewy flowers beneath her framed photo.
In his eyes, her features had become as distant as a fading memory.
“Rest assured, Kenneth’s bastard will never set foot in the Brown family.”
“What belongs to your son-I’ll fight for it myself.”
“I hope you’re eating and drinking well in heaven. If you ever get bored or lonely up there, go find a few men to have fun with.”
“I’m leaving.”
Conrad turned and walked away.
******
The bed creaked as a fair, delicate foot kicked against it. Lillian clung to his broad shoulders, her fingers digging in as she bit down on his firm muscle-half in pleasure, half in pain.
He thrust harder, then reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “Bite slower, unless you want to break your own teeth.”
Her wrists were tightly pinned under his large palm.
He teased her-sometimes fast, sometimes unbearably slow-holding back, just to watch her unravel for him.
“Why are you still awake this late?” He pulled back before thrusting again, harder this time. “Were you waiting for me?”
Lillian’s thoughts were hazy, the alcohol still lingering in her veins. She had no idea how much she’d had to drink, but after all this exertion, most of the alcohol had already evaporated with her sweat.
“The graduation exhibition is next week. I heard you invested in it? And that you’re-ah…”
Her words dissolved into a sharp cry, cutting through the night.
Juice splashed as he shifted, lifting her legs onto his shoulders. “Hmm? Keep going.”
Her mind blurred completely.
“Don’t do it because of me. I want to win fair and square.”
“Your name has been tied to mine for a long time. Talking about fairness now? That’s out of my hands.”
Everyone in City N knew what happened when Lillian clashed with Helen.
Now, with Helen abandoned in a hospital, unable to wake up, Peter hadn’t publicly announced a divorce, but he had taken their daughter and fled overseas in a hurry.
Helen had become nothing more than an unattended patient, left to rot, with only a handful of former fans occasionally donating to keep her hospital bills covered.
As for Lillian-she had become a name no one dared to speak.
Yet, even so, no one really believed she would be the one to stand beside Conrad in the end.
Hogan, Lionel, and the others-none of them dared to ask whether Conrad would eventually let Lillian go for the sake of a marriage alliance with the White family.
Everyone could feel the tension tightening like a stretched wire. The only question was when it would snap.
When it was finally over, they lay entangled, bare skin pressed against bare skin.
Conrad traced lazy circles along her back. “After you graduate, I’ll take you on a trip.”
Lillian closed her eyes, refusing to answer.
Lately, she’d been like this-silent when it mattered, yet still fiery in bed.
It reassured Conrad, at least a little. So much so that he put in extra effort, making sure she was satisfied first.
“After graduation, stay home for a month. I want to sleep with you day and night-”
Lillian yanked the blanket over herself. “Sleep.”
He let her be, not bothered by her attitude. Instead, he got up to clean them both.
She didn’t resist, letting him take care of it-as long as he didn’t try to sleep with her again.
But as Conrad wiped her down, his Adam’s apple bobbed. The soft flush on her skin was an unspoken temptation.
These days, every time this woman climaxed, she would start looking disgusted, making him hold back, afraid to go for another round in case she got upset again.
It was pathetic, and he knew it.
But what did it matter?
Whether she ignored him or threw tantrums, he still found her beautiful.
He spoke, more to himself than to her. “Lillian, I went to see my mother today.”
She didn’t respond.
“I don’t want to end up like her, spending my whole life waiting.”
Handing your heart to someone else-what a dangerous thing to do.
Better not to take that risk.
The weight inside his chest tightened, unnoticed.
The invisible shackles binding him to the woman in front of him had already locked in place, pulling tighter and tighter.
In the end, who would be the real victor?