Chapter 22: I Was Curious

Ronan’s expression hardened.

"Because she is a Ripley."

Evelyn stared at him for a moment, apparently waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she folded her arms across her chest.

"That’s your answer?"

"It’s the only one you need."

"How reassuring." She tilted her head. "So you married Naya because of her family name?"

"I married her because her sister murdered the woman I intended to spend my life with, then ran away and left everyone else to deal with the consequences. Her family owes me a debt, Evelyn. Naya is simply the one who ended up paying it."

Something flickered across Evelyn’s face.

"Paying it?"

"Don’t pretend you don’t understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly." Her voice sharpened. "You couldn’t get your hands on the woman responsible, so you married her sister instead."

Ronan’s eyes narrowed.

"Be careful."

"Why? Is it suddenly offensive to say aloud what you’ve done?"

"I suggest you remember whose house you’re standing in."

"And I suggest you remember who you’re speaking to."

For a moment, neither moved. The servants had long since cleared the breakfast dishes, leaving the two of them alone with the uncomfortable truth neither seemed willing to leave untouched.

Finally, Ronan turned away.

"Naya knew what she was agreeing to."

"Did she?"

"She agreed to the marriage."

"That wasn’t what I asked."

He looked back at her.

Evelyn took a step closer to the table, resting her fingertips against its polished surface.

"Did she know you intended to make her miserable? Did she know you planned to spend every day reminding her that her sister’s actions had destroyed your happiness? Did you tell her that you would never allow her to be anything more than a convenient target for your anger?"

"She knew this marriage wasn’t built on love."

"That isn’t the same thing."

"It is to me."

Evelyn let out a quiet breath, shaking her head.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The excuse you’ve been using to justify everything you’ve done since Seraphine died."

Ronan’s face went cold.

"Do not bring Seraphine into this."

"You’re the one who brought her into your marriage."

The words landed harder than Evelyn had intended. For an instant, she saw the pain behind his expression, the part of him that still reacted to Seraphine’s name as though the wound had never begun to heal.

But she also saw the anger rushing in to cover it.

"Her death changed everything," he said. "Everything I had planned, everything I believed my future would be. And while I was burying the woman I loved, Naya’s sister was somewhere enjoying her freedom."

"You don’t know that."

"I know enough."

"No, Ronan. You know what happened. You know what you’ve been told. But you have decided that every person connected to Naya’s family deserves to suffer for it."

"Her family has suffered nothing compared to what I have."

"And that makes it right?"

He didn’t answer.

Evelyn watched him, her expression growing sadder.

"You used to hate injustice."

"I still do."

"Then why are you committing it?"

His gaze snapped to hers.

"Are you finished?"

"Not remotely."

"How unfortunate."

"You can dismiss me, Ronan. You can have a servant escort me out of the palace if that makes you feel better. But you asked why I was here, and I am telling you exactly why." She paused. "I wanted to see whether the man I once knew was still in there somewhere."

His jaw tightened.

"And have you found him?"

"I’m not sure."

"Then perhaps you should stop looking."

"Perhaps I would, if you would stop giving me reasons to believe he’s still there."

He turned toward the windows, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. Evelyn knew that particular silence. It was the one he used when he wanted people to mistake his refusal to answer for strength.

She had seen him use it on council members, rival Alphas, and anyone foolish enough to challenge him in public.

It had never worked on her.

"Does Naya know?" she asked.

"Know what?"

"That you married her to punish her."

"She isn’t stupid."

"That wasn’t my question."

Ronan exhaled sharply.

"She knows I hold her family responsible for what happened."

"And does she know you intend to make her pay for it?"

"What difference does it make? The result is the same."

Evelyn’s lips parted slightly.

For the first time since their conversation began, she looked genuinely appalled.

"You really believe that, don’t you?"

"I don’t need your approval."

"No. You never did." She looked down at the table before meeting his eyes again. "But I thought you might still have some conscience left."

His expression became dangerous.

"Enough."

"Why? Because I’m saying things you don’t want to hear?"

"Because you have no idea what I’ve been through."

"You’re right. I haven’t lost the woman I intended to marry. I haven’t had to bury someone I loved while wondering whether the person responsible would ever face justice. I will never pretend to understand that kind of grief." Her voice softened. "But I know you, Ronan. Or I used to. And I know that the man who once loved Seraphine would never have wanted her memory turned into an excuse to destroy another person’s life."

"Don’t tell me what Seraphine would have wanted."

"Then tell me yourself."

He stared at her.

"Tell me she would have wanted you to marry a woman you resent simply so you could make her suffer. Tell me she would have wanted you to wake up every morning beside someone you claim to despise and spend your days finding new reasons to punish her. Tell me that is the future she would have wanted for you."

"Stop."

"Would she?"

"Enough, Evelyn!"

His voice echoed through the dining room.

Evelyn fell silent.

Ronan stood rigidly beside the window, his hands clenched at his sides. For a moment, she thought he might say something else, something cruel enough to end their friendship entirely. Instead, he turned away and dragged a hand over his face.

"Get out," he said quietly.

She didn’t move.

"Ronan—"

"I said get out."

Evelyn looked at him for a long moment before slowly shaking her head.

"You know what frightens me most?"

He didn’t respond.

"Not that you married Naya to punish her. Not even that you seem determined to convince yourself you hate her." She swallowed. "It’s that you might eventually realize you’ve been lying to yourself, and by then, you will have hurt her so badly that it won’t matter anymore."

Ronan turned toward her.

"You presume far too much."

"Perhaps." Evelyn picked up her gloves from the table. "But I remember the way you looked at her when she entered this room."

His expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened.

"You were laughing with me," she continued. "Then you saw her, and everything changed. You stopped smiling. You watched her as though her opinion mattered, even while pretending it didn’t."

"You’re imagining things."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

Evelyn studied him, then gave a small, humorless laugh.

"You always did become difficult when someone came too close to the truth."

She slipped on her gloves.

"And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you married Naya simply to punish her."

Ronan’s expression hardened.

"You’re wrong."

"Maybe. But if revenge were all you wanted, you could have made her family’s life miserable in a hundred different ways. You could have stripped them of their privileges, taken their lands, or demanded whatever price you believed they owed you."

"I wanted the debt settled personally."

"Exactly." Evelyn held his gaze. "You wanted her close enough to remind you of what you lost."

His silence was answer enough for her.

She shook her head again.

"You’ve made your grief her prison, Ronan. And the worst part is that you seem to believe you’re the one trapped inside it."

He looked away.

For once, Evelyn didn’t push him to respond. She knew when she had reached the limits of what he was willing to hear, and she had no intention of begging him to acknowledge something he wasn’t ready to face.

She walked toward the doors, stopping just before she reached them.

"One more thing."

Ronan didn’t turn around.

"If you truly feel nothing for your wife, then leave her alone. Stop interfering whenever another man speaks to her. Stop looking for excuses to keep her beside you. Stop acting as though you have some special claim over her simply because she carries your name."

His shoulders stiffened.

"That is none of your concern."

"Perhaps not. But it will become everyone’s concern if you continue treating her like something you own rather than a person with feelings of her own."

She opened the door.

"And if you do feel something for her, then I suggest you figure out what it is before your need to punish her destroys whatever chance you might have had."

The door closed behind her.

Ronan remained by the window, staring out at the gardens without really seeing them.

He should have been angry. Evelyn had crossed a line by questioning his marriage, his grief, and the decisions he had made since Seraphine’s death. She had spoken as though she had the right to examine his motives and pass judgment on the man he had become.

Yet what irritated him most was that he couldn’t dismiss her words as easily as he wanted to.

He had married Naya because she was a Ripley. Because her sister had taken something from him that could never be replaced. Because he wanted her family to understand that their actions had consequences.

Those reasons were sound. They were simple. They were the reasons he had repeated to himself from the moment he agreed to the marriage.

But there were other things he preferred not to examine.

The way he noticed when Naya entered a room.

The way her absence irritated him more than her presence sometimes did.

The way he had moved his arm away when Evelyn touched him, not because the gesture offended him, but because he had suddenly become aware that Naya was watching.

And the way his attention had followed his wife even after she walked away.

None of those things changed the reason he had married her.

They couldn’t.

He had lost Seraphine, and Naya was a constant reminder of the family responsible for that loss. Whatever strange attachment had begun forming between them was irrelevant. He would not allow it to change what needed to be done.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

Ronan returned to the table and picked up his untouched cup of tea. It had gone cold.

He set it down again.

Evelyn had been wrong about one thing. He wasn’t trapped in his grief.

He had chosen what to do with it.

He had chosen Naya.

And if the sight of her walking away from his table had unsettled him, that was merely an inconvenience. Nothing more.

He could live with that.

He had to.

Because the moment he allowed himself to question why he wanted Naya close while insisting she meant nothing to him, he would have to confront the possibility that his marriage had become something far more complicated than revenge.

And Ronan wasn’t ready to do that.