Lavinia laughed bitterly. "Is that what you truly think, David? That's not how the world works. Society only cares about what you can give. And if I can't give Andrew an heir...if I cannot provide what is expected of me, it will all be for nothing. I will be nothing."
"Lavinia, you might be overthinking this," he said to her.
"You don't understand!" she retorted in frustration. "Why is no one listening?"
Lavinia's frustration boiled over, and she turned away from David. It had reached the point where she was tired of talkingabout it. Before David could stop her, she was already striding toward the street, her steps quick and uneven.
"Lavinia, wait!" David's voice called after her, but she ignored it.
She moved swiftly, her breath shallow as she tried to push down the tears threatening to spill over. She didn't want to cry in front of anyone, least of all in front of a group of strangers. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she had to get away from everything.
As she moved further into the crowd, her vision began to blur with tears. She couldn't stop them anymore. She was so tired of holding it all in. It felt like her heart was drowning.
Before she could retreat to a corner to cry alone, a strong hand gripped her arm, yanking her away from the bustling crowd. Her breath caught in her throat, panic surging through her, but before she could react, something covered her mouth.
The sounds of the crowd faded as the hand that held her guided her into a more secluded part of the street. Lavinia's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse racing as she struggled against the sudden restraint.
David's voice called out in the distance, faint and muffled. "Lavinia, where are you going?"
She tried to scream, to call out to him, but the hand covering her mouth was firm, forcing her into silence. Lavinia's chest heaved,her thoughts racing as she struggled to break free, but the grip on her arm remained unyielding.
Just as she thought she might collapse from the tension, the hand lifted from her mouth, and she turned to face her captor, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion.
Before she could speak, he placed a cloth over her nose and in an instant, everywhere went dark.
"So, you have decided? You're going to let her go?"
The days following Lavinia's departure were the longest Andrew had ever endured. He had not slept a wink since the night she went away. His thoughts were a constant barrage of guilt, regret, and longing. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face...her tear-streaked cheeks, the way her eyes had pleaded for a future that he could not offer.
He couldn't bring himself to eat. The bottles of alcohol in his study grew emptier by the day. They were a temporary escape from the crushing weight of his reality. Every night, when he had too much to drink, he would retreat to the room where his father's painting loomed over him, and they would have their usual battles. The furious arguments with the silent portrait, the scorn he could never express when his father had been alive, now pouring out in bitterness.
But nothing helped. No amount of alcohol, no screaming at the portrait, could drown out the hollow ache in his chest.
It was on one of those days, when the hours seemed to drag on endlessly, that Solomon found him. He hadn't been told anything about Lavinia leaving, but it wasn't hard to guess. Andrew's pale face, bloodshot eyes, and the mess of unkempt hair were a clear sign that something was very wrong.
But somehow, he managed to get Andrew to freshen up. It had taken him over an hour to get him to agree to leave his bed and take a nice bath. It had also taken Andrew another hour to agree to leave the bathtub. If it were up to him, he would have sat there all day, drinking and contemplating whether to bury his head under the water until the bubbles stopped.
"Do I have a choice?" Andrew asked Solomon. They were seated in the study, in front of the fireplace. "You have heard all that I have said. It's the wise choice."
"It's a stupid choice," Solomon mumbled. Andrew wasn't surprised. Solomon wasn't one to mince words.
"I don't know much about love," Solomon continued. "But I don't think you're doing it right. Why is the best option here to let her go? To annul the marriage?"
Andrew exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. His temples throbbed from lack of sleep, the effects of too much brandy, and the relentless thoughts that refused to quiet. Hestared into the fire, watching the embers crackle and spit as though they might have an answer for him.
"It's not about what I want," he muttered. "It's about what's right. I should have told her from the start."
"Then why didn't you?" Solomon asked.
Andrew didn't need to think of his answer. "I guess...this place felt like a home with her in it. It wasn't as...lonely as it used to be. I was being selfish."
"Now, you feel bad about being selfish?" he asked.
Andrew nodded. "I have told her what I want. I want to have a life with her. Just the two of us. Until we breathe our last breath. But I cannot expect her to just accept a reality that she despises."
Solomon leaned forward. "I am not sure I understand. What are you so terrified of?"
"I am not terrified of anything," he answered firmly. "I am not scared of raising children. That is not what this is. I might not know what it takes to be a good father, but the only reason I am standing by this decision is because I refuse to go back on my promise. The house of Cornelius Haskett will end with me. It must."
