The Stepmother Sister Should Have a Happy Ending with Cinderella - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After bathing.

I wore a linen-cotton long skirt nightgown, knocked on Evelyn’s door, and dragged him out.

“Why aren’t you taking your medicine?”

The young boy’s long silver hair fell to his waist, water still dripping from the ends. Facing my question, he lowered his head apologetically.

“Sister, it’s too bitter.”

“No, you must take it.”

I didn’t want to wait until Count Henry returned from the palace banquet, then have to call a doctor for him, and then the visiting Godfather would fall in love at first sight, and engage in forced love in a corner of the estate.

Seeing my firm attitude,

Evelyn could only pick up the bowl on the table, looking reluctant, but took a deep breath and drank the medicine in one gulp, only to choke and start coughing violently.
His eyes held a mist of water, the corners slightly red and alluring.
He looked so weak and helpless, as if he could be bullied at will.
It didn’t inspire protectiveness, but rather made one want to bully him fiercely, to see him crying and begging for mercy helplessly.
No.
That’s exactly what the love interests in the original story liked about him.
I frowned, pinched his chin, examined him, and said with some dissatisfaction:
“Apart from me forcing you to take medicine for your own good, can you be a bit more assertive in front of outsiders? Can’t you even refuse someone?”

The bitter medicine spilled from the corner of his lips, trickling down onto my slender white fingertips. I withdrew my hand, suppressing disgust, and wiped it with a handkerchief.
“So dirty.”

I reached out to wipe the corner of his lips, but the young boy grabbed my wrist, my arm suspended in midair, and a cool, puzzled voice came from above.
“How can I be more assertive?”

I looked up, but before I could see Evelyn clearly,
the next moment, I was abruptly pushed against the table, a shadow fell, and the boy’s curious voice sounded in my ear.
“Like this? Sister Lucia?”

My hands were pinned behind my back by his single hand, and the cold dinner knife on the table spun deftly between his agile, jade-like fingers before pressing against my slightly raised neck.
He lowered his long eyelashes, tilted his head, looking obedient yet with a hint of malice, but his brows and eyes innocent, he asked softly:
“Sister, if I said I’d kill you now, would you be angry?”

In the candlelight, Evelyn’s purple eyes reflected the fire.
His light-colored eyes darkened, cold and indifferent.
The knife at my neck pressed a little harder.
Seeing a slender wound open on the clean white skin of my neck, beads of crimson blood staining the collar of my linen nightgown, he seemed almost imperceptibly thrilled by the bloodlust.
“Can I refuse you like this? Sister?”

An inexplicable chill ran down my spine.
My eyelashes trembled slightly, and I was about to call for someone, but I was abruptly released, slumping into the chair.
I covered my neck with both hands, gasping for breath.
As the sense of threat faded, fear was replaced by an indescribable shame and anger. I looked at him coldly.

“Sorry, Sister Lucia.”
Evelyn returned to his usual obedient and docile image, handing me the knife, his brows and eyes lowered.
“Evelyn.”
The knife in my hand gleamed coldly. Softly, I threw it onto the table, then suddenly grabbed his neck and pushed him down onto the chair.
The boy let out a muffled groan, his fair cheeks flushing red. Forced to tilt his long neck back, his eyes wet, he looked at me, biting his lip, and called out “Sister” with difficulty.
His warm pulse throbbed under my fingers.
“I just… wanted to ask you…”
“I know. You did very well just now,” I praised casually, but the hand around his neck tightened slightly.
He placed his hands on my wrist, gently nuzzling it.
An obedient and pitiful look. My eyes darkened. I lifted a strand of his cascading silver hair, coiled it around my fingertip, and brushed it across the wet-red corner of his eye.
The boy’s thin frame trembled lightly.
“Mother was right. You are indeed beautiful.

“But, good child.”
I released my grip. Evelyn pressed his reddened neck, panting.
I slightly bent down, cupped his face, and smiled gently: “A knife should not be used against family. Do you understand?”
“Family?”
Evelyn repeated the word, his light purple eyes darkening slightly, his red lips curving into a smile, obedient yet sarcastic:
“Are we? Sister?”
“Of course.”
I said with certainty, planting a kiss on his fair forehead, my expression compassionate and tender:
“Dear Evelyn, your pitiful and miserable world is not favored by the gods. I will bless you.”
“On the condition that you listen to me.”
I whispered in his ear.
The warm breath sprayed on his ear, and the boy froze. After I straightened up, he lowered his eyes, concealing his disgust.
To make him accept familial love…
It’s a bit difficult now.
But it doesn’t matter.
I patted his head and said:
“You’ll get used to it.”