Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 271 - Two Hundred And Seventy

It had been a month since Carlos Punishment at the Thompson estate. A month of silence. A month of pain.

The heavy iron of prince Liam’s gates creaked open. A solitary figure walked through them.

It was Carlos.

He looked nothing like the arrogant young master who came the last time to deliver good news. He was a broken man. He leaned heavily on a crude wooden crutch, his left leg dragging slightly with every step. The fifty lashes from the Royal Guard and the thirty from the family had left him scarred and stiff.

His face was thin, his cheeks hollow, and his eyes were darting around with the nervous energy of a hunted animal.

He limped across the courtyard. The royal guards watched him with open contempt, but they let him pass. He had an appointment.

He reached the main hall. He struggled up the few stone steps, wincing as his healing back stretched and pulled. He pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.

The room was warm, smelling of expensive sandalwood incense and roasted meat.

Prince Liam sat in his high-backed chair on the dais. He looked relaxed, almost bored. He held a small, delicate porcelain cup in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a slow sip.

Carlos hobbled to the center of the room. He let go of his crutch, letting it clatter to the floor. He lowered himself painfully to his knees, bowing his head until it touched the cold stone.

"Your Highness," Carlos rasped. His voice was rusty.

Liam lowered the cup. He looked at the man groveling on the floor. He smiled, but it was a smile devoid of warmth.

"Recovered so quickly?" Liam asked. His voice was smooth, echoing in the large hall. "After all those beatings? I heard Derek’s guards were quite... enthusiastic."

Liam took another sip, his eyes mocking.

"I expected a longer convalescence," He finished. "I expected you to be in bed for a year. Or perhaps dead in a ditch."

Carlos flinched. He kept his head down. He was trembling. Not just from the pain in his legs, but from fear. He had failed the Prince. He had failed the mission. He was useless.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Carlos whispered. "I have broken your trust. I failed you. I deserve punishment. I know I am unworthy to be in your presence."

He raised his head slightly. His eyes were desperate, pleading.

"I just beg for one more chance," Carlos pleaded. "Please. Do not discard me. I can still be useful."

The request hung in the air.

Liam’s expression darkened. The boredom vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp flash of anger.

"One more chance?" Liam repeated softly.

He looked at the cup in his hand. Then he looked at Carlos.

With a sudden, violent motion, he threw it.

The cup flew across the room. It was a blur of white ceramic. It struck Carlos directly in the face, right above his eye.

Smash.

The porcelain shattered against Carlos’s brow. Hot tea splashed over his face, scalding his skin. A sharp shard of the cup cut his flesh.

"Ah!" Carlos cried out, covering his face with his hands.

He pulled his hand away. His fingers were wet with tea and blood. A trickle of red ran down his forehead, mixing with the sweat of his fear. It dripped onto the floor.

Liam stood up. He walked down the steps of the dais, looming over the broken man.

"What use is a cripple to me?" Liam asked coldly

He looked at Carlos’s twisted leg. He looked at his shaking hands.

"You couldn’t kill him when you were healthy," Liam sneered. "You couldn’t lead an army when you had money. Now you are broke, broken, and banished. You are garbage, Carlos. You are a waste of my time."

Carlos wiped the blood from his eye. He panicked. He couldn’t lose Liam’s support. If Liam turned on him, he was truly dead. He had nowhere else to go.

"Calm your anger, Your Highness!" Carlos cried out, scrambling backward on his knees. "Please! I know I am weak! I know I failed!"

He held up his bloody hands.

"But I have prepared an atonement gift for you," Carlos said quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "A gift that will make up for everything. A gift you cannot refuse."

He looked up at the Prince, his eyes pleading.

"I implore you for another chance," Carlos begged. "Just look at the gift. If you don’t like it... you can kill me then."

Liam stopped. He laughed. It was a cruel, incredulous sound that bounced off the walls.

"You?" Liam asked. "You have nothing.You are a beggar."

Liam crossed his arms over his chest.

"What rarity could you possibly offer?" Liam asked. "What do you have that is worthy of my glance? A stolen horse? A bag of copper coins?"

Carlos struggled to stand. He grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up painfully. He wiped the blood from his face again. He forced a smile. It was a grotesque, desperate smile.

"Bring it in!" Carlos shouted to the door.

The heavy doors opened again. Two of Liam’s own guards walked in. Carlos had bribed them with the very last of his hidden savings to help him carry the load.

They were carrying a large, heavy wooden trunk. It was a travel trunk, painted black, with brass fittings. It looked heavy.

They set it down in the center of the room.

Thud.

Carlos gestured to the trunk with his shaking hand.

"Your Highness," Carlos said. "Please. Have a look."

Liam looked at the trunk. He was curious despite himself. It was big enough to hold a person.

"Very well," Liam said.

He walked to the trunk. He didn’t hurry. He unlatched the heavy brass lock. He threw the lid open.

Liam froze. His eyes went wide.

He wasn’t looking at gold. He wasn’t looking at weapons. He wasn’t looking at art.

He was looking at a woman.

Curled inside the trunk, sleeping on a pile of velvet cushions, was Ashlyn.

She was dressed in a beautiful, sheer nightgown of pale pink silk. Her dark hair was spread out around her like a halo. Her face was peaceful, relaxed in deep sleep. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, deep rhythm.

It was Carlos’s own wife.

Liam stared. The surprise vanished from his face. A slow, dark chuckle bubbled up from his throat.

He looked at Carlos.

"This..." Liam said, pointing into the box.

"This is my wife," Carlos said. His voice was flat, detached. "Ashlyn Thompson."

He looked at the woman in the box. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it down. She was the one who had pushed him to be a commander. She was the one who had started the schemes. It was her fault he was in this mess. It was only right she helped him get out of it.

"I gave her something," Carlos explained quickly. "A sleeping draught in her wine before I left. To make her unconscious. That is why she is like that. She won’t wake up until morning."

Liam looked at Carlos. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Carlos," Liam said softly. "I underestimated you."

He walked around the trunk, inspecting the prize.

"You are truly despicable," Liam said. It sounded like a compliment. "You would sell your own wife? The woman who stood by you?"

Carlos looked away. He looked at the floor.

"She wanted power," Carlos muttered. "Now she can be with the most powerful man in the kingdom."

Liam looked back at the unconscious Ashlyn. He scanned her body. The sheer gown hid very little. He saw the curve of her waist. He saw the pale skin of her neck. She was beautiful.

He reached out.

His hand traced her figure in her dress. He ran his fingers lightly over her hip. She didn’t move. She just breathed, unaware that she had been traded like cattle.

Liam smiled. It was a cold, hungry smile. He liked this gift. It was twisted. It was forbidden. It was a way to dirty the Thompson name even further. To take the brother’s wife as a plaything.

"This gift," Liam said, his voice low and satisfied. "I accept wholeheartedly."

He looked at Carlos. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"You have bought yourself another chance, Carlos," Liam said.

He waved his hand toward the door.

"Get out," Liam ordered.

Carlos bowed low. He felt a wave of relief so strong it almost made him dizzy. He had done it. He was safe. He had a patron again.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Carlos said.

He turned and limped toward the door, the sound of his crutch echoing.

He didn’t look back at the trunk. He didn’t look back at his wife.

He walked out of the hall and into the cool night air. The guards closed the doors behind him.

Carlos stopped in the courtyard. He breathed in the fresh air. He touched the cut on his forehead. It was still bleeding, but he didn’t care.

He started to walk toward the gate. As he walked, he began to whisper to himself. He needed to hear the words. He needed to make it okay.

"I had no choice," Carlos muttered to the darkness.

He limped faster.

"She pushed me," he said, his voice gaining conviction. "She wanted power. She wanted a title. Now she is with the future King. Isn’t that what she wanted? Power? I gave her what she wanted."

He nodded to himself, trying to convince his own heart that he had done the right thing.

"She will be happy," Carlos lied to himself. "She will be a royal mistress. It is better than being the wife of an exile."

He reached the gate. He walked through it, leaving the estate behind.

"I did it for us," he whispered. "I did it to survive."

Inside the residence, the trunk lid was closed. And Prince Liam carried his new prize into the inner chambers.