The dull light from the small window cast narrow shadows across the cold concrete walls. The air smelled of rust and sweat—of regrets and anger lingering too long. Gregory stood stiffly before the steel bars, his hands clenched, eyes burning with restrained fury.
Desmund sat lazily on the bench inside the cell, his smirk sharp as a blade. The faint bruises on his jaw didn't dim his arrogance; if anything, they made his grin darker.
"Why did you do it?" Gregory's voice trembled—not with fear, but with a mixture of disbelief and rage. "Caliste did nothing to you. She didn't deserve any of this."
Desmund chuckled, the sound low and venomous. "Didn't she? You think this is about her?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "This is about Lucian."
Gregory's eyes narrowed. "Lucian? What the hell does he have to do with your madness?"
Desmund tilted his head, studying Gregory's reaction with cruel satisfaction. "He looks exactly like him. Like Lincoln Velmore," he hissed, his smile twisting into something hateful. "Every time I see that face, I see the man who took everything—power, respect, my beloved, my chance at anything."
Gregory's jaw tightened. "Lincoln has been dead for decades, Desmund. Whatever grudge you have should have died with him."
"Oh no," Desmund sneered, standing up slowly, his eyes glinting with hatred. "You see, Lincoln's legacy lived on through that son of his—Lucian Velmore. The golden boy. The perfect heir. The world worships him the same way it once did his father. I wanted him to lose everything—his company, his pride… his woman."
Gregory's voice broke with controlled fury. "So you used Caliste? Drugged her, manipulated her, and made her lose her child—just to hurt Lucian?"
Desmund laughed again, loud and hollow, echoing off the concrete. "Yes. And I'd do it again. Because I wanted him to taste what it's like to be powerless… like I was when Lincoln destroyed my life."
Gregory's face hardened, the weight of disgust heavy in his chest. "You're sick. You let your hate consume you until there's nothing left."
Desmund's smile faded, replaced by a chilling calm. "Maybe. But I achieved what I wanted. The mighty Lucian Velmore finally knows pain."
Gregory turned to leave, but before stepping away, he said quietly, "You didn't break him, Desmund. You only reminded him what he stands to protect."
Desmund didn't answer. He only stared at the retreating figure of Gregory with eyes that burned with hatred and madness, his laughter echoing once more through the corridor—dark and hollow, as if mocking the very concept of redemption.
----
Rain trickled softly down the windshield as the car cruised through the dimly lit road back to the Winslow estate. The silence between Gregory and Agatha was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the engine and the rhythmic patter of the rain.
Agatha's hands twisted nervously on her lap before she finally spoke, her voice trembling.
"Gregory… what did Desmund mean when he said Lincoln took everything from him?"
Gregory didn't answer right away. His gaze was distant, eyes following the blur of city lights outside the window. He exhaled deeply, a sigh that carried decades of memories.
"Desmund wasn't always like that," he began quietly. "He was… brilliant. Ambitious. Back when we were young, he had everything planned out for his future. He was studying business while I handled the accounts. But what set him apart was his heart — he was kind, hopeful, and deeply in love."
Agatha's brows furrowed. "With who?"
Gregory's eyes softened with a trace of sadness. "Catleya Vellaria… Lucian's mother."
Agatha gasped softly, covering her mouth. Gregory nodded slowly. "They were inseparable during their university years. Desmund used to tell me she was the reason he wanted to succeed — that one day, he'd marry her and unite both our families. Our father approved of it too. He saw it as an opportunity to strengthen our business ties with the Vellarias."
He paused, a faint, bitter smile curling on his lips. "He even spoke to Aster Vellaria herself, Catleya's mother. But Aster was cautious. She said she'd only agree if Catleya herself approved."
Agatha leaned closer. "And did she?"
Gregory nodded faintly. "She did. For a time, it seemed everything was falling into place. Desmund courted her properly — dinners, letters, flowers every week. I'd never seen him so alive. Catleya began to warm up to him too… until Lincoln Velmore came."
The name hung in the air like a curse.
"Lincoln," Gregory continued, voice growing heavier, "was a force. Charismatic, ruthless, the golden heir of the Velmores. When he set his eyes on Catleya, everything changed. Aster objected to their union — she saw through his ambition. But Lincoln was clever. He made himself indispensable to the Vellaria empire, especially when their southern branch was nearing bankruptcy."
Agatha's voice softened. "So Catleya…"
"She sacrificed herself," Gregory finished quietly. "She married Lincoln to save the Vellaria business. She told Desmund it was over, that she had to choose duty over love."
His voice cracked slightly as he added, "Desmund never recovered. The man who once dreamed of a life with her turned cold… then bitter. Every success Lincoln had, every smile Catleya wore beside him — it broke him a little more. He convinced himself that Lincoln stole not only his love, but his destiny."
Agatha leaned back in her seat, her eyes glistening. "So that's why he hated Lucian… because he carries Lincoln's face."
Gregory nodded, his jaw tightening. "Yes. Desmund saw Lucian as the living shadow of the man who ruined his life. That hatred festered until it consumed everything — his reason, his compassion, even his sanity."
The car fell into silence again, only the rain whispering against the glass.
Agatha reached for Gregory's hand, squeezing it gently. "No one wins when hatred passes through generations."
Gregory nodded faintly, his eyes still fixed on the dark road ahead.
"No," he murmured, "but maybe… it ends with us."
The night was silent except for the echoing footsteps of the guard making his rounds. Inside the last cell, Desmund Winslow sat hunched on the edge of his cot, the faint yellow glow of the bulb above outlining his face — a twisted smile playing on his lips.
A small, smuggled phone buzzed quietly in his hand. He glanced toward the hallway — no guard in sight. He pressed the answer button, bringing it close to his ear.
Desmund (low, rasping): "You've seen the news, haven't you? The great Lucian Velmore… broken. Lost his child. Haunted by guilt. It's almost poetic."
A voice on the other end — calm, deep, and laced with a dangerous amusement — replied,
Voice: "You've done well, Desmund. But this is only the beginning. He still has everything that should've been yours — power, name, bloodline. Until that's gone, we're not finished."
Desmund's grin widened. His eyes glinted with a feverish madness.
Desmund: "You think I'd stop now? No, no… I want him to suffer more. I want him to lose the very things that make him human. Let him feel what it's like to crawl in despair like I did."
The voice chuckled softly.
Voice: "Then we continue with the plan. I'll handle the financial part — the board's already questioning his absence. You just wait, old friend. Soon, Lucian Velmore will watch his empire crumble."
Desmund leaned closer to the phone, whispering like a viper.
Desmund: "Good. Tear down everything he built… just like Lincoln tore down my life. The Velmores think they can erase me, but I'll haunt their legacy until the last of them bleeds."
There was a moment of silence. Then the voice replied, low and cryptic:
Voice: "Be patient, Desmund. The game has only begun. Soon, the Velmore throne will fall — from the inside."
The line went dead. Desmund stared at the phone screen for a long moment, then began to laugh — low at first, then louder, echoing through the cell block like a deranged hymn.
A nearby guard stopped in his tracks, shuddering as he heard the sound.
Behind the iron bars, Desmund whispered to himself:
"Let's see how much more pain you can endure, Lucian…"
He turned to the dark corner of his cell — and from the faint glimmer of the steel toilet pipe, a hidden camera blinked once, recording everything.