My Bratty Wife

Ryan, his expression serious, lowered his quill, his eyes fixed on Evan. "Enough with the pretense, cousin. Why are you here? What do you want?"

Evan, his face a mask of innocence, returned a wry smile. "Am I no longer welcome in Carleton?"

Ryan remained silent, his expression hardening. Evan’s smile faltered, replaced by a pretend hurt. "Have I been cast out of the Blackmore family, just like my mother?"

Ryan’s voice was cold. "You know exactly what I mean. Since your mother’s passing, you’ve been a stranger here, you stopped coming to Carleton. You only returned for Father’s funeral, and then vanished. It’s only natural that I’m suspicious of your sudden reappearance."

Evan’s sly grin returned. "Ah, Ryan, the uptight Duke. The man bound by tradition, rules, and regulations. A man who would follow them to his grave." He paused, his gaze turning pitying. "I hear a certain damsel has softened your rigid heart."

Evan chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "The same perspective your father worked tirelessly to instill in you. The perspective he fought tooth and nail to ensure you would be like him, to inherit: the Grand Duke of Carleton."

A tense silence filled the room. The air crackled with unspoken words, the tension palpable. Ryan’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped the quill.

Evan, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Or perhaps," he drawled, "you are slowly drowning from the storm brewing in your own life."

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "What do you mean by that? What do you know about my life, Evan?"

Evan shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. "Oh, I know a thing or two. After all, I’ve been watching from the sidelines since childhood, haven’t I?"