The bathroom door was locked, and inside Dylan's room, the strains of the "Symphony of Fate" played once again.
The Cunninghams knew that their young master liked playing this piece, but they didn't know that every time he did, he was using the sweeping and dramatic melody to mask a certain sound.
For three years, he had hated her, but their relationship, with its unspeakable nature, hadn't prevented them from being together.
Even the usually sensitive Mrs. Cunningham had never suspected it. In her eyes, her son, who was involved with women all over the world, wouldn't have any feelings for Eliana, a mere Cunningham Family dog. However, the truth was quite different.
As the music ended, everything came to a halt.
"Get out... don't dirty my place," but it was only when that music played that his eyes revealed a barely perceptible tenderness. After the passion, he transformed back into the ruthless man he usually was. He even looked at Eliana with disdain.
"If you despise me so much, why bother?" Eliana felt wronged, and she didn't know where she found the courage to rebel against this tyrant after three years of submission.
"What did you say? Say it again," Dylan was greatly surprised by this. The woman who had always obediently endured him was now rebelling? He grabbed her arms.
"I said, since you hate me so much, why bother touching me? I'm just fine being a dog of the Cunningham Family; I don't want to be yours..." Eliana's words were an insult to herself and, in a way, to Dylan. What was he to her if she were that kind of woman?
"You don't want it anymore? But don't forget that it was you who knelt before me, begging for the safety of your family. Eliana, I can do whatever I want to you. You are the Cunningham Family's dog, and you shouldn't have any complaints!" He finished speaking and then, as if she were a lifeless dog, pushed her out of the bathroom.
A minute ago, they were lost in passion, and now she was back to wearing the humble clothing of a Cunningham Family servant, kneeling on the floor, cleaning. This was Eliana's life, an unbreakable cycle of misery.
In the long nights, loneliness crept in easily. In the daytime, Eliana said those words to him, and they echoed in his ears.
"Yeah, if you dislike her so much, why?"
With a glass of red wine in his hand, Dylan felt an inexplicable emptiness creep over him. Eliana's words from earlier in the day lingered in his mind.
"Indeed, why should I?" he muttered to himself, staring out of the window at the night. His gaze focused on a particular spot in the backyard.
It was Eliana's room, if it could even be called that, a small, run-down room amidst the Cunningham Family's opulent estate. She lived in the smallest and most decrepit space of them all.
For three years, Eliana had worked tirelessly day and night. During the day, she was overwhelmed with work, and at night, she could only tend to her wounds in solitude.
Dim lighting, cheap ointments, and countless fresh wounds and old scars that made every touch painful. Even someone with the heart of stone would find it difficult to endure.
The dilapidated door suddenly swung open without warning, and Eliana didn't have time to put on her clothes before a person entered, seeing her exposed.
"Dy... Why are you here?" She panicked, grabbing the clothes from her bed, but before she could put them on, the man pulled them away.
"Everything in the Cunningham Family belongs to me. Why shouldn't I come in?" Dylan said coldly, showing no trace of compassion.
Eliana felt bitter. Yes, everything belonged to him, even herself.
"It's not what you think; it's just that my place is so shabby and dirty. I don't want to taint your eyes."
"Does it still hurt?"
"Eh?" Suddenly, Dylan's question left Eliana puzzled.
After three years of relentless abuse by Mrs. Cunningham, how could she not be in pain? Every bruise and scar was vividly etched in her memory, but she managed to suppress her discomfort.