h4Chapter 98: Kael And Eira/h4

    Kael’s POV

    With everyone else gone, I was left alone to watch over the house—and her. Sitting on the sofa, I continued my work from home, juggling meetings and the rest of my tasks while keeping a careful eye on her through the wall-sized ss window.

    She remained on thewn, Vixenzily curled at her side, while Fluffy darted around in yful circles. She sat there like a still point in the world, unmoving, unbothered, as if time itself had no hold over her.

    A thought struck me. Maybe years locked in small rooms, denied the world outside, had shaped her into this. She could sit in the same spot for an entire day, unaffected—not just physically, but mentally too. Nothing seemed to disturb her.

    I had been furious when I learned she had a mate and a child. The twenty-four hours I spent locked in my room—what I endured alone—was unbearable. A living hell. If I had stepped out, I wasn’t sure what I might have done to her.

    iHow could she even dare to have a mate when..../i

    I forced myself to swallow every bit of that hellish rage I was feeling towards her.

    iIt’s alright. Once I find that bastard, tear out his heart for daring to make her his mate, for daring to touch her... everything will be alright. All I have to do is kill him. Then she will have no one else but me. Us./i

    iHer child? We’ll deal with that once we find him./i

    And after watching that video of her abuse, all that anger faded into nothingness.

    Her reaction after watching her own video, I wasn’t sure whether it was good thing that she didn’t react or it was worrisome. Maybe, I should consider Liam’s suggestion of getting a psychologist for her.

    When myst meeting ended, I looked up at the wall clock. It was lunchtime. I hadn’t even noticed how the hours had slipped by while working and keeping watch on her.

    After years, I finally stepped into the kitchen to prepare a meal. Since I’d brought my mate brothers here, Jason had taken over the kitchen entirely. I hadn’t needed to cook at all.

    Still, I knew the skills hadn’t left me. I remembered my mother enjoying whatever I made. She herself was the best cook, and my father and I loved everything she prepared. Despite our wealth and having servants, my mother preferred to cook herself. It was more than food—it was her love, her way of showing care for us.

    I used to hover around the kitchen whenever my mother cooked, slowly picking up her skills. Over time, she even began teaching me herself. I could still hear her words in my mind:

    "A man should learn to cook so he can make tasty meals and please his mate whenever she’s angry. It’s the easiest way to reach her heart."

    I used to smile at her and dream about having my own mate, imagining a life like my parents’—a happy family.

    My mate? What a cursed fate I had.

    So, I decided long ago that I didn’t need a mate. I wouldn’t have one—ever.

    But now... things were changing. Slowly, in a direction I had never imagined, not even in my wildest dreams.

    Dreams. I hadn’t had any for years now. All I had were the hellishly torturous, sleepless nights I had endured alone for the past six years.

    After giving a thought, I decided to cook something my mother loved, thinking that if every woman liked it, she would too. Spicy penne with tomato sauce, a hint of wine for depth. My mother had loved it.

    I nced toward her on thewn, wondering if she could handle something spicy. Then I recalled a memories from the past: where that one evening she enjoyed it despite the fact that she wasn’t good at handling it and cursed the food and the cook for making it so spicy.

    Her red, angry face, mouth twisted to hurl sweet curses, was sight to see.

    iMaybe, today, I’ll get to hear her cursing again. Better than seeing her quiet and lifeless.’/i

    To counter the spice, I made a chocte smoothie and added some side dishes so she wouldn’t suffer after the main course.

    While I cooked, I noticed her finally lying down on thewn. She must have been exhausted after sitting so long. Facing the sky, she closed her eyes, and Vixen curled up on the hollow of her stomach, drifting off to sleep.

    She was skin and bone, fragile in a way that made my chest tighten. She needed to eat more, and eat well, so I prepared another quick dish with meat to ensure she got proper nutrition.

    ’Gosh. I can’t believe I’m worrying about her meals and her health. While until this morning, all I could thinking of killing her for having a mate and a child with him.

    Once the meal was ready, I stepped outside and called, "Food is ready. Come inside to eat."

    As usual, she didn’t react. Her expression remained as lifeless as ever, let alone open her eyes to even acknowledge my presence.

    I frowned and lifted Vixen from her stomach, turning to walk inside. "I should send you to pet care," I said casually to the cat, "so you can give birth there and return after half a year."

    The words seemed to strike a chord as I felt movement behind me.

    In the reflection of the window ss, I saw she had sat up, her eyes zing with defiance as she red at me for taking away her pet. If the gaze could kill, it would have stabbed me right away.

    That defiance... it was the same as in the past, the same fire that had always mesmerised me. I smirked, watching her rise and follow me inside.

    I ced Vixen’s food bowl on the dining table so she could eat there. Eira picked up the cat and set her closer to her chair. I had already served her meal, and Fluffy followed in to eat as well.

    Her possessiveness over her pets was absolute. They were hers only thanks to Roman’s promise. I had never been a pet person, so it didn’t matter to me. She could have as many as she wanted and im them hers.

    As she took her first bite of the pasta, I watched her face. Her expression twisted slightly, and in an instant, the tip of her tiny nose turned red. She red at me, cold and furious, clearly cursing me for feeding her something spicy.

    She wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t done it out of anger. I just wanted to see a reaction, something to break through that dead calm. I waited, almost eager, for her to curse me—but...

    She lowered her head and continued eating, ignoring mepletely. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her cheeks and nose flushed a deep red, yet she kept stuffing the pasta into her mouth as if it didn’t matter.

    I stood and gently held her hand, trying to stop her. She shrugged me off without a word and kept eating.

    I pushed the ss of chocte smoothie toward her. "This will ease the burning."

    She didn’t touch it until she finished the pasta—and then went on to eat the rest of her meal. Her face was still flushed, almost as if she was burning from the inside, but she refused to listen to me.

    Things hadn’t gone as I had nned. The glimpse of the past I had hoped for—the small, human reaction—had been shattered in an instant.

    I could only hope her stomach wouldn’t pay for it.