Lila’s POV
Zoe was still rolling around on the sofa, clamoring about a custom "Mommy Sundae" that would spray rainbow frosting, but my mind felt stuffed with wet cotton—so heavy and dense that even breathing felt labored.
Caleb’s words rang in my ears again, every single one painfully clear: "He brought a daughter back from Africa when he was just eighteen... You can’t even imagine how sordid his private life is."
I had been so angry I was trembling, and I refuted him on the spot. But now that I had calmed down, his words were like a tiny fishbone lodged in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it down or cough it up, and every gulp brought a dull ache.
’Did Jasper... ever love someone else?’
’And at such a young, vibrant age, no less? What kind of breathtakingly talented and beautiful girl could make him cross half the globe to bring her back? Gentle? Brave? Or was she like him, with a wild, sharp edge?’
At that thought, my chest tightened inexplicably, as if seized by an invisible hand. Our marriage was just a contract, stated clearly in black and white. We each got what we wanted and didn’t interfere in each other’s lives. What right did I have to be bothered by his past? And yet, my heart couldn’t help but sink, plunging into a deep sea of bitterness.
’I didn’t even dare to think about it too deeply—if he had truly loved someone so deeply, was his tenderness now just a habit? Was he only good to me because... I just happened to show up when he needed a wife?’
"Zoe," I interrupted her wild fantasies. I tried to keep my voice light, but even I could hear the dryness in it. "Didn’t we agree from the start that you were just introducing me to your dad for a contract marriage?" I looked down at my own fingers. My nails were neatly trimmed and rounded, but they felt a little cold. "I don’t mind that he had a lover in the past. After all... I once thought Caleb was the only love of my life."
Zoe’s laughter came to an abrupt halt. She sat up straight and stared at me, her expression suddenly serious, even tinged with a bit of heartache. "Lila," she hesitated, lowering her voice as if afraid of being overheard. "My... my background is really complicated. It’s not something I can explain in just a moment. But what I can tell you is this—there are absolutely no obstacles between you and my dad. Really, none at all."
Her gaze was open and urgent, as if she were afraid I wouldn’t believe her, yet desperate to clarify something. But the more she acted this way, the more suspicious I became. If there really was no issue, why couldn’t she just explain it clearly? Who exactly was that "daughter from Africa"?
"I understand," I said with a forced smile, patting her hand to try and hide my unease. "Thank you, Zoe."
She looked like she wanted to say more. Her lips moved, but in the end, she just sighed and didn’t press the issue. She knew me too well. She knew that right now, no amount of explanation could dislodge the thorn of doubt in my heart.
Just then, steady footsteps sounded on the stairs. Jasper was coming out of his study. He had changed into dark gray loungewear, and his hair was still a bit damp as if he had just showered. A faint scent of cedarwood drifted from him. Moonlight streamed in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on his broad shoulders and outlining their hard lines, yet he somehow looked uncharacteristically gentle, stripped of his daytime sharpness.
"Not asleep yet?" He walked over to me. His tone was level, but his eyes were locked on me like an invisible net. "Zoe, don’t you have school tomorrow?"
Zoe sprang to her feet, her voice so sweet it could drip honey. "I know, Daddy! I should get to my room! Good night, Daddy, Mommy!"
The corner of Jasper’s mouth lifted, his eyes full of mirth as he made a generous promise. "Good night. I’ll buy you a yacht next month. You can pick the model and name it whatever you want."
"Yay! I’m going to call it the ’S.S. Mommy’!" Zoe spun around in excitement, then gave me a quick wink and mouthed "Go for it!" before scurrying back to her room. She even closed the door gently, as if afraid of disturbing us.
The living room fell silent, leaving only the occasional CRACKLE of firewood in the hearth and the gentle lapping of waves from the moonlit lake outside. I suddenly felt a little awkward. My fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of my clothes, their tips feeling a little cold. Just moments ago, I was thinking about his "ex," and now he was standing right in front of me. The guilt and embarrassment made me want to run away.
"Um... I’m going back to my room, too." I kept my head down and turned to leave, my steps so quick it was almost like I was fleeing.
We had always slept in separate rooms. The master bedroom was his territory, while I stayed in the guest room next door. This arrangement had started the day after our wedding, and neither of us had ever suggested changing it. For me, it was a final line of defense—a way to stop myself from getting carried away and thinking this marriage meant more than the contract stipulated. It was also my insurance policy, ensuring I wouldn’t fall too deep without realizing it.
But I had only taken two steps before my wrist was caught. The grip was gentle yet firm, leaving no room for escape. The next second, I was pulled into a warm embrace. His heartbeat was steady and strong, thumping against my back through the thin fabric of our clothes like a war drum, throwing my own heart into a panic.
"Where are you going?" His voice was low, murmuring right next to my ear, tinged with a hint of... hurt?
"Back to my room." I struggled a little, but couldn’t break free. I had no choice but to tilt my head up and glare at him, trying to use my bluster to hide my guilt. "I have to get up early for work tomorrow."
"No." His arms tightened, and he rested his chin gently on the top of my head, his breath brushing against my hair. "You’re coming back to my room with me tonight."
I turned my head, my voice carrying a tremor I hadn’t even noticed myself. "Didn’t we agree... to sleep in our own rooms? It’s written clearly in the contract!"
His thumb gently caressed my cheek, the movement impossibly soft, but his words left no room for argument. "Did you forget? Your bed collapsed earlier." He seemed to see right through me and let out a low, husky chuckle. "Are you wondering who I had Zoe with?"
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t deny it.
"Zoe is not my biological daughter," he said bluntly, his gaze clear and open. "You... are the first woman in my life."
I stared at him, stunned, my heart skipping a beat. He said it with such certainty, such matter-of-factness, as if it were the most indisputable truth in the universe.
I wanted to say something more, but he wasn’t going to give me another chance to think. He swept me up into his arms, bridal style, and strode toward the master bedroom. I let out a cry of surprise and instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Jasper! Put me down! I still have things to say!" I was both mortified and flustered, my cheeks hot enough to fry an egg.
"No. What we were interrupted from doing earlier is what we must do right now." He lowered his head and crushed his lips to mine, silencing all my protests. The kiss was fierce and urgent, tinged with a hint of punishment, yet it also held an endless tenderness, as if trying to devour all my insecurities and suspicions. All my strength melted away during that kiss, and I could only lean limply in his arms, letting him do as he pleased.
Countless fireworks exploded in my mind, rising and falling in an endless display. But after the brilliant embers faded, I saw it in the depths of my mind: my fear and unease, churning in a black mist. And faintly, within it, I seemed to hear the howl of a wolf.
"I saw it too—"