Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 100 - Hundred

Chapter 100: Chapter Hundred

She looked at her wrist, hidden beneath the covers, and then replied, her back still turned to him. "Being normal," she said, her voice a quiet, sad murmur, "is the hardest thing in the world to do."

The rain continued to drum against the roof of the small island room, a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to match the slow, heavy pounding of Delia’s own heart.

Eric’s voice was soft, careful, as if he were speaking to a frightened bird. "What do you mean by that?"

"I have never lived a truly happy day in my life," Delia replied, the words a simple, devastating confession to the darkness. "And I feel like I never will. Because even if I find a moment of happiness, I don’t know how long it will last. Nothing good ever lasts for me."

"Delia," Eric called her name, a soft plea for her to turn around, to face him.

But his gentleness was too much to bear. It felt more dangerous than any of Augusta’s cruel words. With a sudden, angry movement, she got up from the bed. "I can’t sleep if you keep talking to me," she said, her voice sharp with a frustration that was directed more at herself than at him.

She grabbed her pillow and blanket. "I will just sleep on the floor."

As she made a move to get down from the bed, to create that familiar, safe distance between them, Eric’s hand shot out and held her wrist, his grip gentle but firm. He pulled her down so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, close to him.

She tried to yank her hand free, her first instinct always being to run, to hide. "Let me go," she said, though her voice lacked any real conviction. It was of no use. His grip was too strong, too steady. " I said let me go."

"Be honest with me, Delia," Eric replied, his voice a low, serious murmur. "Don’t you trust me? After everything, do you still think my feelings for you aren’t real?"

"Yes," she replied, the honest answer surprising even herself. "I don’t trust you." She finally turned to look at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears in the dim candlelight. "But it’s not just you, Eric. I don’t trust anyone. Whenever I put my trust in something, or someone, I always end up being wrong. I always end up getting hurt."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his own expression now full of a deep, searching concern.

Delia took a shaky breath. His final promise on the beach—that what truly hurt him was her pushing him away—echoed in her mind. He deserved to know. He deserved at least a part of the truth.

"I..." she started, her voice catching for a few seconds. "I am the real heiress of the Ellington family." The words, spoken aloud for the first time, sounded both strange and powerful. "A few days ago, when Augusta barged into my grandfather’s room, I was hiding in the wardrobe. I heard them talking. She knew everything from the very start. And my grandfather... he knew too."

She looked at him, her eyes full of a fresh, raw betrayal. "I loved and trusted him, Eric. He was the second person in that family after my father who was ever kind to me. And he kept such an important piece of information, the truth of my entire life, away from me." Her voice cracked. "From the way they were talking, it sounded like they know what really happened to my mother, too. But that’s all I got to hear before Augusta started making threats." She paused, her expression hardening with resolve. "When I go back, I am going to look into it. I am going to find out everything."

Eric’s expression was one of profound empathy. "It must have been so incredibly hard for you," he said softly.

Delia let out a fake, brittle smile and nodded, trying to maintain her composure, to be the strong, calculating woman she needed to be. But her emotions could no longer keep up with the pretense. A choked sob escaped her lips.

Eric took her hand, his touch a warm, steady anchor in her storm. "Don’t hold back," he told her, his voice a gentle command. "I told you before. You can cry. It’s safe with me."

That was all it took. The dam she had so carefully constructed around her heart finally broke. Delia started crying, not the quiet, heartbreaking sobs from the other night, but a full, unrestrained weeping. She cried for the mother she had lost twice: once in death, and once in a lifetime of lies.

Eric allowed her to cry for a long moment, his own heart aching in sympathy with her pain. He didn’t offer empty words or false comfort. He just sat there, a silent, patient guardian, letting her release the burdens of her heart. When her sobs began to quiet down, he spoke again.

"At least with me," he began, his voice full of a deep, unwavering sincerity, "I want you to feel at ease. I will keep reminding you, every single day if I have to, that whatever it is you are trying to do, whatever revenge you are trying to accomplish... I will always be by your side." He looked into her tear-filled eyes, his own gaze intense and absolute. "Even after death."

He reached up with his free hand, his thumb gently wiping the tears from her cheek. "So..." he started to say, intending to offer more words of comfort.

But he couldn’t finish. In a single, decisive movement, Delia leaned forward, and with a soft, desperate sigh, she kissed him. It was not a calculated move. It was not part of any contract. It was a spontaneous, overwhelming expression of gratitude, of a dawning trust, and of a feeling she was too afraid to name. It was the first kiss she had ever truly given, and she was giving it to him.