The Criswell's Curse

“Father!” Amanda opened the study’s room door with a loud bang, not caring about the guest inside. Her blue eyes saw a tall, bulky man wearing a pearly mask, adorned with some traces of golden paint around. At the top, two small ears mimicking a bunny popped out.

Displeased by the abrupt interruption, the Duke waved his hand in the air and the unknown man quickly left, not uttering a single word. “What is it, Amanda? Shouldn’t you be at the ball?”

“Who’s he?” Curiosity got the best of her. She had never seen such a suspicious looking individual.

Ignoring her impertinent question, Alvin grabbed the reins of the conversation with his bitter tone. “Answer my question.”

After today’s events, Amanda knew something had to be done. Ophelia needed to be punished, to live the rest of her life in misery, to suffer the same way her envious heart had to. For the first time in her life, the vivid hatred burned further than any lustful desires on men or material wealth.

“She was there! She... she copied my dress!” The young girl’s eyes shun brightly, threatening to drip their fluids at once. “I was completely humiliated, Father!”

Alvin’s hands slowly massaged his forehead, his torso leaned back into the luxurious chair. To him, this was nothing but another tantrum. “I understand you are upset, dear, but we cannot be hasty...”

“Hasty!?” Amanda’s hands clenched the dress between her fingers, her muscles all tensed up. “Bradley ignored me and if it weren’t for that Wharton boy, that bitch would’ve had her first dance with him!” Hurriedly, she ripped apart a red handkerchief, hiding the cut on her wrist. “Look! She even tried to kill me! We need to do something!”

“What did you just say?” Alvin thought he had heard wrong. “Are you sure of your words?”

“Yes! She is a threat to my life!”

“You useless girl... with that body of yours, how can’t you even keep a man!? How come, every time you have to do something for me, you fuck it up, uh Amanda?”

The girl’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. Out of everything she said, that’s what he was concerned about? What about her life, her well-being? Were those things... disposable to him?

“Indeed... we have to do something...” Returning to his calm, rational demeanor, the Duke removed a new quill from his drawer. Swiftly yet gracefully, his fingers began writing each word carefully. “Tomorrow I will talk to Carlyle. We’ll move up the wedding.”

Amanda’s sadness quickly turned to excitement. This wasn’t the type of vengeance she was hoping to attain, but it was better than nothing. Bradley wouldn’t fawn over her sister anymore, not with the pressure from his father.

Noticing a redness in his daughter’s face, the Duke frowned. “Your cheek. What happened? Was it your sister?”

She swallowed down hard. “Yes, it was Ophelia.”

“Get some rest then.” Regaining his focus, Alvin returned to his calm self, rumbling through the stack of papers piled up on his desk.

Knowing her moment had reached its end, Amanda bobbed her head and walked out the door with a grin stretching from ear to ear. Contrary to what the naive girl thought, Alvin was far more concerned than he led on.

Even with a wedding date settled, months would still go by and, knowing Carlyle, Bradley’s father, the calls weren’t up to him. That man loved control more than anything in the world, even his own children. To make it work, Alvin would’ve to swallow his pride and give him something he would love to attain.

She’s still underage... He clicked his tongue.

Ophelia was turning to be a complete wildcard. He couldn’t just marry her off, not until she turned 16. Even if he tried to do some scheme, the righteous Duke Wharton wouldn’t let it slide. Regardless of the route he took, counter measures needed to be implemented or he was bound to lose everything he had strived so hard to achieve.