CHAPTER 174: ANCESTRAL HOME

–Damon–

Interesting. I smirked as I listened to Logan’s report. My wife has a way of driving everyone to the edge—madness, depression, even thoughts of self-destruction. Livana knows exactly which strings to pull to make people break. Now that Logan has handed over enough information to make her father lose his sanity, I can already imagine the chaos. The old man loves his daughters, but they’ve grown distant, poisoned by his own infidelity and weakness for women.

"So," Logan said, leaning back lazily, "are we going to kill them or what?"

I tilted my head slightly, raising a brow at him before Livana’s calm voice cut through.

"Logan, there will be no killing of a family member until I have everything in my hands," she said casually, nibbling on her midnight snack as if she were discussing the weather.

"Well, if you say so," Logan groaned, sounding bored. "But it’s getting dull. Give me something else to do."

"Fine," Livana sighed, irritation slipping through her elegant composure. "Go to my lab. Make sure everything is perfect."

That caught my attention. The lab. I’ve been curious about it too. Logan looked thoughtful for a moment before smirking.

"Alright. I’ll be going then."

"Yes, please," I said coolly. "You’ve interrupted our romantic night enough."

He laughed as he opened the door—only to find Jane standing there, holding a tray of snacks.

"Oh, hey, Jane," he greeted teasingly. "How’s your other Logan?"

"You’re in my way, Logan Zachary Maxwell," she replied in that cold, cutting tone of hers. Livana chuckled softly beside me, clearly entertained. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her laughter—rare, soft, melodic—was something I’d kill to hear every day.

"Well, well," Logan grinned. "You learned my full name. Going to curse me now?"

"I might," Jane retorted.

Their banter continued, and Livana’s smile lingered. I found myself watching her more than listening to them. Every flicker of amusement across her face—every glint in those violet eyes—made my heart ache in the most dangerous way.

Finally, Logan left, and Jane placed the tray on the table beside Livana.

"Here’s your milk, Madam."

"Thank you, Jane. That’s all for tonight. Check on Deanne and Sophia for me, please."

"I already did," Jane replied. "They’re still working."

"Hmm. You should rest as well."

"That’s right," I added. "You need your rest, especially now that Logan’s leaving. I’m sure you’ll sleep better without him hovering around."

Livana chuckled.

"Well, sir," Jane said with a faint nod, "I’ll admit, I’m glad he’ll be out of my hair. Good night."

"Sleep well," Livana said softly.

When the door closed, I moved closer, sliding beside her and wrapping my arm around her waist. My hand rested over her stomach.

"Are you checking if my belly grows with every bite I take?" She smiled faintly, teasing back, "Or are you checking if I’m getting fat?"

I chuckled and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Not really." I leaned in, my voice low. "Tell me, wife—what do you feel right now?"

"Feel?" she echoed, blinking. "I’m still hungry."

I laughed quietly, brushing my fingers through her short hair. "You know what I meant."

She didn’t answer right away. Her lashes—silver and long—cast soft shadows against her cheeks. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat but honest.

"I lost those feelings, Damon."

"If I die," I murmured, "would you mourn for me?"

"I mourn differently," she replied. Then, with a graceful motion, she pushed her plate toward me. "Finish this."

"Sorry," I said with a crooked smile, "did I kill your appetite?"

"Not really." She reached for the grapes beside her, her hand brushing the edge of the table.

I finished her leftover lasagna, watching her chew one grape at a time. She looked almost childlike, serene. Adorable, even.

When she was done, I gathered the plates and glasses, stacking them neatly on the tray.

"I’ll take this downstairs," I told her.

She only hummed in response.

I brought the tray down to the kitchen nearby, leaving it there before heading back upstairs. On my way, I noticed Carrie climbing the staircase with her head down.

"Isn’t it a bit late for you to be coming home?" I asked. She froze mid-step and turned toward me. "So," I added, smirking, "how’s your mother in jail?"

"Are you worried about me, brother-in-law?" she asked, her tone dripping with mock sweetness—almost seductive. Almost.

"Not at all," I replied darkly. "I’m just curious how much your mother’s been whining."

Her glare followed me as I laughed quietly and walked past her. I could feel the hatred rolling off her—so thick she could choke on it.

When I reached our bedroom, I locked the door. The balcony doors were open, the night wind sweeping in. Livana stood there, her hair swaying with the cold breeze. I picked up her silk robe and draped it gently over her bare shoulders, pulling her into my arms from behind.

"My love," I whispered against her ear.

"In this mansion," she murmured, her voice distant, "is where my mother died."

I held her closer, feeling the tension in her body.

"I can’t sleep here," she continued softly, "but I need the documents—everything—to save both families."

"I understand," I said, kissing her cheek tenderly.

I rested my hand on her growing bump and simply held her. The cold wind brushed past us, carrying the silence, and for a long time, neither of us spoke. We just stayed there—two broken souls standing in the dark, bound by power, love, and ghosts of the past.

–Logan–

I was about to leave right away, but then I remembered my sisters working in the Carringtons’ study room. Before heading there, I stopped by the pantry to grab some snacks. But knowing those two, pulling another all-nighter, chips alone wouldn’t cut it. So I grabbed a basket and filled it with whatever I could find—cookies, nuts, chocolates, the works.

"Oh, I thought it was a rat," came that cold, nonchalant voice from behind me.

I almost dropped the basket. Those soundless, assassin-like steps could only belong to one person—my favorite woman to annoy. I turned around with a smug grin.

"Oh, it’s you," I said, chuckling.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone as calm as a glacier.

"Going to visit the girls," I replied, winking as I closed the pantry door. Then I opened the fridge and took out Sophia’s and Deanne’s favorite drinks.

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?" I asked, glancing her way. She was already dressed in her pajamas and a soft cardigan.

"I can’t sleep," she murmured. "Not in this house."

"Want to go clubbing with me?" I asked with a grin, knowing full well what her answer would be.

"Oh, please. It’s past midnight." She rolled her eyes, then reached for a bottle of milk. "Though I am curious... are you leaving the country?"

"Yeah," I replied, leaning casually against the counter. "Wanna come with me?"

She looked at me, exhausted but sharp, the kind of woman who knew too much but said nothing. She probably already knew about Livana’s next move—but she’d die before betraying her loyalty.

"I might even ask you out while we’re there," I added, grinning wider.

"Don’t say such heinous words!" she snapped, glaring at me.

I clutched my chest dramatically. "Ouch," I said with a smirk. "Kidding, obviously."

She sighed, took the basket from me, and started walking. I gathered the bottles against my chest and followed her to the other wing of the mansion where the study room was. There was even a small fridge by the corridor now—of course, Jane must’ve arranged that. The guards smiled politely at her as we passed.

When Jane opened the door, we found Sophia sprawled on the carpet, staring at the ceiling like she was contemplating the meaning of life. Deanne was still glued to her big computer built on a briefcase, typing furiously while checking transaction records like a machine.

Tough night. But if there are only two people Livana could trust, it’s them.

"I brought cold coffee, Phia," I announced, walking over and placing the chilled bottle on her forehead.

She didn’t even flinch. "Are you dead?" I asked.

"I’m near... to dying," she groaned.

"Oh, don’t die yet. You still have so much to do. Besides, I’ll be leaving in a few hours."

"No sleep?" Deanne asked, glancing up as Jane placed the basket on the coffee table.

"I think that goes for you too, Jane," Deanne added with a smirk. "Why don’t you try sleeping together? Some people rest better when they’re with someone they’re... comfortable with."

Jane’s reply came cold and sharp. "I’m not even close to being comfortable around someone like Logan Zachary Maxwell."

I gasped theatrically. "Wow."

Deanne burst out laughing. "You despise him so much you had to use his full name."

"Right?" I nodded in mock seriousness. "You really hate me, Jane. Be honest—did you love me first? They say you can’t truly hate someone unless you once loved them." I tilted my head and grinned.

Sophia rolled on the carpet, laughing hysterically.

"Oh, Logan," Jane sighed flatly. "Please. Don’t get your hopes up."

"Too late," I smirked. "The damage is done."

I exhaled and straightened my shirt. "Well, I’ll be off. Make sure to protect the Ice Queen, alright? Don’t overwork yourselves." I winked at Jane before waltzing out of the study room.

Now it’s time to visit the laboratory Livana’s been working on for months. No one—absolutely no one—can afford to mess with the Queen’s plan. Not when the whole game is crawling with eyes watching every move.