Even the Devil Regrets it - Chapter 102

Just then, the nanny slowly opened her eyes.

“Young Master, what are you doing down there? You can’t sleep?”

Ithan, worried she might take the bottle from him, instinctively held it tighter. The glass vial was small enough to fit easily in his hand.

The nanny picked him up and placed him back on the bed. As she tried to get him to rest again, the door creaked open.

It was Tristan. Even though it was still daytime, the strong smell of alcohol surrounded him.

“V… Viscount,” the nanny said in a flustered voice as she quickly stood.

Tristan didn’t visit Ithan often, but sometimes he would show up like this. Today, for some reason, he had come after drinking.

“You came to see the young master. I’ll bring some refreshments so the two of you can spend time together.”

The nanny bowed and left the room quickly. She had been frightened of Tristan ever since she once saw him act violently while drunk.

Tristan didn’t care what the nanny thought. He moved slowly toward the bed, his steps unsteady. He stared down at his son, who was now almost two years old.

The boy had inherited Tristan’s dark hair and Aileen’s vivid eyes. There was something in the child’s face that reminded him of himself.

Tristan didn’t feel a deep bond with his son, but he didn’t dislike him either. After all, the boy was his own flesh and blood.

Weighed down by frustration over their failing family and drunk on liquor, Tristan had come to see the child on impulse. He had heard Aileen was out, so he hadn’t thought twice about it.

Ever since the trade ship to the Western Continent sank and the Barnett family lost everything, his relationship with Aileen had grown cold. If not for Ithan, they might as well have been strangers.

“Ithan,” Tristan called, standing with one hand in his pocket.

Ithan looked up and met his father’s eyes, then suddenly started hiccuping.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Tristan frowned. The boy’s reaction bothered him. He wasn’t drunk enough to ignore it, and it touched a nerve.

He knew he had not done his part as a father. The guilt stung, and he let out a deep, tired sigh.

Just then, the nanny returned with a tray. She placed cookies, bread, and a drink on the table near the window and gave a respectful bow.

“I’ll step outside so the two of you can enjoy your time together.”

She left quickly, clearly using the moment as an excuse to escape. Tristan didn’t care enough to stop her.

Spending some quiet time with his son over snacks didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He slipped his hands under Ithan’s arms and lifted him up, carrying him to the small sofa.

“Drink. You can’t hiccup forever.”

Tristan pushed the glass of juice toward Ithan. The boy reached for it, naturally setting the small bottle he had been holding onto the table.

“What’s this?”

Tristan picked up the bottle with a puzzled look. The label read Vanilla Oil.

He clicked his tongue softly. It seemed the child had already taken after his mother in taste.

He remembered how much Aileen had loved vanilla. Whenever she had desserts with that scent, she would hum happily and look genuinely pleased.

There was a time when her soft smile and playful glances had made her irresistible to him.

But now things were different. Somehow, everything had fallen apart. Lost in the memory, Tristan rubbed his jaw slowly.

Trying to push aside the thoughts in his head, he casually opened the bottle and drizzled some of it over the cookies for Ithan.

The sweet scent quickly filled the room.

“Here, your favorite cookie.”

When Tristan offered the cookie, Ithan smiled brightly and took it with both hands. He happily munched on it, enjoying every bite. Watching his son eat so cheerfully made Tristan curious about the taste himself.

He normally didn’t care for sweet things like cookies, but he figured sharing one in front of his son might not be a bad idea.

It tasted better than he expected. He ended up eating the entire cookie without even realizing it.

It felt like he had finally shared something meaningful with his son. The moment left him with a strange, unfamiliar sense of warmth.

Just then, Aileen returned from her outing. As soon as she heard that Tristan and Ithan were alone in the room, she rushed to the bedroom in a panic.

Tristan had never shown much interest in Ithan before. What could possibly have brought this on? Was something wrong?

A strange sense of dread crept up her spine as she pushed the door open.

“You came back earlier than I expected.”

Tristan spoke casually when he saw her. Aileen blinked rapidly, startled to see such a peaceful scene. Father and son sat together, as if enjoying a normal moment.

“Come sit with us.”

Tristan nodded toward the table. It had been a long time since his tone wasn’t sharp or irritated.

“Mommy!”

Ithan smiled at her brightly. Still dazed and unsure what to think, Aileen slowly approached the table.

For a brief second, strange thoughts flickered through her mind. A normal home. A loving family. Moments of peace and happiness.

But then her eyes fell on a small glass bottle sitting on the table, and her body froze in place.

Tristan noticed her staring and gave a short laugh.

“Oh, that? Ithan was holding it. I guess he already shares your taste…”

She didn’t hear the rest.

Aileen’s face turned completely pale as she shouted in horror.

“Did you eat that?”

“Of course I did…”

Tristan began answering with a puzzled look, but then he suddenly let out a low grunt and clutched his chest.

At the same time, Ithan began to cry.

“My baby! Ithan!”

Aileen ran toward him like she had lost her mind. As she reached him, Ithan suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

“No… please, no…”

She cupped her hands to catch the blood, her voice shaking with helpless, broken sobs.

The poison she had bought in secret was known for its sweet scent, which made it nearly impossible to detect. Wealthy nobles often used it for quiet assassinations. To avoid suspicion, Aileen had placed a label on the bottle that read “Vanilla Oil” and hidden it well.

The poison did not act immediately. It usually took twenty to thirty minutes before symptoms appeared, which made it even more dangerous.

She had hidden it where no one should have found it. How did it end up on the table? How had Ithan gotten to it?

There was no time to think. Her mind was spinning and her hands were shaking. Ithan’s tiny body went limp in her arms.

“No… my baby, my Ithan…”

She held him tightly, her entire body trembling. His blood had soaked her clothes. Her arms and chest were covered in it.

A harsh cough broke the silence beside her.

Aileen slowly turned her head toward the sound, her whole body shaking with dread.

Tristan was covering his mouth, but blood was slipping through his fingers in thin streams.

“Why? Why is this happening? What… what is this?”

He gasped as he spoke, and from his wide, terrified eyes, blood began to fall like tears.

“Tristan, I… I didn’t…”

Aileen mumbled, her mind barely holding on.

She couldn’t understand. Why were both her husband and her son coughing up blood? How had they both ended up consuming what was inside that glass bottle?

“Khak… kuh!”

Tristan choked again, this time coughing up a heavy mouthful of blood. His hand gripped his chest tightly as he collapsed, slowly sinking to the floor.

“No, no, this can’t be happening…”

Aileen screamed and tried to catch him. But with Ithan still cradled in her arms, she could barely move.

Her shaking hand reached for Tristan’s arm, but his body was already slumped under the sofa, motionless.

“My baby… Ithan… please open your eyes! Tristan, get up! Please, get up!”

She desperately shook them both, going back and forth, trying to wake them. Neither of them responded. They were completely still.

A piercing scream tore from her throat, echoing through the mansion.

What had started as a peaceful midday tea had turned into a scene soaked in blood and horror. It was too awful to look at.

Servants rushed in after hearing her scream but froze at the doorway, stunned by what they saw.

The Barnett estate had turned into hell in an instant.

The family physician arrived soon after, having been summoned in a panic. He checked Ithan and Tristan, then slowly shook his head.

There was nothing he could do. Their hearts had already stopped. Unless a miracle occurred, they were gone for good.

“What? What are you saying happened?”

The Countess of Barnett forced her way through the gathered crowd, her face ghostly pale. When she saw her son and grandson lying lifeless in pools of blood, she collapsed on the spot.

“No… no… ha… hahahaha…”

Aileen, who had been crawling on the floor, let out a low groan, then began to laugh like someone who had lost her mind.

The servants stepped back, one by one, realizing that the Barnett family’s end had come.

Support Even the Devil Regrets it