My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 62: Secrets Beneath the Surface

Chapter 62: Secrets Beneath the Surface

The car drove on in silence, the atmosphere heavy with Naomi’s unanswered questions. She sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, though her mind was elsewhere.

The thoughts swirling in her head refused to settle, each one pulling her deeper into her curiosity about Zylan. From the moment they met, she’d sensed there was something unique about him, something different. But now, she was beginning to understand that Zylan was a man of secrets—secrets so deeply buried that he might never share them with anyone.

Yet, despite the mystery that surrounded him, her curiosity gnawed at her. Naomi wanted to understand him, but fear held her back. She worried about crossing boundaries, especially in a marriage like theirs. Could she really ask him about something so personal? Did she even have the right to?

Zylan was like a distant rock in a turbulent ocean. No matter how hard she tried, she could never truly reach him. She could only admire him from afar, standing on the shore, her feet unable to move closer. That was how it felt—how it always felt with him. Yet, her questions refused to be silenced.

Why did his hair change so suddenly? Why couldn’t he sleep with her that day? What did he mean when he said that? And... did he simply dislike children?

These thoughts swirled in her mind like an unrelenting storm, but she kept them locked inside. She reminded herself again and again that she had no right to demand answers. They were not in a marriage built on love or trust, after all. They were little more than strangers tied together by circumstance.

Her thoughts lingered on his hair. That morning, she’d noticed the change. His dark, jet-black locks had streaks of golden blonde running through them, spreading like sunlight breaking through shadows. At first, she thought it was dye. That would have been an easy explanation. But as she watched, the golden streaks seemed to spread unevenly, covering just half of his hair. The sight left her baffled.

When she’d tried to touch it that day, he’d stopped her, his hand gripping hers with surprising force. The memory made her stomach tighten. What was it about his hair that he didn’t want her to know? Was it just a secret he guarded out of habit, or was there something more—something deeper that she couldn’t begin to fathom?

Her questions weighed heavily on her as the car slowed. Outside, the mansion loomed into view, its towering structure a cold reminder of the life she now led. The silence between them remained unbroken, adding to the suffocating tension in the air.

As the car came to a halt, Naomi noticed something strange. Her door and both of Zylan’s doors swung open at the same time, their movement perfectly synchronized, as if guided by an invisible force. The sight took her by surprise, and she couldn’t help but stare in bewilderment.

Stepping out of the car, she was greeted by the sight of an older man. His face was lined with age, but his smile was warm and welcoming. He stood waiting by the steps, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Naomi," he said warmly, his tone carrying the kind of familiarity that came with years of service.

Naomi offered him a soft smile in return, though her heart wasn’t in it. The weight of her thoughts made it difficult to muster more than a polite acknowledgment.

Before she could respond, another voice spoke behind her. "Welcome back, sir," someone said, addressing Zylan.

Curious, Naomi turned her head slightly, catching sight of another figure bowing respectfully to her husband. Zylan nodded in response, his expression unreadable. The silent gesture seemed to give her permission to go, so she turned back and began walking toward the mansion’s grand entrance.

The sight of Rhea standing at the doorway made Naomi pause. A gentle smile graced Rhea’s lips as she stood waiting, her presence a comforting reminder of the days leading up to Naomi’s wedding. Back then, Rhea had been one of the few people who made her feel less alone, offering quiet support when Naomi had felt the walls of her life closing in.

The sudden urge to run to her, to hug her, surged through Naomi. But she held herself back. Instead, she returned Rhea’s smile, grateful for the small comfort her presence brought.

"Welcome back home, Mrs. Naomi," Rhea said softly, her tone warm but formal.

Naomi nodded in acknowledgment, though something about Rhea’s greeting struck her as slightly different. She decided not to comment, choosing to keep her smile in place as she stepped inside.

The dining hall was a sight to behold. The table was laden with dishes, each one arranged with meticulous care. It was the kind of effort that couldn’t go unnoticed, and Naomi found herself pausing at the sight. Her gaze moved from one dish to the next, her thoughts momentarily distracted by the sheer perfection of the arrangement.

She knew Rhea couldn’t have prepared all this alone, which left only one possibility: Zylan. The idea that he might have gone to such lengths to plan this unsettled her. Why would he? What could have motivated him to arrange something so elaborate?

Quietly, she began to eat, her thoughts still tangled in the questions that plagued her. The chefs moved with practiced efficiency, bowing respectfully as they cleared the dishes she finished.

Her meal was interrupted when someone approached Rhea, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. Naomi watched as Rhea nodded briefly before turning her attention back to her.

"Mrs. Naomi," Rhea began, her tone calm and measured, "Mr. Zylan will not be joining you for lunch. He has matters to attend to here in the mansion."

Naomi blinked, her fork pausing mid-air. The words caught her off guard, though she couldn’t say why. The emphasis on "in the mansion" was subtle but unmistakable. Rhea’s words seemed to carry a reassurance that Zylan wasn’t truly leaving her side.

She nodded in understanding, unsure of how to respond. Something about the arrangement felt deliberate, as though Zylan had taken great care to ensure she was looked after, even in his absence. A warmth spread through her chest at the thought, though she didn’t fully understand why.

Rhea’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Mrs. Naomi, I would like you to rest well. It’s important to stay healthy, especially with the masquerade party coming up. You don’t need to stress yourself."

Naomi nodded again, grateful for Rhea’s concern. "Thank you," she murmured softly before returning her attention to her meal

While the chef who had prepared that particular dish Naomi had just taken bowed respectfully and quietly left the room.

The room settled into a comforting rhythm, the quiet movements of the staff and Rhea’s gentle presence creating a sense of calm.

Meanwhile, in a different part of the mansion, Rylan stood frozen, his eyes locked on Zylan with an expression of disbelief. His gaze was fixated on the golden streaks in Zylan’s hair, which stood out starkly against the dark strands.

"This can’t be happening," Rylan whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "It’s not supposed to happen..."

Zylan’s sharp voice broke the silence. "I’ll be leaving. Keep an eye on her."

Rylan snapped out of his daze, nodding quickly. "Yes, I will," he replied, though his voice was steadier than he felt.

But he couldn’t hold back any longer. "About your hair..."

Zylan’s expression darkened instantly. He turned to face Rylan, his tone icy. "I’ll meet her."

Rylan’s eyes widened in shock. "You mean the Leek-Vampire?"

Zylan’s curt nod was all the confirmation he needed.

The revelation left Rylan reeling. The Leek-Vampire was no ordinary figure. She was the last vampire with regenerative magic—a power so rare and dangerous that she was kept hidden from the world. Her existence was known only to the vampire council, and she emerged only once a year for their meetings. Yet, Zylan seemed to have his own ways of reaching her, even in emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

Rylan hesitated, the words clawing at his throat. "Did you have se—"

"Shut up," Zylan snapped, his voice cold and unyielding. "I didn’t."

But Rylan’s curiosity couldn’t be silenced. "Do you think Noella is alive?"

The question hung in the air like a blade.

Zylan’s eyes turned icy, locking onto Rylan with a gaze that froze him in place. His voice was low and frigid when he finally spoke. "She isn’t. She’s dead."

Rylan swallowed hard, his unease growing. Still, he pressed on cautiously. "Does she know? Is your wife aware that you’ve been married before?"

"She does not need to know," Zylan said sharply, his tone final and brooking no argument.

Yet, Rylan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. If Noella was truly gone, what could possibly be causing this? His thoughts spiraled as the signs he’d seen began to reawaken long-buried doubts—doubts he dared not voice aloud.