CHAPTER 79: VOLKHAN

That evening, instead of Rowan, Damian came to pick her up from work and told her that Rowan wouldn’t be home for dinner.

By the time the clock slipped past midnight, Rowan still hadn’t come home.

Lyra let out a long breath, tossing and turning across the mattress.

Unable to close her eyes, she grabbed her phone and called him repeatedly. But every call went unanswered, and the silence only sharpened her irritation.

She was certain Rowan was pulling the same moody stunt again.

Finally, with her patience wearing thin, she called Damian.

"Hello, Madam."

"Damian... where is Rowan?"

"I’m already at home. Uh... boss isn’t home yet?"

Damian stumbled over his words, struggling to push the lie out.

"Really? He’s not with you?" Lyra frowned, uneasy at the thought of Rowan being out alone.

"I’m sure he’ll come home, maybe just a bit late."

"Fine. I’ll wait."

She ended the call, though unease lingered in her chest.

Damian drew in a slow breath and released it quietly.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the lounge office.

Rowan sat slumped on the sofa, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as he drew in a sharp breath and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

Then, he reached for the bottle of liquor, poured it into a glass, and lifted it to his lips in one long swallow.

Damian rubbed his temple. His boss really needed to learn how to trust his wife. His behavior only ended up hurting himself.

...

It was a late night in Ashvale City. Dante had only just gotten back from Mistvale when he went straight to his father’s mansion.

Old Volkhan was sitting in his study when a knock sounded at the door, announcing his son’s arrival.

Dante stepped inside without a hint of warmth on his face.

His irritation deepened the moment he noticed Kiera lounging comfortably on the sofa.

"Dante, sit. I have something to discuss with you."

His father gestured to the chair across from him, but he didn’t move.

His gaze stayed locked on Kiera.

"What is she doing in this house?" he asked, making no effort to conceal the irritation in his voice.

Old Volkhan’s brows knitted together. "Why? She’s my woman. She has every right to live here."

Dante snorted.

"Mother lives here, and you still have the nerve to bring your mistress home? You really have no shame, Father."

"Watch your tongue, Dante. This is my house, I’ll do whatever I want," he shot back, jabbing a finger in his son’s direction.

Amused, Dante clapped once, a mocking smile curling at his lips.

"Tsk... maybe you should see a doctor, Father. You’re the only one foolish enough to be bewitched by that snake."

Old Volkhan tensed. He was ready to fire back when Kiera rose gracefully from the sofa, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"It’s alright... don’t upset yourself. I’ll go. You talk to him."

She pressed a light kiss before walking past Dante, tossing him a smile on her way out. He scoffed in mockery. Kiera had no shame, just like his father.

"Sit down, Dante."

Old Volkhan had no desire to discuss this, but he forced himself to continue.

Dante sank into the chair, crossing one leg over the other as he rested his elbows lightly on the armrests.

His father pointed to the stack of women’s photos spread across his desk.

"I gave you three months. I want news about my grandchild."

Dante let out a quiet chuckle. He had already guessed where this conversation was going.

Old Volkhan ignored his reaction and pressed on. "You will marry the mother of my first grandchild. Choose wisely, Dante."

He didn’t bother looking at his father. A slow smile tugged at his lips as he flipped a cigarette between his fingers.

"Did you do this to Mother back then?"

"Of course. I took her as my wife only because she was the first to bear my child," he said, showing no guilt at all.

Dante lowered his gaze for a moment. He understood perfectly, his father expected him to follow the same path.

He rose from his seat without a word, earning a look of displeasure from Old Volkhan.

"Where are you going?" his father demanded.

"To see Mother," Dante replied.

"Take these photos with you. Choose. I’ll send them to your house."

"No need, Father. I’m not you. I have my own way."

Dante left the room, ignoring the shout of his name echoing behind him.

He walked straight to his mother’s room and knocked on the door.

"It’s me," he said quietly. "May I come in?"

He heard his mother’s gentle voice from inside, and he stepped in.

He eased the door open, his eyes settling on the woman seated in front of the mirror, brushing her hair.

His mother turned when he stepped inside.

"How are you?" she asked gently.

"Great as always," he answered.

He kissed her cheek and sank to the floor beside her, resting at her legs. His mother immediately reached out, her hand soft as it brushed through his hair.

"You argued with your father again?" his mother asked.

Dante shrugged, and his mother could tell it meant yes.

"Oh, Dante. He’s already given you everything. We won’t lose anything by staying quiet, arguing only exhausts you."

Dante looked into his mother’s tired eyes.

"That’s what you’re doing now? Staying quiet and letting that parasite do whatever she wants?"

His mother only smiled, accepting the sting of her own advice being turned on her.

Dante sighed. He took his mother’s hand and clasped it gently in his own.

"Leave this house, Mother. Come stay with me."

"I can’t leave this house. If I do, your father will divorce me, and that woman will only grow bolder. I’m trying to protect your father... and you. You two are all I have."

"You’re protecting Father? For what? He doesn’t care about you."

Dante muttered a curse under his breath.

His mother smiled softly. "You don’t see it, but I know he cares about me... and you."

Dante felt she was being ridiculous. If he said anything more, she would just defend his father again and that would only make him angrier.