Chapter 150: Did You Two Fight?

The afternoon sunlight spills across my face like honey poured from a jar that’s been left too long in the sun—thick, golden, almost unbearable in its gentleness. It seeps through my eyelids, warm and insistent, pulling me from the depths of a sleep I didn’t want to leave.

For a moment, I just lie there, suspended in that strange space between waking and sleeping.

I open my eyes slowly. The brightness is too much, yet soft at the same time, filtering through the glass wall of my room and casting long golden rectangles across the floor. Dust motes dance in the light, lazy and indifferent.

It’s been three days since I returned from X Country.

Since then, I’ve cut myself off from the world—from the noise, from everything.

I sit up slowly. The blanket pools around my waist, a soft, comforting weight against my legs. I run a hand through my tangled, unwashed hair, a testament to the days I’ve spent doing little more than existing. My fingers catch on a knot, and I tug it loose with a grimace.

How long did I sleep?

The question drifts through my mind, unanswered. I don’t really care. Sleep has been the only escape, the only place where the silence isn’t filled with his voice.

My gaze drifts to the glass wall. The sun is out today—warm and steady, melting the snow that has clung to the garden. Water drips from the eaves in slow, measured drops, each one a quiet surrender to the heat.

For the first time in days, the sky is clear. No snow. Just light. Just warmth. It should feel like a relief.

But it doesn’t.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table. The screen glows to life, and a flood of notifications greets me—Ian’s messages and missed calls stacked one after another like stones in a wall.

I scroll through them, my thumb moving mechanically, my eyes skimming the words without really seeing them.

Sir, as you ordered, all the locks and passcodes have been changed.

Sir, are you alright? Please let me know if you need anything.

I’m sorry, sir. I tried my best to keep your return from X Country confidential, but Mr. Chairman found out somehow. He’s asking you to visit him.

Sir, Mr. Chairman has been asking about you. Please reply if you see my messages.

I scroll farther, past the concern, past the urgency, past the careful professionalism Ian wraps around every word like a shield.

Sir... Mr. Chairman is asking why you aren’t answering his calls or coming to see him.

Please pay him a visit. He’s getting angry.

I don’t reply. I don’t call. I lock the screen and toss the phone onto the bed. It lands with a soft, hollow thud.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet, a sharp, grounding contrast to the warmth of the room. I slide into my slippers—they feel loose, as though I’ve shrunk inside myself—and walk out of my room.

The hallway stretches before me, silent and bathed in golden afternoon light pouring through the tall windows.

I keep walking. The motion is automatic, mechanical—my body moving while my mind remains somewhere else.

My fists clench at my sides.

I know why Dad wants to see me. He wants to know why I came back. Why I left their precious Beta behind.

Or maybe that liar has already said something to them. After all, he’s so innocent in front of them.

Their perfect choice for me. Their sweet, silent, obedient son-in-law.

Then something pulls me from my thoughts. A sound drifts from the kitchen. My steps slow.

My steps slow.

The house is supposed to be empty. Ian already changed all the locks and passcodes.

Then who is in the kitchen?

My jaw tightens. A familiar fear coils in my chest.

Don’t tell me...

He’s here...

I step forward cautiously, my feet silent against the polished marble floor. I peer around the doorway.

Someone is pouring coffee into two mugs—unhurried, familiar movements, as though they’ve done it a hundred times before.

As I step inside, he looks up at me, and a bright smile spreads across his face.

"You’re awake, Mr. Charming."

My clenched fists loosen. My shoulders drop a fraction. I stare at him.

Sum.

His gaze runs over me from head to toe, taking in my pale face, tangled hair, and the red, swollen rims of my eyes, still raw from days of crying I couldn’t stop. His smile falters—just for a moment—before he forces it back into place.

He walks toward me and offers me a mug of coffee. Steam curls between us, carrying the bitter, grounding aroma of dark roast.

"Who are you?" He tilts his head, his voice teasing, but his eyes are soft with concern. "Can you tell me where my Mr. Charming is?"

A faint smirk tugs at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

"I seem to have lost him."

I take the mug without a word and walk into the living room.

Why the hell did I expect him to be here?

Sum follows me, his footsteps light against the floor. I sink onto the couch and bring the mug to my lips. The coffee is bitter and strong—just the way I like it. The familiar taste grounds me, if only a little, pulling me back from the edge of wherever I’ve been drifting.

My voice is flat. Empty.

"When did you get here? And how did you get in?"

Sum settles across from me, leaning back with practiced ease, his own mug cradled in his hands. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes remain fixed on me, studying me with quiet, careful attention.

"Your cute secretary, of course." He grins, but it’s thinner than usual, a fragile thing stretched over something deeper.

"Uncle Elias has been pressuring him, and you haven’t been answering calls or replying to messages. So he came to me for help."

He pauses before adding with a crooked smile, "You know I can’t resist when a cute Alpha asks me for help."

I don’t answer. I shift my gaze to the glass wall, staring at the garden beyond—white and still, blanketed in snow. The trees stand bare, their branches etched against the pale sky like veins.

Sum sets his mug down. The soft clink of ceramic against wood seems too loud in the silence.

"Ellis." His voice is stripped of its playfulness now, raw and direct. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously?" His voice sharpens, cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Ellis, we’re best friends. Since when do you hide things from me?"

I still don’t answer. I can’t. The words are lodged somewhere in my chest, tangled in the knots I’ve been trying to ignore for the past three days.

He leans forward, his gaze searching mine, trying to find a way through the walls I’ve built.

"Look at yourself. You look like a corpse." He pauses. "Ian told me everything. How you suddenly came back from X Country. And how you didn’t even bring Silas with you."

Another pause. His voice softens, becoming almost gentle.

"Did you two fight?"

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and unanswerable.

Fight?