Chapter 181 Two Hearts Wide Awake

Chapter 181: Chapter 181 Two Hearts Wide Awake

​The walk-in closet was dimly lit, secluded from the main bedroom area.

​Dorian stood quietly near the built-in shelving, the mobile phone pressed firmly against his ear. His voice remained extremely low, almost a whisper, while his strong jaw was clamped tightly in frustration.

​"Is there anything else I need to be aware of?" he asked coldly into the receiver.

​Leon was silent on the other end of the line for a short moment before answering.

​"No, sir. Mrs. Thorne has not experienced any other major incidents or safety threats throughout this past week."

​Dorian gave a faint, single nod into the dark space. "Good."

​He was just about to end the call and put the phone away, but he paused mid-motion. A sudden thought crossed his mind.

​"Has Caspian made any attempts to contact her recently? Or anyone else connected to the Solenne family, for that matter?"

​Leon hesitated slightly before responding. "I am not entirely sure, sir. She has not mentioned any phone calls or messages from them to me."

​Dorian’s jaw tightened even further, his eyes narrowing in the darkness. "Keep a close eye on them. Find out if they try anything behind her back."

​"Understood, sir. I will look into it right away."

​Dorian was once again about to tap the screen to disconnect the call when Leon spoke up quickly.

​"Sir, there is actually one more detail worth noting."

​Dorian raised an eyebrow, his tone turning sharp. "What detail?"

​"It is regarding Jade, the interior designer Mrs. Thorne is working with. She comes from a very specific background."

​Dorian went completely still, his interest piqued. "What kind of background?"

​"She is the direct granddaughter of Master Lawrence Crane."

​Dorian stayed motionless for a long second, processing the weight of that name.

Lawrence Crane. It was a name that carried massive influence in prestigious circles across the world. He was a legendary figure in the high-end art world, a master painter, an elite collector, and a man whose personal network spanned across multiple continents.

​Yet his blood granddaughter was casually helping Veyra design a modest local milk tea shop.

​Dorian remained quiet, his mind evaluating the hidden angles of the situation. Finally, he spoke up again.

​"Do not mention a single word about this connection to Veyra," he instructed firmly. "Not just yet."

​"Understood, sir."

​With that final instruction, Dorian ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

​He stood alone inside the quiet walk-in closet for a long, heavy moment.

​His mind was working fast, sifting through the unexpected pieces of information. Lawrence Crane’s granddaughter working beside her, the plans for a new storefront, the bold threats from Xander Hale, and that terrifying midnight breakdown in her bed.

​Veyra was actively building something real. She was surrounding herself with skilled individuals, asserting her independence, and quietly constructing a distinct future for herself.

​Yet behind that strong exterior, she was hiding deep, painful secrets. The violent nightmare, the heartbreaking scream in the dark, and those bitter tears spoke of a heavy past.

​He had seen her lose all her composure tonight. He had held her trembling body close to his chest and felt the raw weight of her pain firsthand.

​Still, he couldn’t make full sense of it.

​Veyra was simply not the type of woman to be easily terrified by a random, meaningless bad dream. She possessed a strong, stubborn spirit. She had fearlessly stood up to dangerous street thugs, arrogant university professors, and cold corporate rivals without flinching once.

​Whatever scenario had haunted her sleep tonight was not a light fantasy. It was a real event, a dark piece of history that had actually happened to her years ago.

​A restless, anxious knot tied itself deep inside Dorian’s chest. He felt completely frustrated by his inability to understand the true depth of her thoughts.

​He finally stepped out of the closet and walked slowly over toward the adjoining bathroom door.

​He reached out his hand, grabbed the round metallic handle, and turned it gently to go inside.

​The handle didn’t budge at all.

​He tried again, applying a bit more pressure to the grip, but it remained completely stiff.

​She had securely locked the door from the inside.

​Dorian stood frozen in front of the smooth door for a few seconds, his hand resting uselessly against the cold metal knob while his face turned dark.

​A vivid memory suddenly surfaced in his mind. He recalled the hidden chamber behind the wall, the secret room where he had been quietly inspecting the specialized bulletproof vest weeks ago. He remembered stepping out unexpected into her space while she was in the middle of changing her clothes.

​She had been deeply embarrassed and furious back then, clutching her clothes to her chest while demanding to know why he was suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

​She had obviously turned the deadbolt tonight to ensure he couldn’t accidentally walk in on her ever again.

​Dorian understood her reason completely, and he couldn’t blame her for protecting her privacy.

​Yet a strange, uncomfortable sensation flared up in his chest regardless. It was a mix of sharp frustration, distance, and a deep physical awareness of her that he didn’t want to acknowledge out loud.

​He slowly pulled his hand back from the locked door and took a step back.

​He quickly told himself that it was nothing significant. It was just a simple physical reaction, a basic biological response to being close to an attractive woman. It had absolutely nothing to do with genuine affection or love.

​He was certain he didn’t love her. His heart was already given to Iris, the gentle woman who had rescued him years ago, the woman whose face was etched deep into his fondest memories.

​Veyra was merely the mother of his child, bound to him through a temporary arrangement and nothing more.

​He repeatedly whispered those cold facts inside his head, trying to make them stick like a daily rule or a protective shield.

​However, the familiar logic felt strangely hollow and empty tonight.

​He turned his back on the locked door, walked over to the long sofa sitting in the sitting area of the bedroom, and lay down on his back.

​He rested his hands behind his head, staring silently up at the shadowy patterns on the high ceiling.

​On the other side of the spacious room, Veyra was just as far from sleep.

​She was lying completely still on the wide mattress, the heavy duvet pulled all the way up to her chin. Her eyes were wide open in the quiet room, her thoughts spinning out of control.

​Her mind kept wandering back to the dark details of her childhood nightmare. She could still clearly see the sinister smile drawn on the clown mask, the cold barrel of the gun pointing in the, and the bright pool of blood surrounding her mother’s body on the kitchen floor.

​At the same time, her thoughts kept drifting right back to Dorian. She couldn’t shake off the memory of how he had held her close, how solid and warm his broad chest had felt against her wet face, or how surprisingly gentle his voice had sounded when he comforted her.

​She had managed to thank him properly, but she had also rushed to push him away, retreating under her blankets to put distance between them.

​She had carefully rebuilt her defensive walls to protect her heart.

​Yet, despite all her efforts to remain cold and independent, she could still feel the lingering phantom warmth of his touch on her shoulders.

​She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to force herself to drift off.

​It was completely useless. Sleep simply would not come.

​The long, quiet night dragged on endlessly around them.

​Dorian lay still on the leather sofa, his hands locked behind his neck, his gaze fixed permanently on the dark ceiling overhead.

​Veyra remained curled into a tight ball on the far side of the soft bed, her chest tight as her mind stayed trapped in a loop of painful childhood memories and confusing new emotions.

​Neither of them managed to close their eyes for rest.

​Neither of them uttered a single word into the vast silence of the room.

​They were sharing the exact same physical space, just feet away from one another, yet their guarded hearts remained miles apart in the dark.

​Throughout that long night, neither Veyra nor Dorian could find a single moment of real sleep, leaving them both completely lost in the unending storm of their own private thoughts.