My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 111: A Silent Reckoning

Chapter 111: A Silent Reckoning

The room fell into a stunned silence. Naomi’s mother’s face froze in shock. Had Naomi really just said that? And the way Zylan accepted her decision without even thinking twice left everyone utterly speechless.

Her father, who had initially been caught off guard by Naomi’s words, seemed to recover first. He straightened in his seat, his voice steady despite the lingering surprise. "Of course. Thank you very much for your consideration," he said, his lips stretching into a polite smile. But it was clear from the tightness around his eyes that he was still processing the audacity of Naomi’s earlier words.

Naomi simply nodded, her expression calm, betraying no sign of the chaos swirling inside her. "Our pleasure," she responded, her tone even and collected.

She could feel the weight of the silence pressing in on her, suffocating the room. The clinking of silverware against fine china broke the tension, but it didn’t ease the discomfort hanging heavily in the air.

Under the table, Naomi’s hand moved instinctively until it rested on Zylan’s lap. Her fingers brushed lightly against him, a subtle caress. She felt him still at first, though his other hand remained occupied, expertly wielding her fork to pick at the neatly shaped fruits on her plate. He didn’t look up, his focus entirely on the food, but Naomi could feel the minute shift in his muscles as his attention momentarily turned toward her touch.

Zylan glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before wordlessly adding more fruit to her plate. His movements were precise, deliberate. And then, with a slow, deliberate shift, his free hand moved beneath the table. Naomi stiffened when she felt his fingers lightly graze her thigh.

Her wide eyes snapped to her parents and sister, checking if they had noticed. But they appeared too focused on their meals, still processing the earlier exchange. Only if she knew that their shock wasn’t solely about her words—they were floored by how easily Zylan had let her take charge.

Heat rushed to Naomi’s face as Zylan’s touch grew bolder. His hand moved with slow, teasing motions along her leg, sending shivers up her spine. Despite herself, Naomi shot him a warning look, her lips pressing into a thin line as she nudged his leg with her own under the table, silently pleading for him to stop. But Zylan acted unbothered, continuing to eat with apparent indifference as though he hadn’t heard her silent plea.

And then, he went further.

"Ah..." Naomi gasped softly, her voice involuntarily breaking the quiet. Every head at the table turned to her, and Naomi’s mortification deepened. She cleared her throat quickly, desperate to hide her discomfort. "The fruits are lovely," she blurted, her words rushing out in an attempt to mask her reaction.

Zylan finally turned to her, his lips twitching in amusement. He let out a low chuckle, soft and affectionate, before leaning in and pinching her cheek playfully. The smugness in his expression made Naomi’s heart race. She glared at him, but the smirk on his face only deepened, making her cheeks burn even hotter as her family watched in disbelief.

Her parents, still recovering from the earlier shock, couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around the dynamic unfolding before them. Sabrina, on the other hand, was a different story. She sat rigid, her face flushed—though not with embarrassment, but with anger. She seethed as she watched Zylan dote on Naomi, not sparing Sabrina so much as a glance. Jealousy simmered beneath the surface, burning in her chest. Her fists clenched under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she silently cursed her sister.

"Naomi, you b*tch really snatched him from me," Sabrina muttered under her breath, her nails digging deeper into her palm. She couldn’t believe how easily Naomi had stolen Zylan’s attention, leaving her invisible in the shadow of their interaction. Sabrina’s gaze flicked briefly to Naomi, filled with unspoken resentment.

But then, Zylan raised his head. His face, which had been soft and teasing just moments before, turned cold in an instant. His sharp, piercing gaze flicked toward Sabrina. His eyes flashed red—a warning, subtle but unmistakable. It was as if he had sensed the very heartbeat of Sabrina’s jealousy and chose to address it in the only way he knew how: with dominance.

Sabrina froze. Fear crept into her expression, her lips trembling as her breath hitched in her throat. She flinched as her spoon slipped from her fingers, the sudden noise of it clattering loudly to the floor.

CLANK.

The sound shattered the tense silence, drawing their father’s attention. His sharp gaze pinned Sabrina where she sat, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

"What is wrong with you, Sabrina?" he scolded, his voice sharp and reprimanding. "This is a simple dinner, and yet you decide to behave foolishly—on the day of your father’s birthday, no less!" His words were harsh, and Naomi could see the disapproval in his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the way he usually spoke to Sabrina.

Naomi’s head snapped up, startled by her father’s harsh tone. She had never heard him speak to Sabrina like that before, and it caught her completely off guard. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sabrina looked down, her face flushed with humiliation. "Sorry, Father," she muttered, her voice soft and apologetic. But Naomi knew that tone—it wasn’t genuine. Sabrina wasn’t sorry. If anything, she seemed more shaken than anything else. Naomi caught something in her sister’s eyes that shocked her further: faint fear. A brief flicker of uncertainty crossed Sabrina’s gaze, a crack in her usual veneer of composure.

Sabrina’s eyes flicked toward Zylan, but he wasn’t even looking at her. His attention was entirely on Naomi, his expression now relaxed as he watched her carefully, his earlier coldness replaced by an unspoken connection. Sabrina gritted her teeth, frustration mounting. She wanted so badly for Zylan to look at her, even if just for a second. Instead, he gazed at Naomi like she was the only one in the room.

’He’s mine,’ Sabrina thought bitterly, her fists clenching under the table. The words burned through her mind like acid, filling her with resentment. She could feel the familiar, bitter taste of jealousy rising in her throat.

Just as the room seemed to settle, Mr. Luke spoke again, his voice steady but respectful. "Mr. Zylan, I’m so grateful that you’ve come to celebrate my birthday once again. I can’t thank you enough. I know you must be very busy." He bowed his head slightly, showing the utmost respect, but Naomi noticed the subtle tremor in his posture—an almost imperceptible shift in his demeanor as he tried to regain control of the situation.

Zylan responded with a small nod, his expression still unreadable as he continued to eat, unfazed by the tension that lingered in the room. His attention was not on the conversation at all; it was entirely on Naomi, his focus unwavering.

"It’s only natural," he replied after a brief pause, his voice low and even. "Sabina will be getting married in two days. I would truly appreciate it if you and Mr Zylan could attend." His words, though simple, sent ripples through the room, and Naomi could sense the underlying tension in the air.

Sabrina’s eyes widened in shock. "What?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and a hint of alarm. "Father, you haven’t mentioned this to me."

Her father turned to her with a small, apologetic smile, though there was a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "Yes, I know. I was waiting for your sister to arrive before I told you."

Sabrina glanced at Naomi for a brief moment, their gazes locking. A fleeting exchange of emotions passed between them, but Naomi didn’t flinch. She held Sabrina’s gaze with an unshakable resolve, her expression unreadable. Sabrina turned back to her father, her voice filled with disbelief. "But Father, you haven’t told me about any of this. What’s going on?"

Her father’s face hardened slightly. "What are you talking about? Would you just be quiet?" The irritation in his tone was palpable, and Naomi could see the deepening frustration in his eyes. It was as if he were growing tired of Sabrina’s questioning.

Her mother remained silent throughout the exchange, her face unreadable. Naomi could sense the distance that had grown between them. It was clear to her that something had shifted within her mother since that day she had left the mansion. Her mother had changed entirely—her usual sharp tongue was now dormant.

Naomi wasn’t shocked that her mother still stayed with her father, despite everything that had happened. She suspected her father was simply keeping her around to avoid a public scandal.

Sabrina’s eyes widened even more, her disbelief turning into simmering anger. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Naomi’s calmness, Zylan’s affection toward her, and the way everything had shifted so suddenly—it all made Sabrina feel invisible, and the jealousy twisted in her gut.

Naomi, her posture unshaken, spoke up, her voice calm and firm. "I’m sorry, but I have to decline."

Her father’s face contorted in shock. He turned to Naomi, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you telling me you don’t want to attend your sister’s wedding?"

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Zylan, who had been silently observing the exchange, dropped his fork with a soft clink. His expression remained unreadable, but Naomi noticed the way his lips pressed into a thin line as he dabbed his lips with a cloth, his calm demeanor belying the tension in the room.

The air in the room grew suffocating. Every moment felt like it dragged on longer than it should have, and Naomi could sense the storm that was brewing beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew one thing for certain: nothing would be the same after tonight.

Zylan slowly turned to Mr. Luke, the weight of his presence undeniable. With a calm yet chilling tone, he spoke, his words slicing through the heavy tension in the room.

"Speak to my wife that way again," Zylan said, his voice dangerously calm, each word deliberate, "and your blood will be the next to decorate this wall."

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