Page 71 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
The closer she moved to his door, the tighter the knot in her stomach became.
Genevieve grasped the iron handle and twisted it with a sharp jerk, but the heavy oak door refused to budge. A rush of frustration surged through her, and she yanked harder, as though sheer force would grant her entry.
When the door failed to open despite her efforts, she hammered on it violently with both fists, the resounding thuds reverberating down the corridor.
“Wilhelm!” she shouted, her voice raw with fury.
She struck the door even harder, the sting blooming in her palms as tears pricked her eyes.
The silence on the other side only fueled her anger, and she began to kick the door savagely, each blow punctuated by a ragged sob.
“Let me in!”
The stillness of the hall swallowed her voice, but she did not care. The door, solid and unyielding, was more than just a wooden barrier—it was Wilhelm shutting her out, and she would no longer tolerate it.
“Wilhelm!” she screamed with manic ferocity. “Open this door at once!”
A few moments later, the lock clicked softly and the door creaked open. Wilhelm stood before her in the dimly lit room.
The faint glow of a solitary lamp cast uneven shadows on his face, highlighting the dark circles beneath his eyes. His usually meticulously groomed hair was disheveled and fell across his brow in messy waves, and his broad shoulders were slumped.
He stood motionless for a moment, as if unsure whether to meet her gaze or retreat further into the shadows of the room.
“Genevieve?” he inquired lethargically. “Whatever is the matter?”
Genevieve’s eyes locked onto his, filled with hurt and accusation. “Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. “Why have you been using me?”
Wilhelm furrowed his brow.
“Using you?” he questioned. “What do you mean?”
“Mycurse,” Genevieve retorted, her voice gaining strength. “You have been using it to intimidate your rivals and manipulate them to your advantage.”
Wilhelm’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze momentarily darting away. “Who told you such a thing?” he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of apprehension. “Was it Gaverton?”
Genevieve shook her head, her gaze unwavering.
“It does not matter,” she declared, her voice firm. “The fact remains that you have been using me. Just like everyone else in my life always has.”
Wilhelm’s expression hardened, and he clenched his jaw. “I have not been using you, Genevieve,” he retorted. “I merely… utilized your reputation to our advantage.”
“Utilizedmy reputation?” Genevieve scoffed, her eyes flashing with contempt. “Is that what you call it? What is the difference between utilizingitand usingme?”
Wilhelm’s eyes softened. “It was merely a means to an end, Genevieve,” he explained regretfully. “I never intended to hurt you.”
Genevieve’s gaze wavered, and her chest tightened as the words trembled on her lips. She swallowed hard as the rawness of her emotions caught in her throat.
“You… I cannot believe…” She stopped, at a loss for words.
Utterly frustrated, she clenched her hands into tight fists.
“You… you did not mean to hurt me,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes searched his face desperately, hoping for even the faintest glimmer of regret, of humanity, of anything that might soften the sharp edges of his betrayal.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and she took a shaky breath. “But you did.” Her voice cracked, the words heavy with sorrow as she dropped her gaze to the floor, her shoulders trembling. “Deeply.”
Wilhelm’s expression remained unreadable, though his jaw clenched. He inclined his head, his voice low and calm. “I did what needed to be done.”
