The More I Invest in My Wives, the Stronger I Become
Chapter 68: Night Visitors
Lucien was deep in a ranked match when Yuna’s voice came through the phone again.
"So after the wedding, are you going to stop gaming all night?"
Lucien snorted, thumbs moving fast across the screen.
"Why would I? Marriage is not a prison sentence."
"It might become one if you ignore your wife."
"I am an excellent future husband," Lucien said proudly. "I already planned the honeymoon. Game store first, then"
A soft shift of air moved behind him.
Lucien froze.
In the corner of his room, the shadow stretched unnaturally. Then a figure stepped out of it white hair, sharp eyes, and a presence far too real for a late-night hallucination.
Lucien screamed.
"THERE IS A GHOST IN MY ROOM!"
On the other end of the call, Yuna went silent for half a second.
"...What?"
Sana tilted her head, clearly entertained.
"A ghost?"
Lucien scrambled backward on his chair so hard it nearly flipped.
"White hair! From the wall! Yuna, if I die, delete my browser history!"
Sana stared at him.
"I am not a ghost."
Lucien pointed at her with a shaking finger.
"That is exactly what a ghost would say!"
Sana sighed, stepped fully into the light, and flicked his forehead.
"Focus. It is me."
Lucien blinked hard.
"...Sana?"
"Yes."
Yuna’s voice came weakly through the phone.
"Lucien... should I call the police?"
"No," Lucien said quickly, still pale. "False alarm. Just... a living nightmare with white hair."
Sana folded her arms, unimpressed.
"You scream too loudly for someone who claims to be B-Rank."
"That is different," Lucien muttered. "Monsters I can handle. Random women climbing out of my wall at midnight is another category."
Sana ignored the complaint and became serious.
"We have a lead. Kassia is connected to Apex. Daemon wants us moving. Get ready. We are going in."
Lucien’s playful expression faded at once. He set the phone aside, match abandoned mid-screen.
"...Understood."
Back at the Hale estate, the house had grown quiet after dinner.
Roxanna was given a separate guest room. Victoria returned to her own room with Calista still clinging close to her side, clearly unwilling to leave her.
Daemon was shown to another room down the hall.
He paused at Victoria’s door for a second longer than necessary.
Victoria noticed.
"Not tonight," she said softly, glancing at Calista already settled near the bed. "She is staying with me."
Daemon exhaled and nodded.
"Alright."
He went to his room alone.
The bed was comfortable. The estate was safe enough for the moment. Still, sleep came slowly. His mind kept turning through too many things Kassia, Apex, Calista’s voice, Evelyn’s shocked face in the bathroom, and the pressure building under every answer they still did not have.
Even with walls and servants around them, the night did not feel fully secure.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under.
Sometime past midnight, the door opened without a sound.
Daemon stirred at the shift of air, half-awake, until a familiar presence crossed the room. Victoria closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment in the dark, red hair loose over her shoulders, breathing a little too carefully.
"Victoria?"
She did not answer with words.
She crossed to the bed, climbed over him, and kissed him before he could sit up fully. The kiss was not soft.
It carried the weight of days spent apart, danger endured, and a need she had clearly stopped restraining.
Daemon’s hands found her waist at once.
Clothes came away in hurried layers. Victoria’s fingers traced over his chest, then lower, impatient and certain. When he pulled her down against him, she made a quiet sound into his mouth and pressed closer, heat against heat.
Her skin was warm, almost feverish, and every movement said she had been holding this back for too long.
There was no long teasing tonight.
Victoria guided him into her with a sharp breath, forehead dropping against his as her body took him fully.
For a second neither of them moved. Then she rolled her hips, slow at first, then deeper, chasing the friction she wanted.
Daemon gripped her thighs and met her rhythm.
The bed whispered under them. Victoria’s breath broke into soft, controlled moans against his neck as she moved faster. He sat up midway, pulling her tighter into his lap, one hand tangled in her red hair while the other steadied her lower back.
Every thrust drew another suppressed sound from her, hotter and less restrained than before.
"Daemon..."
His name left her lips like a demand.
He turned them over without pulling out, pressing her into the mattress, and drove deeper. Victoria’s legs locked around him. Her nails bit lightly into his shoulders as pleasure tightened through her body.
The pace grew rougher, hungrier, until she arched under him with a broken gasp and came hard around him.
Daemon followed soon after, buried deep, breath harsh against her collarbone as release hit him in a heavy wave.
For a while, they stayed joined, damp skin cooling in the quiet room.
Victoria eventually shifted just enough to rest against his chest, eyes half-lidded, fingers idly tracing his arm.
"I could not sleep," she murmured.
Daemon gave a low, tired smile.
"I noticed."
She huffed softly, but did not move away. Within minutes, the exhaustion of the day and the afterglow pulled them both under. Victoria remained in his arms, breathing evenly, red hair spilled across the pillow.
Daemon slept deeper this time.
He did not hear the door open the second time.
A thin line of hallway light cut across the floor, then vanished as the door shut again. Soft footsteps crossed the room with careful precision.
No hesitation. No wasted movement. The air itself seemed to thin around the bed.
A figure stopped beside them.
In the dark, metal caught a faint sheen.
A knife.
The blade lowered slowly toward Daemon’s sleeping form.
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