Nathaniel turned his face away, trying to hide the conflicted storm in his eyes.
Dorothy's smile lingered on her lips, but something about his expression made her uneasy.
"This is my first step of revenge, brother," he thought bitterly. "I can't believe I got her to say yes so easily. She's going to pay. For everything."
But even as the words echoed in his mind, her voice brought him back.
"Nathaniel, you just asked me to marry you—and I said yes. And now you look like… You hate that I did. Did you not expect me to say yes?"
He blinked, surprised by her directness. She was observant—too observant.
"No, it's not that," he lied quickly, forcing a small smile. "I just didn't expect it to be this easy."
"It's not easy," Dorothy said gently. "I've never felt this way before. It's strange, but it feels… right. Of course, we won't get married immediately. I'll need time—for preparations, and for my uncle and Theo to know you better."
"That time—is it really for them? Or are you unsure about me?" Nathaniel asked sharply.
"No, it's not like that," she said, startled. "They're my family. Theo especially. We grew up together. He's always been there for me."
Nathaniel studied her carefully. His voice dropped lower.
"Do you love him that much?"
"Yes… but like a brother," she answered, frowning. "Why do you ask with such a serious look?"
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense.
"Because… he watches you like a man, not a cousin. And you—you're not blood, are you?"
She hesitated, surprised again. She had never told anyone else that detail so casually.
"No… we're not related by blood. Our parents died in the same accident. Mr. Josh and Mrs. Sarah took us in. We were raised as cousins, but… we're not. I still love him like a brother."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "So that's the truth? And yet, they whisper Denmark's name beside yours, not Theo… why?"
Out loud, he said nothing. "What are you thinking?" Dorothy asked softly.
He gave a short chuckle, masking the fire underneath. "That you're more complicated than you look. And more dangerous."
"Dangerous?" she repeated, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Dorothy, you're beautiful," he said, standing up. "You drive men crazy without even knowing it. I just hope… I can keep up."
Her expression softened. She stood too, placing a hand gently on his chest.
"You scare me sometimes, Nathaniel," she whispered. "It's like I see glimpses of something… I don't understand."
He took her hand and kissed it.
"Don't worry. Whatever you see—it's just a man learning how to love again."
But inside, his heart waged war.
Was she truly guilty? Or had he already fallen for the wrong woman… again?
Later that night, Nathaniel sat alone in his apartment, the city lights flickering outside the wide window. A glass of untouched whiskey sat in his hand, but it wasn't the drink he needed—it was clarity.
His thoughts were a whirlwind. Dorothy's laughter. Her kiss. Her eyes were full of trust.
Her smile when she said yes.
He closed his eyes.
And then, like a cruel shadow, his brother's lifeless face came to him.
His jaw clenched. The pain stabbed at his chest the same way it had the day he found out—his brother, dead. The betrayal. The unanswered questions. The rumors…
Dorothy Basiliou
The name had been whispered like poison through the corridors of his memory, tied to Denmark's downfall. She was the one… the woman everyone hinted at but no one dared accuse. He had come here with a plan. A mission. To infiltrate, to get close to her, to make her pay. And instead…
He had fallen for her.
"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself.
He stood, walking to the desk where an old leather notebook lay open—his brother's journal.
He flipped to the final entry, one he had read a thousand times:
"She promised to meet me tonight. Maybe this time, she won't lie. Maybe I'll finally know where I stand. If not… I don't know if I can keep living like this."
The handwriting trembled at the end. Nathaniel clenched the pages in his fists.
That entry had haunted him. Had pushed him to dig deeper. Had led him to Dorothy.
Yet now, nothing made sense.
How could someone who smiled so sincerely, who blushed like a girl in love, who cared for flowers and kissed like she meant it—
How could that same woman destroy his brother?
Unless…
Unless he was wrong.
But how could he be wrong?
Was it Dorinda?
Was it someone else?
"Damn it," Nathaniel whispered, pacing the room. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
He was supposed to charm her, gain her trust, uncover the truth—and then break her the way she broke Denmark.
He wasn't supposed to fall for her laugh. Or her stubborn heart. Or the way she looked at him like he mattered more than the world.
But now, she was in too deep—and so was he.
He stared at his reflection in the window, hollow-eyed and restless.
"If she's innocent," he whispered, "then I'm the one destroying her." He slammed the notebook shut and exhaled shakily. The mission had just changed. Now, he didn't know if he was seeking revenge… or forgiveness.