True Love, Wrong Revenge

After we had subdued the chaos, my troubles at the Garcia estate seemed unending. The servants at Garcia Mansion cast me looks so filled with disdain that it made me want to ball my fists in frustration.

The challenges didn't stop there; my progress in the world of politics was riddled with obstacles. Despite my relentless efforts to climb the ranks, the king had now turned his attention to my marriage with Maria.

Maria's father, with a grim expression, was adamant about pushing through with our wedding plans.

As the wedding feast concluded and the guests departed, the atmosphere in the mansion underwent a dramatic transformation. The joyous celebrations gave way to an eerie silence, replaced by the haunting sounds of desperation and pleas for mercy.

Everyone in the estate, including Maria's father, met their end by my sword. After a night of drinking, I found Maria's father in the study and drove my blade through him, avenging my brother's death.

He said nothing as he lay there, just smiling at me with that eerie calm.

Later, drenched in blood and still wearing my wedding clothes, I stepped into the bridal chamber and threw my sword aside.

Maria tried to get up, her eyes red and full of fear as she saw me. Her body shook uncontrollably.

I strode forward to push her onto the bed, tearing off her collar with my right hand. The sound of the wedding dress breaking open

I grabbed Maria by the chin, my grip tightening as I stared her down. "Maria, if your father hadn't been so focused on his own ambition, switching sides to secure his position, my parents wouldn't have died. My brother, who should have been out there achieving great things, was cut down by your father's sword.

"Do you have any idea how much pain I went through? Why did you leave me to fend for myself in the Garcia Mansion?

"I've faced nothing but disdain from your family and constant roadblocks in the political world. Do you even realize how tough this has been?"

I took off my wedding dress and made love to her without waiting for her to react.

A tear slid down Maria's cheek, and I brushed it away with one hand, only to tighten my grip on her throat with the other. "Maria, I want you to see the fallout from your father's actions, even after he's gone. I've gotten my revenge, but I'm not letting you off easily. You need to feel the pain I've been through."

The heavy curtains on the canopy bed swayed all night long. Maria sobbed beneath me, her voice failing her—probably because the poison I'd slipped into her drink was kicking in. Her throat was raw, and no sound came out.

I thought of my own mother, who was so like hers, and how my father had always cherished her. My brother's concern for her had been genuine. How could she not understand the agony of losing loved ones?

Our families had been close for years, and the political drama wasn't as I had believed. Maria's father had shaken with fear as he delivered the final blow, and I had turned a blind eye to Maria's suffering as she held that sword. Her father's secretive burning of paper offerings after her death seemed so insincere to me.

The ache in my chest was unbearable, like a thousand ants crawling inside. I coughed, and blood dribbled from the corner of my mouth.