All Chapters of The Vampire King's Obsession : Chapter 311 - Chapter 320

Dante's POVI let the conversation go on because Christopher wasn't angry or hurt, but the moment the little shit completed his final sentence and Christopher's facial expression changed, I decided it was time to show him I wasn’t just a silent sponsor.He stood up to follow Christopher, regret flooding his face, but I stopped him."Do not follow my boyfriend," I said, pushing him back into his chair."Let go of me, fucking prick," he said, but I didn’t."He wants to be left alone, so you will leave him alone," I said, and he growled."What will you do if I don’t?" he asked angrily.He was already drawing attention from a crowd."I will destroy you, your father, your family, and everyone related to you for at least six generations back," I said, and he froze."That's all you can do, throw money around. You inherited it, you didn’t work hard for it," he said, and I shrugged."Well, I don’t care. It's mine to do as I please with, and if destroying you and your family is what pleases me,

Christopher's POVWhy did she say that? I was trying to figure out why. How could she? After everything that happened, she had the audacity to lose her memory and more so, she could be accepting.That meant that five years ago if I had been gay she wouldn't have minded. That meant the only factoring agent to why my loving Dante was an issue was Ashley.She did all that to me because of Ashley.She destroyed her relationship with her son permanently because of someone she didn't even know.It made it even worse somehow.I was angry.Very angry.Because all this meant that while they had loved me, they had loved Ashley more. What she wanted mattered. How she felt mattered, even when it meant she was hurting me.They didn't care about me enough to stop and do anything for me.She kept threatening me even after she found out Ashley was a fraud.Even after Ashley was no longer in the picture... The idea of Ashley was still a lot better than the existence of me.I hated it. I hated it so mu

Christopher’s POV I woke up with a heaviness in my chest, the kind that made even laying down feel like work. The air smelled like coffee and butter, like my parents house in the morning when my mum was making breakfast for my dad and I. I was in my parents house but my dad wasn't there. He was never going to be there I tried to calm myself down but it only made my stomach twist. I dragged myself out of bed, every step toward the stairs feeling like a damn punishment. I wasn’t ready. Not for her. Not after what happened last night. I didn't want to look at her and know that she knew but didn't care. Now that I had lost someone. now that it was a little too late. But I went anyway. And when I hit the last step, my whole world paused at the sight in front of me. There they were, Dante at the stove, moving like he belonged there, spatula in hand, flipping eggs like a pro. My mom sitting in her wheel chair across from him, laughing and eating her breakfast. Laughing. Her eyes

Dante’s POV I watched from the background, as I always did. Not because I wasn’t wanted, but because I needed to be the shadow. I needed to give them space to heal. I wanted Christopher to have time with his mother. Time to us vampires was fleeting. it was a truth he'd learn as we grew. These moments with her were going to matter to him in a few centuries when he had no living relative left. When he was all on his own. Because he'd chosen a vampire to love. A very selfish one. I was also standing there . A reminder that I was always there, watching, listening, making sure she didn’t say something she couldn’t take back. It wasn’t the same between them. I doubted it ever would be. she had hurt him too much betrayed him in a way that was irreparable. Still, there was progress. Slow, uneven progress, but progress all the same. And she knew it. I could see it in the way she softened when she looked at him. The way her words caught in her throat before she spoke, careful now, af

Christopher’s Mom’s POV That woman. That vile, pompous, arrogant, judgmental bitch. If curses had wings, they would’ve flown out of my mouth and circled Mrs. Bukly like vultures until she dropped dead in the middle of this gym. I was seething, boiling inside my chest, but on the outside, I smiled the tight, fake smile of a lady who refused to give her enemy the satisfaction of seeing her crack. I hated her audacity, the way she leaned down like I was some poor broken thing, her hand patting mine as though I needed her pity. Pity from her, of all people. The way she gloated about her pies, her wins, her fake memories of my husband sneaking back to her stall. Lies. All lies. My husband would never, he had never. I cursed her inside, cursed her powdered face, her smug lips, her entire bloodline. No wonder your children don't come to see you. Those words were on the tip of my lips but I held them back. I turned my chair, still trying to shake her poison off me, and that’s when my