I stared blankly at the woman before me, her words a jumbled mess, yet she had confessed something I desperately wanted to hear.

"You took my hand away," I repeated her words, my voice carrying a mix of disbelief and realization. "You made me the cripple I am today. You are responsible for it all," I echoed her words, needing to confirm that I had heard her correctly amidst the weight of her emotions and the haze of wine.

Isolde nodded in response, tears tracing down her cheeks.

Dropping the fork onto the plate, I fell back into my seat, seemingly overwhelmed by the revelation I had just received out of nowhere. She had put me in this misery. She had destroyed my life. Just those thoughts alone were enough to send my anger through the roof.

But logic had to prevail. I had to establish a reasoning before taking action. Why would Isolde hurt Arwan? She had fought for his well-being, vowed to stand by him through tough times, kissed him in front of his mother, called herself his wife. All of that couldn't possibly be a display of love and care for a man she was actively trying to kill.

It didn't make any sense.

Either she was a very caring woman mumbling nonsense under the influence and stress, or what I had seen of her over the past few days was nothing but a lie, making her the very best method actor walking on this land.

Which one was it though? I was unsure.

In a position like this, I had two choices: either go the slow, tactful way and figure things out layer by layer, or jump the gun by threatening her. However, I couldn't choose the latter as I held no power over her nor any weaknesses, leaving only one option.

"Isolde!" I called, my voice firm, gradually folding my legs and resting my hands over them.

After a short delay, she raised her head. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes brimming with tears, carrying a saddened look in them. This sight alone was enough for me to reconsider my approach, and I forced myself to be softer than usual. I meant I couldn't just start slinging accusations without any evidence.

But before I could say anything, Isolde slammed her hand onto the table, startling me. She pushed her chair back, and suddenly stood up, the motion alone enough to throw her off balance.

I became instinctively alert, silently searching for the cane that lay a few feet away. If she tried to attack me, I would defend, but thankfully nothing of that sort happened. The imbalanced woman walked toward me, wiping her tears as she stood, locking eyes with me.

I observed her closely, searching for any insight into this sudden change. Yet, her face revealed nothing. She appeared intoxicated, yet retained a measure of control.

Gradually, Isolde leaned forward, her finger tracing down my jawline, piquing my curiosity with her seductive actions. What was her real intention? I mused, as she pressed her forehead against mine, the sharp scent of wine palpable between us.

I waited silently, allowing her to exert her influence over me might be beneficial, a tool I could employ to unravel the enigma surrounding her.

"Mhm…" She tried to settle onto my lap, and as I stretched out my legs, she positioned herself, her hands wrapping around my neck. Our gazes locked once more, and she offered a smile that seemed almost pained, her eyes still shimmering with tears.

I wrapped my hands around her waist as she pulled me closer, a practiced ease in her movements, as if she had done this countless times before. Her lips met mine with an unexpected assurance, leading the kiss in a way that left me pleasantly surprised.

The kiss held a rhythm that suggested an intimacy born from repetition—a subtle tilt of her head, a gentle pressure of her lips against mine, a synchrony of breath that hinted at a history woven between. Her lips were soft and supple, inviting, and as they brushed against mine, I could taste the bittersweet wine.

Her hand found its way to the nape of my neck, her fingers trailing a path that sent shivers down my spine. My heart raced as the kiss deepened, a wordless invitation to reciprocate the same eagerness she was offering. It was a surprise I hadn't anticipated, her actions leading me through the world of desires that I had suppressed for so long.

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Our lips eventually parted, leaving a subtle smile lingering on her lips, her eyes retaining a hint of glistening tears. She leaned in once more, not for another kiss, but to press the tip of her nose against mine.

"Did you really think I would harm you?" Her whispered words held a soothing melody, washing over me like a gentle wave, threatening to smother the raging anger within me.

“No…” I answered subconsciously, her touch enchanting me until my reason returned. “Not really,” I clarified, gathering my thoughts. “I never believed you would cause me harm.” I played along, a note of intrigue lacing my words. "But then, why say it?" I asked, retracting my able hand, and gently wiping away the tear that clung to the edge of her eye.

As my palm brushed against her cheek, she closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as I traced the contours of her soft skin. “To protect you…” she mumbled softly, her words carrying a weight of sincerity. “… by carrying the blame myself.”

“Why would someone blame you…” I caressed her chin, my touch gentle as I studied the mixture of emotions playing across her face. “… For something you haven’t done?”

"But I have done it, my love." Her eyes snapped open, their intensity catching me off guard. "I have caused you so much harm…" She trailed off, drawing nearer until her forehead rested against mine, our warm breaths mingling within. "... My family has caused you so much harm, that I must bear the blame."

Where was she leading me to? I wondered. First her, and now her family.

“What have they done?” I inquired, trying to sound as genuinely concerned as possible. “I won’t allow you to shoulder the blame for something unjust. I cannot let that happen.”

“But it is just… It is something you cannot forgive.” She replied, her tone soft yet uncertain. “I know it.”

“At least tell me.” I pressed, my expression reflecting worry. “It may not be as bad as you think.” Despite the growing trace of annoyance, I decided to keep up with the flowery tale, maintaining the delicate tension.

"My… Father… lately he has been in the company of some very, very bad people." Isolde rested her head on my shoulder. "They are always around him, whispering things in his ears," she said while doing the same thing in my ears.

Her uneven breaths tickled my ears, yet I listened, maintaining my composure.

"Little by little they got into his head… wrapped him around their fingers… and one day asked him to harm you…" her voice trailed off, now replaced with sobbing. "He didn't want to… but they persuaded him to do it. When I learned of their plan, I did my best to stop him, but they locked me away. I couldn't stop them… Stop my own father."

My brows twitched, a resurgence of anger igniting within me. So, it was her father's associates that had attacked me. The tangled family dynamic finally made sense. Yet, something didn't quite fit. A father targeting his son-in-law wasn't unprecedented. But why would these "bad people" take the initiative? What did they stand to gain from Arwan's injury or demise? Just who were “they”?

Perhaps the creditors! It all clicked into place. They aimed to hurt Arwan, to send a message to the Willards, warning them to repay their debts, lest graver consequences follow. Isolde's father was a pawn in their game, a pawn that bore his own grievances, which they exploited with finesse.

The attackers mentioned a sorrowful lady, and the present Isolde fit the description perfectly. There was no doubt now. Both the creditors and the Marquess were orchestrating their respective warnings, while simultaneously maiming me for life.

Oh, you sly bastards. Fury surged through me, my teeth gritted and fists clenched. They would pay for their treachery, whatever the cost.

Sensing my reaction, Isolde nestled closer, and I gently stroked her head. "You don't have to worry," I said, my voice determined. "You didn't cause me harm. Those who did will have their share. I guarantee.”

"But… promise me you won't tell anyone," she implored, slowly drawing away, concern etched across her face. "If my father discovers that I've revealed this to you, he'll punish me severely. He might even dissolve our marriage." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I couldn't bear that. I'd rather die than be separated from you."

Despite the anger simmering within me, her words elicited a chuckle. It seemed she genuinely cared for Arwan, and I was grateful for that, relieved that someone held affection for that fool. How he managed to charm such a woman was beyond me though.

"I promise," I assured her with a smile. "I won't let him hurt you."

"But… But he'll send someone to take me away," she clung to the collar of my shirt.

"No one will take you away, I swear," I asserted firmly, locking eyes with her. "You said you're my wife, and a wife stays by her husband's side, no matter what. That's the rule."

Isolde's vulnerability was her father, and her father's weakness was her. This made her the perfect leverage for me to exploit. As long as I held her, the Marquess would hesitate to make rash moves, just as the creditors would be restrained by the Marquess' influence. She was invaluable!

Her face brightened at my words. She let out a sigh of relief, resting her head against mine. “This is why I love you,” she murmured, placing a kiss on my forehead.

“I know.” I leaned back slightly, capturing her lips with mine, conveying the same emotions whether genuine or feigned. At this moment, it hardly mattered.