Chapter Seventy-Six

———The Memories Continue———

"Tell me, just how ridiculous must she be to actually believe I could ever like her?" Rivers spoke with utter disdain, his gaze toward Arthur laced with mockery as well.

"At that moment, I knew she had to go." Rivers' hand, which had rested atop Arthur's head, slid down to Arthur's neck. "Her presence, to me, is no different from garbage—utterly superfluous." As he spoke, his broad palm tightened around Arthur's throat, squeezing until Arthur's cheeks flushed crimson before abruptly releasing him.

"So you must remember this always—The Rivers family has no use for those without value!" Rivers smiled cruelly.

Outside the door, Shadowmoon was trembling in terror after hearing Rivers' words. She hugged herself tightly, struggling not to scream, Rivers' voice echoing relentlessly in her ears.

The Rivers family has no use for those without value… A woman’s only worth lies in bearing a valuable child…

So her own value depended on producing a child worthy of the Rivers family. Yet, regardless of whether she succeeded, her fate would be the same—discarded as trash.

Which meant her lifespan was just one year!

The more Shadowmoon thought about it, the more terrified she became—and suddenly she remembered Arthur. He was still inside… he…

Inside the room, Arthur could not suppress his violent coughs no matter how hard he tried. Fury surged within his chest like a tempest; blood roiled beneath his skin. Every time a hot taste rose in his throat, he forced himself to swallow it.

Rivers, finally snapped from his frenzy by Arthur’s coughing, gradually calmed himself. He regarded Arthur with cold eyes and spoke with indifference,

"Are you alright?"

Arthur quieted after another fit of coughing, though his cheeks remained flushed.

Rivers looked him over with distaste. "Your constitution is pathetic. The intensity of your training will be increased by another degree," he said.

Arthur bowed his head, breathing heavily, about to respond when Rivers muttered, "As expected, the child of a frail woman is just as weak."

Arthur froze, hate blazing in his eyes. He clenched his fists so tightly that blood welled between his fingers. Slowly, he released his grip, ignoring the crimson liquid, raised his head, looked straight at Rivers, and smiled respectfully.

"Yes, Father."

After speaking, Arthur bowed respectfully, poured a cup of tea, and offered it to Rivers with both hands.

"Father, please have some tea."

Rivers noticed Arthur’s blood-stained fingers and frowned, refusing the cup. Arthur’s outstretched arm hung suspended for a moment before he set the cup down, switched it to his left hand, and then, with deliberate grace, poured the scalding tea over his own hand. The dark liquid streamed down his fingers, burying the blood in its flow, hiding all traces.

Just like the Rivers family itself—a filthy core concealed by a polished exterior.

Once the tea had drained away, Arthur took out a handkerchief and elegantly wiped each finger clean, tossing the soiled cloth into the wastebasket. Then—he took a fresh cup, poured new tea, bowed again, head lowered, hands respectfully extended toward Rivers.

"Father, please have some tea."

———The Memories Are Not Yet Over———