“They are notnothing, Wilhelm,” she insisted quietly. “These are proper scars. How did you get them?”
Wilhelm’s shoulders slumped, his defenses crumbling under the power of her gentle touch. He turned to face her, his emerald-green eyes filled with a vulnerability that she had never before witnessed.
“They are a reminder of my past, Genevieve,” he confessed, his voice thick with memory. “A past I would rather forget.”
Genevieve’s heart clenched with empathy, her fingers continuing their gentle exploration of his scars.
“Who did this to you?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
Wilhelm’s gaze drifted towards the window, the moonlight casting his features in a somber light.
“My father,” he replied hollowly.
Genevieve’s eyes widened in shock, and her face grew pale. She had often heard her father speak of the late Duke’s cruel nature, his iron-fisted rule, and his ruthless ambition, but she had never imagined that his cruelty would mean abusing his own son.
“He was… an unforgiving man,” Wilhelm continued, his voice filled with a bitterness that chilled her. “He believed that power was the only currency that mattered and that emotions were a weakness to be exploited… or exterminated.”
He paused, his gaze fixed on the distant stars that twinkled through the window.
“After my mother’s death, it got worse. He was…” he scoffed. “He was molding me into the man hebelievedI should be.” Those final words were laced with thick sarcasm, his lips thinning as he spoke.
Genevieve’s heart grieved for young Wilhelm, trapped in a never-ending world of pain and violence.
She reached out, gently cupping his cheek, attempting to offer him a small measure of comfort with her touch.
Wilhelm turned his head and looked at her with gratitude in his eyes.
“Whenever I showed any sign of emotion—weakness—any hint of vulnerability, he would… punish me,” he confessed. “And that was… often.”
Genevieve slowly shook her head, speechless with shock and revulsion.
“He would whip me,” Wilhelm said sadly. “He would whip me until my back was raw and bleeding. Until he was certain I had learned from my mistakes.”
Genevieve gasped as her eyes filled with tears. She felt her heart shatter into tiny pieces at the pain he had endured.
She traced the lines of his scars, her touch a silent apology for the cruelty he had suffered.
“I learned to bury my emotions,” Wilhelm continued, his voice distant. “I learned to never rely on anyone but myself. I became the man my father wanted me to be. Not as if I had much of a choice in the matter.”
He paused, his eyes searching hers. “But you, Genevieve,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made her heart soar. “You have shown me that there is more to life than power and control. You have shown me things I had never thought possible and have given me things I never believed I deserved.”
Genevieve shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. Her heart swelled with a deep love for him that began in her heart and filled her soul. She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a compassionate kiss as he wrapped his arms around her and sighed deeply.
She buried her face in his neck as she burst into tears.
“Please… do not cry for me,” Wilhelm begged, his own voice heavy with unshed tears as he hugged her close to his heart.
The silence in the room was only interrupted by the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle rhythm of Wilhelm’s breathing.
Her tears finally subsiding, Genevieve took a shaky breath and fixed her gaze on the dancing flames, then cleared her throat.
“It happened when I was eighteen,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, the memories of that night swirling in her mind like a hurricane.
“My parents, twin sisters, and I were on our way to a ball. The storm that night was horrific. The force of the wind and rain blew the trees sideways, and the road was filled with water, mud, and debris. The carriage lurched… and then…”
Her voice cracked, the image of the overturned carriage and the shattered remains of her family flashing before her eyes.
Wilhelm’s hand tightened around her, his touch a silent reassurance.
