To Twist You Destiny _Episode 04
There were many ways people described Dylan.
A heretic of high society. A Midas touch—money flowed into every business he touched. A workaholic with an unbearable temperament.
But among all those labels, one described him best:
A man of principles who would never change—even if it cost him his neck.
Dylan had once been so poor that even when he was sick enough to lose consciousness, he couldn’t afford to go to a hospital.
The reason he achieved such immense success at such a young age wasn’t simply because he worked hard, nor because luck favored his ventures.
Dylan had principles. He had a goal.
That goal was both the force that kept him alive and the reason he threw himself into work to the point people called him insane.
And in Noel’s eyes, that goal was marriage.
The Lisburn estate Dylan had purchased for his future marriage had been designed from the very beginning with two people in mind.
“Make the interior cream-colored. Women prefer bright tones. Decorate the garden as lavishly as possible—so she can host garden parties whenever she wishes.”
The estate employed three full-time gardeners, and a grand marble fountain had been installed in the garden. Even landowners with forests attached to their mansions rarely maintained their grounds to such an extent.
Up until now, Dylan had never directly spoken about his future spouse or marriage. Perhaps only once, when he recently purchased a villa.
And even then, only Noel had heard it.
Yet those close to Dylan all knew—he was preparing for marriage.
Anyone who observed his daily life would realize it immediately. Every outcome he envisioned included his marriage.
His obsession with it was, frankly, abnormal.
Noel knew that everything Dylan did—working endlessly as if he were a bottomless well of energy, even buying a false identity to enter high society—was for one purpose alone:
Marriage.
Though I never imagined that person would be Daphne Whitewood…
Noel recalled a night from a few days ago—the night of the Whitewood banquet.
He had been organizing documents when Dylan returned earlier than expected.
“You’re back early, sir. I thought you’d return after midnight… Sir?”
What he saw then was a version of Dylan he had never seen before.
All the restraint Dylan usually masked under the name of “manners” had vanished, replaced by raw, untamed ferocity spreading across his face like wildfire.
His twisted expression was filled with despair and rage—so intense that Noel couldn’t even begin to grasp its depth.
“By tomorrow morning, bring me a way to crush the Primrose family.”
Dylan barked the order as if he might strangle Noel on the spot, then slammed the door behind him.
The next day, when Noel entered with documents, he had to clear several whiskey bottles scattered across the floor—it was only natural.
Yet despite drinking himself senseless, Dylan carried out every single task on his schedule without fail.
Even the newly added one—pressuring the Primrose family to cancel the engagement.
Because for a workaholic and a man of principles like him, neglecting work was unacceptable under any circumstance.
Sometimes, Noel wondered if those principles—his goals—were the only things driving Dylan forward.
Whether that was a good thing… was another matter entirely.
Lost in thought, Noel suddenly noticed that Dylan had already draped a fresh tie around his neck, clicking his tongue in irritation.
“Tch. I cut off their investment funds, yet they’re still holding out. It’s not like the Primroses are thrilled about marrying into me either.”
“They are still a noble family, sir. They likely find it difficult to go back on their word so easily.”
“Then I’ll just make it harder for them not to. Contact the western landowners.”
The Primrose territory lay in the west. No matter how active they were in the capital, their roots remained there.
For now, Dylan had only cut off their financial support—but if the landowners near their territory began to turn against them, the Primrose family would truly have no way to endure.
The problem was how many nobles he might antagonize in the process.
A mere businessman shaking a prestigious noble house like this—there was no way the other nobles would look kindly on it.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait a little longer? It hasn’t even been a week yet.”
“I don’t intend to waste that much time. If I can’t resolve this within a week, that’s the real problem.”
As he deftly tied his knot, Dylan raised an eyebrow and growled at Noel.
“This is entirely your fault to begin with, Noel. You should’ve figured out beforehand that Evelyn Primrose was insane.”
“That’s not fair, sir! She’s not like that at all!”
Noel protested, caught in the crossfire.
He had been the one to prepare the profiles of key attendees for Dylan before the banquet—and had been taking the blame ever since.
But what could he possibly have done? That really was all there was to know!
“Ask anyone—they’ll say the same thing! She’s quiet, gentle! She’s never even argued with anyone!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That woman was out of her mind. If she’s really that quiet and gentle, then why did she charge straight at me like that?”
“…I don’t know either…”
As Noel faltered, Dylan frowned.
Just recalling the moment of the proposal soured his mood again.
“Whatever. It’s always the quiet ones who are the craziest inside.”
He remembered those violet eyes that had stared at him—almost as if bewitched.
They had been unable to hide their trembling, their longing.
Clearly not the gaze of someone in their right mind.
If it had happened anywhere else, Dylan would have assumed she had taken some strange drug.
But once he remembered who she was, the explanation felt almost disappointingly simple.
“It’s obvious. She must’ve been jealous of Daphne Whitewood. So she picked someone outrageous like me to draw attention.”
To Dylan, it was the most natural conclusion.
You might envy a stranger’s fortune—but when it’s your friend, it stings all the more.
Daphne was lively, lovable, and popular.
Evelyn, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved.
It wasn’t surprising if she felt jealous.
“That’s how people in high society think. If they can’t have something, they either take it—or make sure no one else can.”
A familiar trace of contempt flickered across Dylan’s face.
He found this drawn-out situation deeply unpleasant.
He had already seized control of the Primrose family’s funding and made a single demand:
Cancel the engagement—and have Evelyn personally explain it to Daphne.
Even if neither side truly wanted the marriage, the scandal between Dylan and Evelyn had already spread.
In this state, approaching Daphne would be impossible.
Only if Evelyn herself clarified that it had all been a misunderstanding could Daphne’s doubts be erased.
And yet they’re still holding out.
Why?
Did that insane woman actually want to marry him?
Clicking his tongue, Dylan pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips.
“Noel. How much time do we have until the next appointment?”
“Not much, sir. Considering travel time, we should leave in twenty minutes.”
“Then before we go—”
He was about to tell Noel to bring the documents he needed to approve—
When there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me, sir. You have a visitor.”
“Send them away. I have no appointments.”
“Well… the thing is…”
The employee looked visibly troubled.
After a moment’s hesitation, he added,
“She introduced herself as Evelyn Primrose.”
…Should we still turn her away?
