He hated her. He hated her with every fibre of his being.
He merely disliked her at first, but this feeling grew ever larger and deeper until before he knew it, the thought of her and all she represented took a large piece of his heart, almost rivalling his love for his brother
It wasn't meant to end up like this. She was only another woman, an irritating and disgusting woman whose desires are as dark as her image is pure. In short, a fly like any other female, perhaps more annoying than most but no more and no less.
Then he learnt of her identity, of her surname.
And he just couldn't resist. Couldn't resist a little petty revenge on top of all the other plans already bubbling. A little revenge towards the boy who stained his brother so, who took up so much space in his heart. He couldn't remember what his exact plans were now, but he knew it would ruin her for as long as she lived in polite society. Petty stuff really.
She fell for him quickly enough, a pretty word here, a cheap compliment there. He remembered feeling disappointed that she didn't put up more of a game really. He had expected more from a relative of the golden boy.
He would even admit that he got bored and had planned to finish things quickly to get to more important matters.
But she surprised him. Just when he thought he had took a hold of her weak desires and her reputation...she sympathised with him.
He exploded. He felt all his dislike of her pretty little face and pretty little life and the irritating, IRRITATING simplicity of her thoughts snowball into something bigger than he was until his mask was ripped off completely.
For he realised that the growing suspicion that Ada Vessalius was not like those other women had come true...and this infuriated him.
She had everything he wouldn't even dare dream of, a brother who adores her as she adores him, a family, reputation, innocence. Everything his eye had prevented him from getting.
She was truly the opposite of him and Vincent hated that he knew this. And he hated her all the more for her blind belief, even for a second, that they were fundamentally the same.
Because he knew he was dirty. Dirtier than the flies of women he scorns and the aristocrats who'd used him. He was fine with this as long as Gilbert was shielded...at least he was fine until she appeared. She made him yearn for the impossible and he shall make her pay for this.
That's the only reason, he told himself as he handed the unconscious girl over to safety, he needs her alive to make her pay for the rest of her life.
