Chapter 195 The Misunderstanding Deepens

Chapter 195: Chapter 195 The Misunderstanding Deepens

​The subterranean laboratory fell into total stillness.

​Dorian sat alone in a small, private office located just beside the primary research room. The door was firmly closed, shutting out the faint humming noise of the large computer servers outside. The overhead lights were dimmed down to a low setting, casting long shadows across the neat desk.

​His encrypted phone rested on the polished surface directly in front of him.

​He picked it up, tapped the glowing screen, and started the security footage playback one more time.

​He watched the whole scene unfold across the restaurant entrance hall. He saw the sudden argument, Veyra standing perfectly calm while surrounded by hostiles, Naya Whitmore sneering with arrogant entitlement, and the swift, crisp slap that followed.

​He replayed the short clip three times in a row. Each time he watched it, his sharp eyes picked up on three distinct, unexpected details that he had overlooked during the first viewing.

​First, Naya Whitmore clearly recognized Veyra’s face and identity. She was not treating her like a random stranger. She knew exactly who Veyra was and was well aware that she was legally married to him.

​Second, Wesley Wynn had given Veyra an official high-tier VIP card belonging to the Ravenwood Society. It was the very same black card Veyra had pulled out to shut down the arrogant restaurant manager, Victor Grant.

​Third, Veyra had actually raised her own hand and slapped Naya Whitmore right across the face in a wide-open public space, surrounded by dozens of high-society witnesses.

​Dorian tapped the screen to pause the video feed right on a close-up frame.

​Naya’s face was completely frozen on the digital display. Her eyes were wide with shock, her mouth was hanging half-open, and her hand was mid-air as she tried to touch her red cheek.

​Dorian leaned back against his chair, his mind tracing back to the night of the high-profile charity gala. He remembered how Naya had brazenly snatched his personal phone out of his grip and scrolled through his private photos, coming across that clear photograph of Veyra standing alongside Xavier Lala.

​That was precisely how she had recognized Veyra today.

​He was completely certain of it now.

​He made a silent mental note to deal with Naya Whitmore and her family’s political standing when the timing was right. For now, however, he needed to make sense of the other surprising elements in the video.

​He hit the play button once more, watching the sequence of events unfold.

​He stared closely at the sleek black VIP card bearing the crest of the Ravenwood Society.

​Truth be told, the presence of that card did not shock Dorian in the slightest.

​He was already fully aware that Wesley Wynn had offered Veyra the powerful position of deputy leader within the society, an offer Veyra had politely turned down. But Wesley was a patient, calculating man who never gave up easily. Handing her that top-tier card was simply his way of keeping a door open, granting her personal protection, and keeping her tied to his inner circle.

​It was classic Wesley behavior through and through.

​Dorian dismissed that detail from his thoughts and focused on the climax of the footage.

​He replayed the exact second the slap landed.

​Veyra’s palm made clean, firm contact with Naya’s cheek. Even without sound, the force behind the strike was obvious from the sudden snap of Naya’s head.

​Dorian stared intently at Veyra’s face on the screen, analyzing her posture, her eyes, and her breath control before and after the blow.

​She was not acting out of wild anger, nor was she throwing a mindless temper tantrum. She was completely composed, level-headed, and fully aware of her surroundings.

​She knew Naya was completely in the wrong. She knew the security cameras and nearby patrons were watching every move. She knew she had complete logical grounds to defend her own honor against slanderous insults.

​She had slapped Naya because she intentionally chose to deliver a hard lesson, not because she had lost control of her emotions.

​A rare feeling of deep admiration washed through Dorian as he watched her calm demeanor.

​He picked up his phone, unlocked the secure messaging app, and typed out a short message to Leon.

​Keep a tight watch over her every move. Naya Whitmore will certainly not take this humiliation lying down.

​Leon’s response flashed back across the screen within seconds.

​Understood, sir. I am on full alert.

​Dorian set the mobile device flat on the desk, locking the screen. He leaned his head back against the soft leather headrest and closed his eyes for a moment.

​Without warning, his thoughts drifted back to the previous night inside the manor. He remembered Veyra thrashing around in the middle of a terrible nightmare, her loud cries filling the dark room, and the bitter tears soaking her cheeks.

​He had held her tightly in his arms and tried his best to soothe her distress, but he was still completely in the dark about what had caused it.

​What terrible memory had she revisited in her sleep? What ghost from her past had broken her calm demeanor so completely?

​He felt a deep, pressing urgency to find out the truth behind her hidden pain.

​Ten minutes later, he left the underground facility and stepped out into the night air.

​The long drive back toward the Thorne estate was completely quiet. The bright city streetlights blurred together into glowing lines as the vehicle sped down the highway. The late-night roads were almost entirely deserted.

​Throughout the ride, his mind remained fixated on Veyra. He thought about her sharp independence, the quiet strength she displayed in front of enemies, and the sudden, fragile vulnerability she had shown in her sleep. He remembered how tightly her small hands had gripped his shirt, only for her to pull back into her guarded shell the moment morning arrived.

​He did not fully understand the complex workings of her heart, but he was determined to learn every layer.

​The long black car finally turned off the main road and glided through the iron security gates of the estate.

​The grand manor stood tall under the night sky. Most of the floor windows were dark, signaling that the house servants had already retired to their quarters for the night.

​The driver brought the car to a smooth stop right in front of the wide entrance steps, but Dorian made no move to open his door.

​He remained seated in the quiet vehicle for five full minutes, staring out at the stone steps.

​He needed a few quiet moments to steady his breathing, clear his cluttered thoughts, and compose his face into his usual calm mask before stepping inside to face her.

​He took one deep, controlled breath, followed by another.

​Satisfied with his composure, he pushed the car door open, stepped out into the cool air, and walked straight into the house.

​When he walked upstairs and pushed open the heavy wooden door to the main bedroom, he found Veyra sitting inside.

​She had already washed up and changed into a light nightgown. Her dark hair was untied, falling loosely over her shoulders, and her face was completely fresh without any makeup.

​She was sitting quietly near the edge of the mattress, her fingers lightly intertwined in her lap.

​She looked up the moment she heard the door handle click open.

​The second her eyes landed on Dorian, a bright flush of red crept up her neck and filled her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, staring down at the carpet as if she suddenly found the floor pattern deeply interesting.

​It was obvious she was feeling intensely self-conscious. Dorian could read her body language instantly from the way her eyes darted around and her fingers fidgeted nervously against her silk gown.

​She was clearly feeling embarrassed about her emotional breakdown from the night before, remembering how she had sobbed in his arms and begged him not to let her go.

​Yet, alongside that obvious embarrassment, there was a hesitation in her posture that suggested she was waiting to bring up a specific topic.

​Dorian closed the door softly behind him and stepped further into the warm room.

​He was just about to open his mouth to break the awkward quietness, planning to ask if she was feeling better after her bad dream.

​However, before he could utter a single word, his eyes caught a tiny visual detail that made his words freeze in his throat.

​The left strap of her light silk nightgown had slipped slightly off her shoulder. It had drifted down just a fraction of an inch, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone and the soft skin beneath the dim bedroom lights.

​Dorian’s breath hitched slightly in his chest.

​All the careful emotional control and mental calm he had painstakingly built up during those ten minutes in the parked car vanished into complete turmoil in a single second.

​He quickly turned his head to the side, looking away before she could catch him staring.

​Veyra, still completely wrapped up in her own inner embarrassment, did not notice his sudden loss of composure. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on her own hands.

​She was the first to speak into the quiet room.

​"Dorian," she called out softly, her voice light and hesitant.

​He kept his face turned away for an extra second to regain his voice. "Yes?"

​Veyra took a small, controlled breath, lifted her chin, and forced herself to look directly into his dark eyes, though her gaze flickered nervously before settling on his collar.

​"I am having a very difficult time trying to fall asleep tonight," she admitted quietly.

​Dorian remained completely silent, waiting for her to continue.

​"The small bottle of essential oil," she said, pausing briefly as she picked her words carefully. "The sleep-aid blend I gave to you a while ago."

​She cleared her throat slightly before pressing on. "I was wondering if I could borrow it back from you for a short while. Just to use for tonight."

​Dorian felt a sudden, cold jolt hit the back of his neck.

​The sleep-aid essential oil.

​The exact same bottle he had coldly thrown directly into the trash bin in a fit of irritation days ago.

​He knew he had the option to tell her the direct truth right now. He could admit he had thrown it out, apologize for his harsh reaction, and explain why he had been so unreasonable that day.

​Yet his overwhelming pride refused to let him admit his fault. He could not bear the thought of letting her know he had discarded her thoughtful gift so heartlessly, nor did he want her to view him as a cruel man.

​So, keeping his face perfectly blank, he spoke a deliberate lie.

​"I no longer have it with me," Dorian stated, his tone smooth and unreadable. "I accidentally left it behind in my hotel suite back in the Etran Empire during my business trip."

​Veyra blinked her dark eyes in quiet surprise, her lips parting slightly. "Oh. I see."

​"My apologies," he added smoothly.

​"It is quite alright," Veyra replied, lowering her gaze back down to her lap. "I will manage fine on my own."

​Dorian offered no further explanation, standing in the middle of the room in uncomfortable silence.