My Bratty Wife
Chapter 205 - Two Hundred And Five

Chapter 205: Chapter Two Hundred And Five

Faced with the unwavering barrel of Ryan’s pistol, Evan didn’t flinch. Instead, he slowly raised his hands, palms outward in a gesture of mock surrender. A cruel, harsh laugh escaped his lips, echoing slightly in the tense silence of the study.

"Well, well, Cousin," Evan taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "Why the hesitation? Having second thoughts?" He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Did she tell you not to do anything irrational before you left? Did your little Duchess order you to behave?" He scoffed, a dismissive, insulting sound. "Typical women. Always interfering. How could you allow a woman to control you like that, Ryan? To wrap you so completely around her little finger?"

His hands still held high, Evan took a deliberate step forward, then another. He didn’t stop until his chest lightly pressed against the cold muzzle of Ryan’s pistol. The metallic contact against his fine waistcoat seemed to thrill him. He clutched the muzzle and stared directly into Ryan’s furious eyes, his expression utterly defiant. "Go on then," he dared, his voice dropping to a low, provocative whisper. "Shoot me, Ryan. If you have the nerve."

The challenge, the proximity, the sheer audacity of the man... it all coalesced, and suddenly, the immediate tension of the study seemed to waver. The image of Evan’s sneering face blurred slightly, replaced by a vivid memory rushing unexpectedly to the forefront of Ryan’s mind...

* * *

(FLASHBACK: Earlier that day, Ryan’s study)

Suzy was settled on his lap, the immediate aftermath of his protective rage still simmering in the air between them. He had just vowed not to tolerate Evan hurting her. She had finished tending to his bandage, her touch gentle, her presence calming. As she prepared to stand, she paused, leaning close, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a bare, urgent whisper.

"Ryan, listen carefully," she had breathed, her usual lavender scent mingling with the faint metallic tang of the medical supplies. "When Evan cornered me earlier... in the hallway... I didn’t just react blindly. I endured his vile words, I ’took all those things’ he said, because I needed something." Her whisper was intense, demanding his full attention.

"He grabbed my glove," she continued, her voice barely audible. "And in that moment, when he was distracted, staring at my hand... I looked at his. Specifically, at the Blackwood signet ring he always wears." She paused, ensuring he understood the significance. "Ryan, it’s been altered. It’s subtle, very cleverly done, but I saw it clearly. Near the base of the main stone, the engraving... it’s not quite right. It’s been tampered with, filed perhaps, or slightly reshaped."

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her own wide and serious. "He’s arrogant, cruel, involved in something sordid, I have no doubt. He sent that man today. But the ring... that alteration suggests something else. It wasn’t the same ring I saw in my room that day. It wasn’t the ring that belonged to the murderer. I don’t think he’s the true mastermind, Ryan. Not the one behind the original attack, the one who sent Doris and the others to their grace, the murderer you’re really hunting." Her final words were rushed, urgent. "Go to him. Confront him if you must, but look at the ring. See it for yourself. You’ll know what I’m talking about."

* * *

(PRESENT: Evan’s study)

The memory faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Ryan staring into Evan’s challenging eyes, the cold steel of the pistol still pressed against his cousin’s chest. But now, Ryan’s gaze wasn’t focused solely on Evan’s face. Driven by Suzy’s remembered words, his eyes flickered downwards, instinctively seeking out Evan’s right hand, the one resting on the muzzle of his pistol. There, on his smallest finger, gleamed the heavy black color of the Blackwood family signet ring.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, focusing intently. And then he saw it. Just as Suzy had described. A tiny imperfection near the setting of the onyx stone, a slight flatness in the intricate carving of the family crest where there should have been a deeper curve. It was subtle, almost invisible unless one knew precisely what to look for. But it was undeniably there. The ring had been altered. Suzy was right. Evan, despite his provocations, his involvement with the hired knife, might not be the ultimate source of the danger. He realized his deductions were correct. Evan isn’t the murderer.

The certainty cooled Ryan’s immediate, murderous rage, replacing it with a colder, more calculating fury. He couldn’t kill Evan now, not when this new piece of the puzzle had emerged. Suzy’s intelligence, her bravery in gathering that information even while facing Evan’s disgusting advances... it demanded a different response.

Slowly, deliberately, Ryan lowered the pistol. The tension in the room shifted but didn’t disappear. Evan watched him, a flicker of confusion momentarily replacing the smug defiance in his eyes. Ryan smoothly uncocked the pistol and slid it back into the concealed holster inside his coat.

Then, before Evan could fully process the change, Ryan moved. Not with the pistol, but with his fist. He swung hard and fast, his knuckles connecting sharply with Evan’s left cheek – the very same spot Suzy’s palm had struck earlier that day.

The impact sent Evan staggering back, a cry of pain escaping him as he clutched his face. Ryan went further to step on Evan fingers, his boots making a crushing sound in the silent room.

He stood tall, breathing heavily, his eyes like chips of ice. "That," he said, his voice dangerously low and controlled, "is for laying your filthy hands on my wife." He took a step back, his expression utterly contemptuous. "Next time," he promised softly, "I will kill you."

Without another word, without waiting for Evan’s reaction, Ryan turned his back on his cousin and strode purposefully towards the study door.

Evan watched him go, lowering his hand from his cheek to reveal blood trickling from his nose and his fingers heavy to lift because of the pains. His eyes burned with a mixture of shocked pain and impotent fury.

Ryan pulled open the study door and stepped out into the hallway where Davis waited, impassive as ever. Ryan didn’t look back. He met his side’s questioning gaze with a flat, unreadable expression.

"Let’s go home," Ryan commanded quietly.

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