Victor stood abruptly, his movement so forceful that the wine table before him crashed to the ground, sending goblets and dishes scattering.
"Dante, Elysia is still here! Show some decency! If you want to cause trouble, take it elsewhere. Don’t disgrace yourself here!"
His fists clenched, and the veins on his neck throbbed with barely restrained anger.
I sneered internally. How ironic. I gestured calmly, my face betraying none of my turmoil.
"It doesn’t matter. If they want to enjoy themselves, let them. I don’t care."
Dante laughed mockingly, his hand sliding brazenly under Seraphina’s dress. "See? She doesn’t care. Why are you so worked up?"
Victor’s voice sharpened, a cold edge slicing through his words. "No! It’s immoral in public. Don’t dirty Elysia’s eyes!"
Dante’s smile faltered, irritation flickering across his face. He scooped Seraphina into his arms and strode toward the next room.
"Fine. Let’s move. We’ll have our fun elsewhere. You stay here and babysit your mute girl!"
Seraphina nestled against him, casting a look over her shoulder—a mix of derision and triumph—before disappearing into the adjoining room.
Victor sat down heavily, his expression distant. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice the wine spilling over the edge of my teacup.
I tapped his hand, my voice sharp in his mind as I gestured, I don’t drink. Have you forgotten?
Before he could respond, a high-pitched moan cut through the walls from the next room.
Victor’s face twisted with rage. In one swift motion, he grabbed the wine pot and hurled it to the ground, the shattering sound punctuating his fury.
"Elysia, it’s your birthday," he said, his tone softening into something almost pleading. "At least have a drink with me. Just one."
I shook my head vehemently, but he ignored my refusal. He poured the wine into my throat, heedless of my protests.
The fire spread instantly, searing my body. The pain and itchiness were unbearable, and I collapsed, unable to fight the effects of the alcohol.
Victor used my condition as an excuse to clear the room, forcing the guests to leave. Once alone, he stormed into the next room, throwing the door open with such force it rattled on its hinges.
Without hesitation, he knocked Dante unconscious with a single blow and dragged a stunned Seraphina into my room.
Victor pressed her against the door, his hand wrapping tightly around her neck. His voice was low, venomous. "I told you—don’t mess with my wife. Are you deaf?"
Seraphina’s lips curled into a defiant smile, her voice trembling with feigned innocence. "I just missed you, that’s all."
She tilted her head, her gaze challenging despite the grip on her throat. "I left, just as you wanted. But then Lord Vic brought me back. What’s the matter, Victor? Aren’t you afraid your beloved wife will feel heartbroken seeing me here?"
Victor’s gaze fell on the red mark adorning Seraphina’s chest, a mixture of irritation and jealousy flickering in his eyes.
"What is our esteemed Lord Vic doing?" Seraphina teased, her voice dripping with mockery. "Talking to me like this in front of your wife…"
She gasped suddenly, her words cut off as Victor tugged at her dress, exposing more of her slender frame.
Seraphina panted, her voice trembling with a mix of excitement and provocation. "Lord Vic, do you like this stone necklace on my neck? These stones—they’re your sweetheart’s tears. I didn’t expect them to be so bright and plump!"
Victor’s expression darkened, his voice low and dismissive. "It looks good. I’ll get you more next time."
I lay there, drunk and wracked by an allergic reaction. Though my body betrayed me, trembling and weak, my mind remained painfully clear. The sharp ache in my chest deepened as I clenched my fists.
My tears… my sorrow… used to please this sea monster.
Their laughter and chaos grew louder, rolling from the doorway to the wine table and then, unbearably, to my side.
"The ground is cold…" Seraphina whispered coquettishly.
"Delicate, aren’t you?" Victor sneered but reached for my cloak—a treasured garment he had painstakingly sewn with feathers gathered over millennia. This cloak had shielded me from the biting winds of the underworld and held the weight of ten thousand years of companionship.
Without hesitation, he spread the cloak beneath Seraphina, his movements devoid of the tenderness he once reserved for me.
Their entangled forms continued to shift, Seraphina’s moans and cries echoing louder and louder.
"Scream," Victor growled. "Scream as loud as you can. I love hearing you beg for mercy."
I stared at the scene, my heart breaking anew. When Victor was with me, he was always measured, restrained. Even on our wedding night, he had cherished me, his every touch careful and deliberate. This unbridled ferocity was something I had never seen before.
At last, they seemed to tire. Seraphina slumped against Victor’s chest, her voice soft and syrupy. "My body feels sticky and uncomfortable… May I borrow your wife’s handkerchief?"
Victor shoved her away, his tone as cold as ice. "With you? Are you even worthy?"
Seraphina pouted, her lips curling into a sulk. "Men are so heartless. You don’t even recognize people after picking up your pants. Fine, I’ll leave—I’m sure someone else will want me."
"You dare!" Victor snapped, his anger flaring again. Yet, instead of leaving her to fend for herself, he reached into my sleeve, pulling out my handkerchief. With a maddening tenderness, he began to clean Seraphina’s skin.
