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Eileen remembered her childhood well.
The memories associated with Cesare were particularly vivid, for all of them were happy moments.
But among them was one that stood out with special clarity.
"Eileen."
The darkness parted, and she heard a voice calling her.
Eileen, who had been crying, looked toward the light.
Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, finally adapted, and Cesare stood before her.
In that moment, the twelve-year-old Eileen experienced the most complex and overwhelming feeling of her short life.
Unable to organize the chaotic thoughts swarming in her head, she asked him a strange question:
"Why did you come?.."
Not "thank you," but "why did you come." A truly foolish question.
To this meaningless remark, Cesare slowly closed and opened his eyes.
"I don't know myself."
He looked intently at Eileen.
His gaze was as if fixed on an incomprehensible creature.
His calm red eyes swayed with feelings that little Eileen couldn't recognize.
Cesare, as if not understanding himself, murmured:
"Why did I come?"
After watching her a bit longer, he silently knelt.
He untied the ropes binding Eileen and pulled her to him.
Eileen hugged Cesare with all her might.
Because of the long time in captivity, her hands didn't obey her.
With trembling fingers, she clutched the edge of his clothing.
Although it seemed to her she was clutching with all her might, in reality they were only weak scratching movements of her nails against the fabric.
Cesare softly wrapped her little hand in his palm.
Massaging the cramping fingers, he said indifferently:
"Let's go home."
The Prince, according to rumors, had gone to war—how did he end up here?
Even her parents and the police hadn't been able to find her—how had he tracked her down?
Was she so important to him that he would rush headlong?
There were many questions, but not one did she dare ask.
Losing consciousness, she woke up already at home.
It was rumored that Cesare, having returned to the palace, went back to the battlefield again.
It was worrying whether he was allowed to move so freely during the war, but the military refused to explain anything.
Eileen, left with unresolved questions, drew the events of that day in detail in her diary.
The image of the Prince, like a ray of light in pitch-black darkness.
"Prince..."
Eileen groaned, opening her eyes.
But the world around was blurry.
She blinked several times to clear her vision.
Gradually, the outlines emerged.
It was an old house.
Apparently long unused—the furniture was covered with white sheets, and the floor was covered with a layer of dust.
Only the moonlight from the window and a small oil lamp in the distance illuminated the room.
Eileen put a hand to her forehead.
A slight dizziness still hadn't passed.
Although she knew from medical books that pressure on the carotid artery could lead to loss of consciousness, it was hard to believe from her own experience.
Running her hand over her face, she discovered with alarm the absence of her glasses.
She must have lost them when she was being dragged.
She felt defenseless—as if deprived of her last shield.
Her chest tightened from tension and fear.
At that moment, the door burst open with a noise, and about ten people tumbled into the house.
"Oh, she’s awake."
The man, seemingly the leader, smirked, looking at Eileen.
With an arrogant appearance, he approached and haughtily looked her up and down.
Eileen, still sitting on the floor, raised her eyes to him and spoke:
"I don't know what you want..." Striving not to stumble, she clearly pronounced every word.
"But you know.
His Grace the Grand Duke is a cold-blooded man.
Even if it’s about the woman who will become the Grand Duchess, he won't make unjustified sacrifices for negotiations.
He’d rather choose another wife."
Before Cesare's obvious enemy, Eileen lowered her own value.
"I am a useless hostage."
The man snorted.
Leaning on one leg, he said: "I thought so too, but it seems I was wrong." And then he gave something unthinkable: "They say Cesare deserted because of you."
*Deserted?*
Hearing this for the first time, she opened her eyes wide.
But the man didn't bother with explanations.
Continuing to sniffle, he added: "Actually, I don't need anything from you.
I just want to spite him."
He crouched down and spat on the floor.
"That bastard ruined my life, and now he must lose something important.
It’s only fair." His eyes, overflowing with malice, already glowed with an unhealthy madness.
"Well then, Eileen."
Eileen remembered Cesare.
She remembered the lessons received after the kidnapping at twelve.
*"If you find yourself in the hands of ill-wishers and feel that something bad could happen—do not resist.
Keep calm."*
He had warned that provocation would lead to even greater danger.
From bad to worse.
For example, to death.
Or to irreparable damage to the body.
But contrary to the intimidation, Cesare had finished softly but firmly: *"But I promise—that won't happen.
If you wait patiently, I will come and save you."*
He had said he would arrive in time so that nothing bad would happen, and so that she wouldn't resist alone.
Trembling all over, Eileen repeated his words over and over.
He would surely come.
If she waited—he would come and save her.
But contrary to firm faith, her body had already fully submitted to fear.
The man pushed the trembling Eileen, rolled her onto her back, and began to deal with the belt of her trousers.
Undoing the belt, he broke into profanity.
Casting a dissatisfied glance at her, he murmured:
"Damn it, how can you even get it up for this?
Cesare apparently has crap taste.
To fall for something like this." He gestured for the others to come: "At least get her hair out of the way.
It’s not arousing at all."
Two men approached and grabbed Eileen by the arms.
They lifted and roughly threw back the strand covering her face.
"..."
In that same moment, silence reigned in the old house.
Eileen immediately turned away, but coarse fingers dug into her chin.
The man looked at her with disbelief.
Stunned, he murmured:
"Now I see why so much was paid for her..."
The movement of his hand squeezing her chin changed.
Sticky fingers slid over her cheek, rubbed her earlobe.
He smirked.
"Don't cry, all right?
Since it turned out this way, let's have some pleasure."
Eileen, tightly compressing her lips, stared at him.
Even if... no, such a thing would not happen... but even if Cesare did not come to save her...
She would not do anything that would shame him.
She would not show that these scoundrels had achieved their goal by shaming the Grand Duke’s woman.
Suppressing the scream tearing its way out, she grit her teeth.
Just at the moment when the man, emitting excited groans, tried to touch her lips...
"Eileen."
A voice sounded, as if in her head.
Eileen called out with all her might:
"Your Grace..."
As in those childhood years at twelve.
The call, breaking through a throat gripped by fear, was quiet and weak.
But it was enough.
*BANG!*
A shot shattered the night silence.
With each new volley, the kidnappers fell as if mowed down.
The old house filled with terrible screams.
Bleeding people writhed on the floor, clutching their shot legs.
Those holding Eileen by her sides squirmed like worms.
The only one who remained unharmed was the man directly in front of Eileen.
"F-ck!.."
He dragged her, using her as a human shield, and backed away.
The shots ceased; footsteps were heard.
*BANG!* The door, mangled by bullets, flew off its hinges from a blow.
A long shadow from a person in the doorway covered Eileen and the man.
The owner of the shadow, standing with his back to the moonlight, was Cesare.