《In This Life, I Will Not Love You Anymore》 1- Apate Screamed In Pain The Duke Loves Me Apate screamed in pain as Maximilian¡¯s sword pierced her body. He swiftly pulled the sword out, as if to exert maximum pain on Apate¡¯s dying body and Apate began panting at the sight of the glistening maroon blood coating the sword along its length. ¡®Theo¡­Theo, how could you? Theo¡­I loved¡­I loved you.¡¯, Apate managed to throw out these words but this did nothing to displace the sheer contempt in Theodore¡¯s eyes but his grip on Amelia became even tighter. Apate¡¯s gaze shifted to Amelia¡¯s face and her heart refilled with the green poison of envy for even in such a time, Amelia¡¯s fair face, frame with her golden locks, scrunched up in anguish, looked as if God himself had adorned her eyes with pearl-like tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Amelia buried her face into the duke¡¯s chest, and both Maximilian and Apate looked away as if the sight was perhaps too intimate, too painful for them, and Apate closed her eyes shut to welcome death. She had gone through, what other people would consider, worst instances of pain and humiliation. Growing up as the daughter of the first wife of Baron Dalbright, her 28 years in the kingdom of Beachton were not easy. Tongues had wagged when the blue-eyed, fair-haired first Lady Dalbright had given birth to a mousy, dark-haired, brown-eyed little girl, but she had not lived long enough after childbirth to face the sting of such words whispering about infidelity, or protect Apate from the subsequent abuse the dark-haired, blue-eyed Baron Dalbright would continue to unleash on his daughter. His second wife, a famed former courtesan, Lady Iris Dalbright, picked up the baton of abuse and mistreatment with gusto. ¡®Dumpy girls like you shouln¡¯t eat too much. No one shall marry you with that figure, ¡® she would sneer as she ordered the kitchen servants to save table scraps for Apate while Baron Dalbright, her step brother, Damian and her stepsister, Daphne would feast on a lavish assortment of puddings, meats and soups. By the age of 18, people who came in and out of Baron Dalbright¡¯s estate had almost forgotten that he had three children, not just two fifteen-year-old twins for Apate had fallen into the routine of blending in with the estate staff and the Baron and Baroness were content with maintaining such a ruse. No one that did not remember of Apate was reminded of her by them. Her threadbare, washed-out dresses, unadorned, pulled-back hair, and hands calloused from years of menial household chores of course, did not get in the way of this. ¡®Mother! Mother! Apate, that wretched girl has broken my doll!¡¯ an eight-year-old Daphne had yelled once after Apate had failed to glue together a piece of the porcelain doll¡¯s foot that Daphne had dropped and broken. A tight slap on each cheek for Apate. ¡®You ugly bitch! That is not for you!, ¡® an eleven-year-old Damian had said while he landed four punches to a heaving Apate¡¯s gut for eating a piece of the stale brioche bun left in the kitchen. ¡®Why are your arms uncovered? You seem to have grown up to be a slut just like your mother!¡¯, the Baron had spat out in his drunken rage at a sixteen-year-old Apate before ordering her to be whipped 16 times on her calves. Stolen novel; please report. A hot iron to her shins in response to childhood acts of defiance, a few more slaps to the face, a lot of burned clothes, one shaved head and more instances of humiliation and pain at the hands of her so-called family members throughout 19 years of Apate¡¯s life had taught her to subdue the pain in her heart and take everything on the chin. By her twentieth year, she dared not hope for a better life. The abuse had trapped her in a cage and defiance only tightened its walls around her. In her twenty-first year of life, the author sowed the first seed of evil that would drive Apate into being a villainess that would forgo all human morals. But first, he teased her with a little bit of hope, a small chance of happiness in the form of the Marquis of Dalhurst, son of the Duke of Beachton. This year, the Duke of Beachton had been deliriously happy, for his prodigal son, Theodore, had returned after his final year of military education. He was twenty and two years of age and the Duke thought he should soon start searching for a wife ¨C he had heard too much about his son¡¯s dalliances and did not want his wealth to be squandered over by-blows in the future. The Duchess of Beachton was not too happy either about the rumours for even rumours have some foundation in truth. On one eve after his return, Baron Dalbright ordered the Baroness to arrange for a splendid feast in honour of the Duke of Beachton and his family for they were friends from Dalbright Academy where both the Baron and the Duke had spent their formative years and despite the nuances of their ranks spoiling some of the camaraderie they had when they were young, decorum still dictated that even as acquaintances and political allies, they both maintain good relations. On the eve of the feast, in preparation for the guests¡¯ arrival, the Drawing room table had been carefully laid out with various assortments of cakes ranging from honey plum to chocolate. The scent of freshly baked brioche bread and saffron-infused afternoon tea filled the air. The air had rung with the tinkle of laughter as the Duke and Duchess had arrived first and chatted away merrily with the Baron, Baroness, while Damian and Daphne smiled pleasantly but blankly. ¡®Oh my, does our Daphne play the pianoforte? What a splendid one you have!¡¯, the Duchess exclaimed. The Baroness gulped and the Baron lost his smile for a second because the pianoforte had belonged to his late wife and adulteress in his mind, but they soon regained their composure. ¡®Why yes, of course, she is quite good, the best amongst her peers even, if I do say so myself. Daphne dear, why don¡¯t you play some Berchoven for Your Grace? I hear he is your favourite up-and-coming composer.¡®, beamed the Baroness. Daphne chuckled nervously and Damian smirked for he knew that his twin sister had not quite been learning music during her music lessons. The music teacher was a smitten old fool and Daphne had him wrapped around his finger. Daphne got up from the chaise near the window and sat in front of the pianoforte. What followed as she began moving her fingers was best left undescribed for nothing could truly capture the horror of it. The servants in the scullery laughed as the screech of Daphne¡¯s horrid play reverberated throughout the house for she was not quite known as the kindest soul in the house. Such was the mounting displeasure in the Duchess that she broke decorum and put a stop to Daphne¡¯s playing by a question, and really, no one who had heard the playing faulted her. ¡®Lord Dalbright, is your oldest daughter afflicted this evening, for I do not see her in our company? Apathy, was it, her name? I always thought you had chosen such a peculiar name for her.¡¯ 2 - Apate sees Theodore Chapter 2 The Duke Loves Me ¡®Lord Dalbright, is your oldest daughter afflicted this evening, for I do not see her in our company? Apathy, was it, her name? I always thought you had chosen such a peculiar name for her.¡¯ The relief that the Baron and Baroness had felt after the Duchess stopped Daphne lasted only a fraction of a second for this question had them flustered again. ¡®I did not think you would remember her, your grace¡¯, chuckled the Baron after an awkward pause, without bothering to correct her. The rumors of the late Baroness¡¯s infidelity had not been unheard of by the Duke and Duchess but the Duchess had spent a good amount of time with the late Baroness when she had first married the Duke. In fact, it was the late Baroness who had subtly guided the Duchess into growing into the formidable, elegant noble that she was now. It was a different matter that time and duty to their own families had caused the two women to grow apart until one of them died, but the Duchess still held the late Baroness in high regard, say what rumors may. ¡®Of course, Lord Dalbright. Why, she was a most dear friend when we lived in Dalbright and we spent many pleasant evenings choosing dresses and ribbons at the modiste. It is a shame she died so young. I hope to see that the daughter of my late friend has grown into the same sort of brilliant young lady that my friend was. ¡¯ But Lady Dalbright had years of experience spinning webs of lies and she put it to good use this time. It helped that the Duke and Duchess had only arrived a short half an hour ago. ¡®Your grace, of course, she has. She was feeling rather blue this morning and is on the way from the doctor¡¯s infirmary. I shall check whether she is back right away,¡¯ and with that, the Baroness flounced out of the drawing room and into the scullery where Apate had been chatting with the other maids. Apate screamed because the Baroness Dalbright had grabbed a fistful of her hair upon entry into the scullery but the look of burning anger on her face soon silenced Apate. ¡® You wretched girl! You are the root of all our problems!¡¯, with that, Baroness Dalbright dragged Apate by her hair upstairs and along with her personal maids, began ripping the apron and bodice off of Apate. ¡®No! Not that blue dress, that is not for this girl¡¯s dirty skin! This old one, yes, this old pink dress shall do!¡¯ The Baronesses¡¯ maid, Leticia, shot a look of sympathy towards Apate¡¯s forlorn face before she helped Apate out of her shift and corset and into the pink dress as the Baroness watched on in distaste. Leticia and Apate had spent more than a few evenings chatting over stale potato mashes and onion stews; she even saw Leticia mouthing a small, pained ¡®Sorry¡¯ when helping her into the tight sleeves of the dress. When they were done, Apate was noticeably dwarfed by the large, puffed-up sleeves and the wide skirt. The satin material had lost its former shine which accentuated the gauntness of Apate¡¯s face, how her eyes and cheeks had sunken in, and her face had lost its color to be gradually replaced by yellow pallor. She looked as if in costume and that greatly pleased the Baroness. ¡®For someone who has a whore¡¯s blood in you, you look the part too,¡¯ Baroness Dalbright sneered with great pleasure as she dragged Apate into the Drawing room. Everything had happened so fast that Apate had not had time to compose her feelings about what was happening. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. As she was thrust into the harsh limelight of the Drawing room, she felt herself almost stumbling, each breath becoming more laborious than the previous by the second for everyone in the room had stood up and their expressions ranged from disgust to abject horror. Apate had the sense to curtsy at the Duke and Duchess of Beachton who were shaken out of their shocked silence. Upon Apate¡¯s curtsy, the Duchess smiled at her and pointed her towards the chaise facing the Duchess so that she sits while the Duke had a peculiar look of curiosity on his face. Apate trudged towards the chaise and sat down, much to the displeasure of the Dalbright family. ¡®How have you been, dear? You look rather pale now¡¯, inquired the Duchess softly. Apate managed to smile slowly; it had been a long long time before someone of note had asked her that question. But perhaps her smile resembled more of a grimace for the Duchess¡¯s smile dropped and the Baroness swooped in to steer the conversation to another matter. ¡®She has been well, Your grace. The girl never listens to me and oft skips meals because she is so involved in books. Your grace. Haha. Unlike my lovely Daphne, who keeps herself engaged with pianoforte, painting, and strolling to keep her lovely figure. Ahaha¡­say, Your Grace, word on the street is that the Marquis is on the marriage mart. ¡¯ The Duchess¡¯s mouth pursed in displeasure at the interruption and the Duke had still not lost that peculiar look on his face. ¡®Gossip is for small minds, Lady Dalbright, and I do not believe in indulging in gossip¡¯, and with that, the Duchess put a full stop to that matter despite the Baroness looking forward to furthering the prospects of Daphne as a potential bride for the Marquis. The next following hour and a half had followed the same pattern: the Duchess would pose a question to Apate who would be poised to answer but the Baron, Baroness, Daphne, or Damian would step in and answer. The Duke could feel his wife¡¯s mood souring and soon, what was supposed to be a dinner event ended after lunch when three hours had passed since the Duke and Duchess had arrived, albeit the Marquis, despite the event being in his honor, had not yet arrived. When Baron Dalbright and the Duke retired to the Baron¡¯s personal salon for a much-needed smoke, the Duke finally opened up about what was on his mind following a long intake of his cheroot. ¡®Dalbright, send your oldest chit to my estate on Tuesday that is coming first thing in the morning.¡¯ Baron Dalbright was puzzled until a sinister idea began forming in his head. He already hated the girl and didn¡¯t want to spend a penny on her dowry but the Duke taking her as a mistress would not only thoroughly ruin her and absolve the Baron of any duty to marry her off but also validate his feelings about her mirroring the debauchery of her mother¡¯s supposed infidelity. He smirked. ¡® Didn¡¯t know she was to your taste but she will be off my hands, that wretched girl, and it¡¯s high time you took a girl for yourself.¡¯ The Duke¡¯s face darkened at the Baron¡¯s suggestion-his wife and he had achieved a love match which was uncommon in Beachton and the thought of infidelity disgusted him. ¡®It seems that you have forgotten the bounds of decorum. I will let this go for we have history but I shall not let such insolence slide the next time.¡¯ It seemed that neither the Duchess nor the Duke had a good time at the Dalbright estate and when the carriage carrying Theodore Carlisle, Marquis of Dalhurst arrived and Theodore promptly informed the Dalbright family in the Drawing room that he couldn¡¯t stay the evening, his parents had been relieved and jumped on the chance to leave the place. ¡®Lord Carlisle, Marquis of Dalhurst,¡¯ announced the Dalbright butler and Theodore entered. There was an audible gasp from the room from whoever had not been a parent of the Marquis. Theodore Carlisle¡¯s handsomeness was the stuff of lore and everyone in Dalbright had heard of it but seeing his countenance in person was a different experience altogether. His jet-black hair shone under the light of the chandelier of the Drawing room. With a face that seemed to be specially sculpted by the Gods, his sleek, angular jaw could cut, and his deep blue eyes had the depth of an ocean and his sharp. It seemed that both Lady Dalbright and Daphne had adjusted their necklines downwards to draw attention to themselves, Damian began squirming for his own looks, or lack thereof, were a stark contrast to the man who had just arrived, and the Baron had a similar reaction. Apate had fallen in love. 3 - A Second Chance At Life The Duke Loves Me Apate had fallen in love. For the first time in her life, she had laid eyes on such a beautiful human specimen and she felt that perhaps, she had a future as a poet if the man standing before her were to be her subject. The Marquis barely noticed the sallow girl in pink in the corner as his gaze shifted from one person to another in the room. His gaze landed on his parents who he bowed to and, subsequently, was bowed to by the Dalbright family. The Marquis was in a hurry. Before the Dalbright could broach up other topics of conversation, ¡®Pardon me, Lord Dalbright. Lady Dalbright. But I must leave this evening for my estate needs my attention. The northern lands of Dalhurst have gone through a storm and my people need my attention.¡¯ Leaving would have been certainly rude but rank ruled higher than decorum and conversations had soured anyways. The Baron and Baroness gulped down any words of disapproval and bid the family of the Duke goodbye. That night, Apate only slept when the first sliver of sunlight broke the pitch black sky at dawn for she had been kept awake by thoughts of what it would be like to be near the Marquis, to hold him in her arms, to be held in his arms. And for the first time in many years, she didn¡¯t chastise herself for thinking so because such a reality didn¡¯t seem to good to be true. Her father had called her into his salon the hour after the Marquis and his family had left and with gritted teeth, spit out what the Duke had ordered him to do. The next Tuesday, Apate set off with a small purse and a heart full of hope toward the Duke¡¯s estate at Dalhurst. A small part of Apate had dared hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the Duke had wanted to choose her as a bride for his son, perhaps he was charmed by her ¡®simplicity¡¯ as the scullery maids liked to call it. Perhaps, the fates had finally decided to smile at her. Alas, such flighty thoughts were soon grounded in reality when the Duke¡­gave her an assignment, an assignment that truly, firmly established that he barely viewed her as a woman, let alone a prospective bride for his son. When Theodore finally brought Amelia home during Apate¡¯s twenty-second year, her infatuation for Theo had grown into an obsession fed by longing and tormented by aloofness from Theodore. Sometimes Apate had felt that he saw right through her as if she didn¡¯t exist. In her 23rd year, she had begun to nurture sheer hatred towards Amelia, the hatred that had begun as a small seed of jealousy when she had first laid her eyes upon Amelia¡¯s fair face. Amelia Carrington, the daughter of the Marquis of Caldrew, was known as the fairest rose of Beachton. Her heart-shaped face framed by long, luscious golden locks turned many heads, and broke many hearts. Many poets had written verses and epics inspired by Amelia¡¯s ocean-blue eyes and heart-shaped red lips. A perfect little nose sat atop her face that gave her an air of innocence that had driven men wild during her coming-out ball. Theodore only believed in having the best for himself and Amelia was, without doubt, the most coveted maiden in Beachton despite being a young girl of nineteen. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. When Apate turned twenty-three, three days after Theodore and Amelia¡¯s wedding, something in her switched. She ruined Amelia¡¯s dress. Amelia¡¯s maid was blamed and banished. When Apate turned twenty-six, she had managed to turn all the nobles in the estate against Amelia. When Apate turned twenty-seven, her hatred had only grown and Amelia had survived two murder attempts at that point. The burglars who had attempted so were caught but mysteriously died in prison. When Apate turned twenty-eight, Maximilian, Commander general of the army of Beachton caught Apate pouring cyanide into the pail of water for Amelia. Her quarters were soon torn down and searched. Pages upon pages of insidious planning were discovered and when Theodore, now, Duke of Beachton, stormed into her prison quarter, arm in arm with Amelia, Apate snapped and lunged at Amelia. But Maximilian¡¯s sword had been quicker than her. Apate screamed in pain as Maximilian¡¯s sword pierced her body. He swiftly pulled the sword out, as if to exert maximum pain on Apate¡¯s dying body and Apate began panting at the sight of the glistening maroon blood coating the sword along its length. ¡®Theo¡­Theo, how could you? Theo¡­I loved¡­I loved you.¡¯, Apate managed to throw out these words but this did nothing to displace the sheer contempt in Theodore¡¯s eyes but his grip on Amelia became even tighter. Apate¡¯s gaze shifted to Amelia¡¯s face and her heart refilled with the green poison of envy for even in such a time, Amelia¡¯s fair face, frame with golden lock, scrunched up in anguish looked as if God himself had adorned her eyes with pearl-like tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Amelia buried her face into the duke¡¯s arms, and both Maximilian and Apate looked away as if the sight was perhaps too intimate, too painful for them, and Apate closed her eyes shut to welcome death. In This Life, I Will Not Love You Anymore A searing pain spread through Apate¡¯s body as she twisted and squirmed as if her limbs were bound with ropes her body weight down by weights. Apate heard a booming voice that reverberated through her whole body. ¡®You will be paid for your moment of kindness. I have taken mercy on you and my mercy is my promise.¡¯ And she opened her eyes again. Apate sat up straight on her bed, panting. Was this all some kind of a nightmare? Why did her head and heart feel so heavy, then? Memories kept racing through her head. She shot up from her bed and ran towards the small sack of her belongings. She pulled out her mother¡¯s silver mirror and held it up in the moonlight. Her face was still as pale and gaunt as ever but the wrinkles deepened and forged by time had disappeared. Her skin was taut, like that of a young maiden. Her eyes shifted to the large pink satin dress carefully folded and placed on the stool beside her bed. It looked the same way that it had seven years ago, its satin material catching a small sliver of moonlight filtering through the window beside Apate¡¯s bed. Such a sight and the feel of the satin under her skin had burned a hole into Apate¡¯s memory forever, for she had woken up that fated night countless times to run her hands over the dress. Apate came to a shocking realization. She was alive. She was alive and had gone back in the past. She had gone back seven years in the past.