My Bratty Wife
Chapter 204 - Two Hundred And Four

Chapter 204: Chapter Two Hundred And Four

Ryan leaned back slightly, mirroring Evan’s relaxed posture, but his eyes remained hard, watchful. A humorless smile touched his lips, cold as steel. "Oh, I know what I think, Evan," he replied, his voice dangerously soft. "I know you have a deep-seated problem with me. Always have since when we’re little lads. Fine. Take it out on me, cousin. We can settle our differences like men. But you leave my wife out of it. Completely."

The smug amusement vanished from Evan’s face as if wiped clean, replaced by a sudden, dark intensity. His relaxed posture stiffened. "I have a problem with you?" he repeated, his voice turning serious, laced with years of simmering resentment. "You dare sit there and say that? You thief! You and your father before you. You stole my birthright! You stole my duchy from me!"

Ryan sighed, a sound of weary frustration. He leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the desk, trying to penetrate Evan’s wall of bitterness with cold logic. "Do you still truly believe that old lie, Evan? After all these years?" he asked, his voice reasonable but firm. "Your father committed treason against the Crown. He plotted against the King himself. He sided with those in the council who wanted to impeach him. He was tried, found guilty, and justly stripped of his title and lands. The King, in his wisdom, then chose to bestow the title upon my father. It was the King’s decree, Evan, not theft. How is any of that my fault?"

Evan slammed his hand down on the desk, making the crystal glass jump. "It is your fault!" he spat, his face contorted with jealousy. "It’s always been your fault! You had everything I ever wanted! A mother who actually seemed to love her child, not just tolerate him! Do you know how it feels to know your mother never loved you and you are a constant reminder of her regret for marrying my father. I actually blame my father," He paused then looked at Ryan with loathing " He couldn’t control my mother, that’s why she put her hole in every single dick she sees and then she dies leaving me at such a young age." "Let’s not forget Byron," he sneered the name, likely referring to Ryan’s loyal half-brother, "your devoted bastard brother, following you around like a loyal hound. And CARLETON, RYAN,CARLETON. You had MY DUCHY, RYAN! The title, the lands, the power... it should have been MINE!"

A flicker of Ryan’s own long-buried pain surfaced. His voice rose, matching Evan’s intensity but fueled by a different kind of suffering. "My Duchy?" he shot back, gripping the edge of the desk. "Do you honestly think I ever wanted to be the Grand Duke? Do you have any idea what it was like? While you were off enjoying what passed for a normal childhood, I was being groomed, drilled, relentlessly shaped from the moment I could walk! My mother," his voice cracked almost imperceptibly, "the only one who ever shielded me, who showed me any warmth, died too young, leaving me entirely to the mercy of a father who treated me not as a son, but as nothing more than his heir! A vessel for the title! You call that having everything?"

Evan visibly relaxed back into his plush chair again, unmoved by Ryan’s outburst. He took a slow sip from his glass, his expression dismissive, almost bored. "Perhaps," he drawled condescendingly. "But at least you inherited a woman along with it all. A pure, untouched, smart woman."

Ryan’s hands clenched into fists on the desk. The casual, objectifying way Evan referred to Suzy, reducing her to just another possession that came with the title, stoked the embers of his protective fury back into a dangerous glow.

Evan saw the anger flare in Ryan’s eyes and his malicious smile returned, sensing he’d hit a nerve. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Ah, so you must have known," he purred, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "You must have known I touched her today. That delicate wrist... felt her tremble. Is that why you’re really here, Cousin? Because I dared to touch your precious Duchess?"

He didn’t wait for an answer, pressing on relentlessly. "Come now, Ryan. Let’s be honest. We both know you figured out about the assassin I sent. The clumsy fool you apparently dealt with quite permanently." He paused, letting the admission hang in the air. "So tell me, Ryan. What exactly did you come here to do to me?"

Evan’s smile widened into a taunting smirk. He tilted his head, pretending to ponder. "Did you perhaps come to cut off the hands I used to touch her lovely skin?" he mocked, his voice dripping with insinuation. "Or maybe... gorge out the eyes I used to admire her lips, her heaving chest, her eyes that holds no fear? Or," he leaned forward slightly, inhaling dramatically, "cut off my nose for daring to breathe in her sweet lavender scent?"

Each word was a deliberate, calculated stab, twisting the knife of Ryan’s protective rage. It was too much. The final, mocking reference to Suzy’s scent, confirming Evan’s earlier violation, snapped Ryan’s control.

"I like Cassandra,Ryan. Do you know why? Evan asked, his voice sounding like he was reminiscing about an event. "She fascinates me everytime. She reminds me of everything my mother was not and I’m sure going to enjoy breaking every bit of her resolve making me have absolute control over her wit, body and soul. My, won’t that be interesting?"

Ryan couldn’t take anymore of his stupid words. With a sudden, sharp movement, he shoved his chair back. He reached inside his coat and drew out a sleek, deadly-looking pistol. The metallic click as he stood echoed in the suddenly silent room. He raised the weapon with a steady hand, aiming it directly at Evan’s chest across the desk. His face was a mask of cold, dangerous fury. His hand already placed at the trigger.

"You bastard," Ryan ground out, his voice low and trembling with suppressed violence.