Part 2When Dusk Fades, No Path to Cross

Now, Eleanor herself had arranged for antique porcelain vases, worth a fortune, to decorate Aiden’s birthday party. Every detail was meticulously planned. But I had no desire to watch any further. Several times, I almost lost control and charged in. I wanted to appear before Eleanor, slap her hard across the face. I wanted to demand why she had deceived me for three years, all because I made Aiden a manservant for three days. I wanted to show Eleanor all the wounds I had suffered, all the scars on my body, over these three years.

But in the end, I did nothing.

I watched Eleanor, who was supposed to be released from prison in three days, dressed in an expensive designer gown, like a powerful female CEO. She had thrown a grand and respectable birthday party specifically for her male assistant, inviting friends from their circle to celebrate and wishing Aiden a spoiled birthday. Then, I turned around expressionlessly and returned to my cramped, underground rental.

It was dark and damp, and I had lived there for three years. The bathroom was right outside the door, the walls covered in years of accumulated mold, constantly emanating a foul smell. I remembered when I first moved in, I was nauseous to the point of vomiting every day. For the first twenty-five years of my life, I lived in luxury, the privileged eldest son of the esteemed Blackwood family, never knowing hardship. I was an internationally renowned painter, accumulating numerous international awards. At the height of my success, I was even pursued and proposed to by Eleanor Brooks, the eldest daughter of the Brooks family. After marriage, I effortlessly lived the life of a “winner.”

Until Eleanor hired a timid and gentle male assistant named Aiden. He was the son of my family’s housekeeper, yet he constantly tried to compete with me. His clothes weren’t as luxurious as mine, so he would retort that I was a frivolous pretty boy. His abilities weren’t as strong as mine, so he would gossip behind my back that I only succeeded because of my birth or because of women. He even deliberately sought to become Eleanor’s assistant, and never stopped badmouthing me to her, saying how I bullied his housekeeper mother at home, ruined his clothes, and even made him kneel as a manservant.

I believed that the truth would speak for itself and never paid these things any mind. But then came that day. I had finally completed a painting I had worked on for two full years. Just as I was about to frame it, I stepped out for a moment, only to return and find it splattered with ink. Aiden stood nearby, holding the ink bottle, a smug look on his face. “Didn’t you spend two whole years on that painting? Let’s see how you'll impress Eleanor without it.”

I was furious that time. I threw a punch that landed squarely on his face. “Didn’t you always spread rumors that I made you a manservant? Well, for these three days, you can properly be my manservant and clean my art studio.” Just then, the door was pushed open, and a figure burst in. Eleanor frowned, shielding Aiden behind her. “Arthur Blackwood, can’t you control your privileged temper?” “Aiden tries so hard. He may not have a good background, but why do you always target him?” My chest heaved with anger. “Eleanor, get this straight, he was the one who…”

Before I could finish, Aiden, playing the victim, hid behind Eleanor, looking terribly wronged. “Eleanor, it’s all my fault. I wanted to help Mr. Blackwood clean his studio, but I accidentally stained his painting. He said he’d sell me to a club as a gigolo, and called my mom a cheap tramp who raised a little tramp.” He spoke tearfully and pitifully. Eleanor didn’t even ask me or investigate; she just believed him outright. She looked at me coldly. “Arthur Blackwood, what’s happened to you? I’m so disappointed.” I was even more enraged. Even with Eleanor trying to persuade me, I insisted that Aiden serve as a manservant for three days.

On the last day, Eleanor acted as if nothing had happened, merely sighing lightly. “Arthur, when will you ever get rid of that temper? It’s just a painting.” “Alright, you’ve vented your anger now, let’s just put this behind us.” I was naive enough to believe that it was truly over. But days later, news broke of Eleanor’s company’s bankruptcy. Eleanor herself was soon imprisoned, leaving a huge mess for me to deal with.

Initially, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Even if the Brooks family went bankrupt, I still had my parents. I called them immediately, but their numbers were all disconnected. I completely panicked. I rushed home to find them, only to be told by the butler that they had hurried back upon hearing about the Brooks family’s troubles, but were caught in a landslide on the way and both perished. Overnight, my world collapsed. With no parents or wife to rely on, I had no choice but to sell our property and move into a damp basement. To escape gambling debts, I barely slept. They even found my basement, a group of people barging in with sticks and beating me. Two of my ribs were broken, and my wrist was shattered, rendering me unable to hold a paintbrush again. It took me three years to accept my fate, giving up everything just to survive.

But now, I’m told that it was all a lie. Eleanor, with her punishment, had stripped me down to the bone, transforming me completely. Just then, my phone rang. It was from Eleanor. “Arthur, I’m getting out of prison in three days. Don’t forget to pick me up.”