Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 3: Conflict of interest

As Ruelle approached her house, anxiety twisted in her stomach at the sight of the open door. Uncertainty gnawed at her. She was not only late, but she had also failed to bring the expected money.

Nervous, she stepped inside and immediately spotted the debt collector lounging on the sofa, his feet propped carelessly on the coffee table. A surge of panic coursed through her, but it quickly gave way to relief when she saw her father.

"Elle is back home!" Caroline exclaimed, relief mingling with a nervous smile.

"Finally!" The debt collector clicked his tongue, and swung his legs off the table, rising as if he owned the space beneath the very roof that sheltered them. "Let's see how much money your measly sweaters brought in now, shall we? Bring the money forward."

Ruelle's fingers tightened around the gunny bag. When she hesitated, Mrs. Belmont furrowed her brow, her gaze shifting to the bag that looked fuller than expected. "Did you not visit the Cliffords?" she asked.

"I did..." Ruelle's voice trembled, fear crawling through her.

"Hm?" The debt collector's eyes raked over her, narrowing as they fell upon the gunny bag. "What is this?" Without waiting for a response, he snatched the bag from her grip and dumped its contents onto the floor.

Mrs. Belmont gasped, her hand clapping instinctively over her mouth as the drenched and dirty sweaters lay exposed. Caroline's mouth fell open, confused and shocked, struggling to comprehend how their efforts had unravelled so swiftly.

"What did you do, Ruelle?" Her father's voice sliced through the air, sharp and unforgiving like a bitter chill.

"I don't care what happened," the debt collector sighed in exasperation, clearly irritated by the familial drama. He turned to his henchmen with a dismissive wave. "Take everything from here and put it in the carriage. Take his daughters, too."

"NO!" Mrs. Belmont screamed, desperation reflecting in her wild eyes as she stepped protectively in front of Caroline.

"You are already planning to take everything valuable! Leave my family alone!" Mr. Belmont shouted in desperation. But the debt collector only laughed—a cold, humourless sound that reverberated through the room.

As the men began rifling through the meagre possessions, Ruelle felt the burden of guilt and responsibility pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her heart thudded wildly as despair washed over her. Just as the men prepared to step out with their meagre valuables, a tall figure blocked their path. His straight blond hair gleamed under the dim light, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"If you are here to collect debt, stand in line and wait your turn until we are done," the debt collector said, clicking his tongue, irritation flickering in his dark eyes.

The stranger's gaze surveyed the worried faces around him before settling on Ruelle, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. For him, everything faded, leaving only the flickering candlelight that danced over her innocence, glimmering with fear but also an undeniable spark in his heart.

Breaking his gaze from her, the stranger stepped inside, his movements fluid and deliberate. "I was wondering what the ruckus was all about." He turned to Mr. Belmont, offering a respectful bow, before turning to the debt collector. "And pray tell, how much does this gentleman owe you?"

"Six and a half silver coins," the debt collector replied, his tone dismissive and haughty. "What are you going to do knowing about it?"

pocket. He produced two gold coins, their surfaces glinting like beacons of hope amidst the despair. "I have only two gold coins, but I am hoping it will be enough for them

his eyes as he snatched the coins with a triumphant smile. "Fine. You'd better be prepared for the next payment next

the remaining family members exhaled in unison, the weight

aiding us. My family and I are ever so grateful for your help today when you didn't have to intervene," Mr. Belmont said,

worry about it. It was merely by chance that I happened upon your house," the man replied, a slight smile curling his lips as he regarded Mrs. Belmont. "A person in need should always

saved us all. May I know your name,

slightly once more. His stature and demeanour spoke of groundswell dignity, a man who bore the

Belmont, and this is my husband, Harold Belmont. These are our daughters—Caroline

a prince in shining armour, Mr. Henley!" Caroline blurted out, her innocence unabashed and lacking

she offered him a respectful bow, her voice

just glad everything is resolved and that you can

seat, Mr. Henley?" Mrs. Belmont insisted,

right now and have somewhere to be. But I would like to return another time." His glance met Ruelle's again, a spark of interest lighting up his expression. "I dislike seeing good folks being harassed, and it's only right that I lend my support. Excuse me." With a slight bow, he turned and made his

if only slightly. They were safe for at least the next week, all thanks to Ezekiel Henley's generous nature. How fortunate they were that he had

father instructed, his voice clipped as if trying

carefully shutting it before securing the lock with a determined click. The moment she turned

into a sharp sting that spread like wildfire across her senses. For a

dare you ruin an entire month's efforts?" His words cut deep and sharp. He glared at her, fury radiating from him with an intensity that felt almost unreal—the heat of his rage igniting the tension in the room. "We give you one job, and you

as her head hung low, the weight of his disappointment pressing against her bones. "F—Father, the ground at the market was slippery. Due to the time

Mrs. Belmont interjected in annoyance. "It's always you, isn't it, Ruelle? Everything just seems to happen

her. It wasn't as if she had planned to fall, crushing their hopes with

hard enough, and you only make it worse!" Mrs. Belmont

raced as she attempted to apologise, her voice quaking with the tremors of her anxiety. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean for it to happen. I

be, even now." His gaze bore

wave of helplessness washed over her, with tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she looked up at him in stunned silence. The painful truth hung heavily in the air: her biological mother had passed away right after giving birth to her, and her father had always held her responsible, convinced that she had stolen the life of his

didn't linger in the living room. He stormed off to his bedroom, Mrs. Belmont hot on his heels like his

he would embrace her with open arms. Yet time and time again, the bloom of

rushed to Ruelle's side, concern lacing her voice. "Are you alright? Don't pay attention to Papa's words.

the first time, perhaps it wouldn't have hurt so much, but this was a pain woven into the fabric of her being, stitched into her since her childhood. Her father's ire

words, a smile struggling to form but slipping away. She looked down, avoiding Caroline's gaze. "I'm

her voice soft and warm.

now. We just need to wash the mud stains and sell the sweaters. They'll be as good