Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 131

Count Twyford, with a faint grin, dragged over a simple chair and sat across from Blair. Even as she narrowed her eyes, unable to lower her guard, he leaned in closer without a care.

“By the way, is there anywhere you feel unwell? Aren’t you hungry?”

“….”

“I didn’t realize so much time had passed already. Shall I have something to drink brought in?”

Blair was dumbfounded. After abducting his pregnant daughter to some remote, unknown place, was he now trying to play the role of a kind father? Count Twyford remained completely composed, as if there were nothing strange about this situation.

“Did you kidnap me just to have a long-overdue chat?”

“Kidnap? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?”

The count continued with a shameless expression, “I’m hurt. I certainly didn’t bring you here to harm you.”

“You lured me here with the letter my mother hid for over ten years. That’s why, isn’t it?”

“Let’s clear up that misunderstanding first. This father of yours, in fact….”

“Stop it! Someone already died!”

Unable to listen any longer, Blair raised her voice. Kane let out a loud scoff. Perhaps he had been warned not to interfere in the father-daughter conversation, as he had been silently watching, but now that things were not going as the count intended, he sneered openly.

“Figures. Just like a woman, nagging like hell.”

Muttering quietly, Kane soon shouted in a rough voice.

“Hey, Count! What you need is the duchess’s signature, right? A thumbprint won’t do? We could’ve just cut off a finger from the start, so why are you making this so complicated?”

“Why don’t you go inside and change that bandage or get some rest!”

Not backing down, Count Twyford snapped back.

“This is a matter for our family. How many times must I tell you it’s none of your concern?”

“…Damn it, we don’t have time, so hurry up and finish it!”

Grumbling, Kane fiddled with the blood-soaked bandage and went into the room. Even until the moment the door slammed shut, his bloodshot gaze persistently swept over Blair.

“You saw that, didn’t you? He’s not an ordinary dangerous man.”

Count Twyford glanced toward where he had disappeared and lowered his voice.

“I don’t trust that man. Look at him, calm as can be even after a colleague he treated like family died. He’s a man without a shred of blood or tears.”

“….”

“The problem is… until that greedy bastard gets what I promised him, he won’t back down no matter what he has to do.”

Then he deliberately paused and fixed Blair with an obvious look. Blair met his disgusting gaze head-on and asked, “How much do you want?”

“Do you think I brought you all the way here for a few coins?”

As if he’d heard a joke, Count Twyford let out a short laugh. He then pushed back his chair, stood up, and brought over a document case he had placed on the dust-covered console table.

“Would you like to read it?”

Blair lowered her gaze to the file he held out. It was a contract. The several-page document was composed of clear clauses, as if it had been reviewed by a lawyer.

As she read it with a sense of unease, she suddenly froze. It took only a few lines for her to realize that this was far more than a simple contract demanding money.

Clauses to formalize his rights as the maternal grandfather upon the child’s birth, and under the pretext of guardianship, provisions quietly granting him authority and a say over major decisions concerning the child.

In other words, if this contract were concluded, Count Twyford would be able to interfere not only in the child’s upbringing but even in the private affairs of the Libert ducal house.

“…I can’t believe this.”

That wasn’t all. A clause demanding that a large trust be established in the unborn child’s name also caught her eye. It explicitly stated that the trustee must be the maternal grandfather, Count Twyford, and under the pretext of management and investment, his authority was excessively broad.

There was even a provision requiring the ducal house to pay a regular allowance to preserve the maternal grandfather’s dignity. It was framed as maintaining the prestige of the Twyford family, but the contract clearly revealed his intention to turn the child’s very existence into a source of income.

“If you agree to all of this….”

At the voice, Blair raised her head.

“You just need to write your name at the bottom of the last page.”

“Do you really think I would sign this?”

Even to someone like me, who has only ever seen a contract when entering a sham marriage with Edmund, this is a vile contract.

I will never agree. Not to such an overt threat disguised as a sheet of paper.

“There’s plenty of time.”

Count Twyford leaned back leisurely against the back of his chair.

“Even the Duke Libert won’t be able to find where this place is. It may look like a mess, but it’s stocked with provisions. I might even have to deliver your child myself.”

At the horrifying thought, Blair’s face turned pale. She couldn’t believe this place had been prepared not as a temporary hideout, but with long-term stay in mind.

“I can wait as long as it takes. A war of attrition won’t benefit you. You wouldn’t want to put the child inside you at risk either.”

Blair steadied her trembling breath and inhaled quietly. Then she went over his words and thought carefully. There was clearly a gap in what he said, and she needed to strike precisely at that point.

“A war of attrition doesn’t benefit anyone right now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think that man named Kane will wait for you indefinitely. He’s injured and bleeding, and he looks like someone who wants this settled within a day or two.”

Count Twyford’s brow subtly furrowed.

“Besides, even if I sign this….”

Blair glanced uneasily at the tightly shut door. It still felt as if killing intent lingered beyond it.

“You can’t receive the money immediately, can you?”

In the long run, this contract was practically a gold mine, creating a structure that would bring in money for life. To extract a large sum legally over a long period, this method was the most efficient.

But given the amount involved, it wasn’t money that could be put into his hands today or tomorrow. Even the allowance under the pretext of maintaining appearances would be paid at the earliest in a month….

“That man won’t wait quietly.”

Unlike Count Twyford, who was a noble to his bones, Kane was a human trafficker who lived day to day. Could someone living with the anxiety that things might go wrong at any moment really endure waiting for a whole month?

After a brief, heavy silence settled, the corner of Count Twyford’s lips slowly lifted.

“…I suppose I should cut off that filthy tail.”

The words he muttered quietly were filled with malice. Blair drew in a deep breath and let it out.

“I don’t recommend it.”

“Ha! Now you dare to give me advice.”

“It’s obvious even to me. Do you think a man who sells people for money wouldn’t see through your greed?”

“Then shut your mouth and sign it right now.”

“Your calculation is wrong. The moment you brought me here, the man standing in front of me became a criminal.”

“You insolent…!”

With his eyes rolling back, Count Twyford seized Blair’s wrist in a rough grip. He forced a pen into her hand and dragged it toward the signature line, but Blair resisted with all her strength.

“Write it! Right now!”

“No… never…!”

As Blair cried out in pain, she suddenly turned her head and went pale. Startled, Count Twyford halted and turned around as well. Kane, who had gone into the room to change his bandage, had come out at some point without a sound and was standing there watching them. A calm, calculating expression had already settled over his face, as if he had finished weighing everything.

“This is why you nobles can’t be trusted.”

Muttering under his breath, Kane let out a low, eerie chuckle. Drops of blood that had run down from his shoulder fell from his dark fingertips, dripping one by one. No, what he held in that hand was a gun.

“W-What do you think you’re doing!”

Count Twyford shouted as he sprang to his feet. Kane didn’t answer. The hand holding the gun didn’t tremble, and his breathing wasn’t even rough. His eyes were clear, like someone who had finally finished unnecessary calculations.

As expected, he was a man living only for today. The kind that would be the first to be cut off the longer things dragged on.

The gun slowly rose through the air, until at last it took aim at someone.