บททั้งหมดของ My Mate Chose My Best Friend, So His Uncle Claimed Me: บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

The world narrowed to the space between us as Lucretius began to lift my skirt, the fabric whispering against my skin in the cool night air.My breath hitched, a sharp, audible intake of anticipation as I watched him lower himself to his knees before me. The powerful, indomitable man who commanded armies and senates was now kneeling at my feet, an offering of utter devotion.My fingers found their way into his hair again, gently clutching the dark strands, grounding myself against the overwhelming swell of emotion and desire. He looked up at me, his gaze burning with an intensity that promised both worship and ruin. He held my eyes as he reached beneath the hem of my skirt, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path up my thigh until they found the flimsy lace of my panties. There was a pause, a heartbeat of suspended silence, and then with a sharp, decisive tug, he tore them. The fabric gave way with a rending sound that was shockingly loud in the quiet garden, and a sharp gasp es

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up. "Come in."The study room opened. Father entered carrying a silver tea tray, the porcelain clinking gently with each careful step. My expression softened immediately. "Father..."A soft, gentle smile appeared on his face. It was his usual smile every time he saw his beloved daughter. "There, you are, my little moon."My breath hitched at the endearment he used to call me since I was little. It melted my heart instantly as the scent of the chrysanthemum tea reached me first."You made it?" I asked softly."Of course." He set the tray down carefully like the small ceremony of it almost endearing. I watched as the way he arranged the cup and poured with more precision than the task strictly required before taking the seat across from me.For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It never was with him. Instead, it felt comfortable and familiar. It felt like... home.I thanked Father for serving me the tea and wra

By the time the sun began its slow descent beyond the city, painting the sky in amber and fading gold, I had already brought several documents back from the Trade House.The study room inside the Caelthorn residence looked exactly as it always did whenever I worked from home. Ledgers stacked at the left corner of the desk, precisely where I always kept them. Contracts arranged by date, oldest to newest, the way my father had taught me before I was old enough to understand what half of them said. Merchant reports. Shipping manifests. Correspondence that had been waiting patiently for my attention since morning.Several stacks of paperwork occupied the desk before me.Normally, I would have finished half of it by now.Instead, I found myself staring at the same report for far too long, my eyes skimming the opening paragraph and then sliding off the page entirely, drifting somewhere between the words and nowhere in particular.I returned to the beginning.Again.A quiet sigh escaped me.

The negotiation chamber inside the Caelthorn Trade House was unusually quiet.Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows overlooking the city, falling in long, clean lines across the polished mahogany table occupying the center of the room. Documents had already been arranged neatly before me. Every report relevant to the failed negotiation, every contract, every figure that told the story of exactly how thoroughly House of Valmere had overplayed its hand. Tea had been prepared. Everything was in its place.Everything was ready.All that remained was for the lord of the House of Valmere to arrive.My fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of my chair before I stilled them purposely. Outside the chamber, the Trade House continued operating with its usual morning rhythm. Employees walked the corridors carrying ledgers and correspondence. Merchants discussed shipments in the rooms below. Servants moved in and out of offices with the unhurried efficiency of people who had no r

Marcelo didn't answer immediately.He simply looked at me.The silence stretched between us, long enough that I could almost hear the ticking of the clock hanging against the far wall. His fingers remained loosely intertwined atop the polished table, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the subtle rigidity I had noticed the moment he entered the room.He was thinking and choosing his next move. Just like he always did.Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. It wasn't genuine.It never was.It was the same smile he had worn countless times during political gatherings and trade negotiations throughout our marriage. The kind carefully crafted to appear approachable while revealing absolutely nothing underneath."I suppose..." he began at last, breaking the silence with a quiet chuckle, "...this negotiation is already proving rather different from our previous one."The memory surfaced before I could stop it. This very room. The same polished table. The same morning light pourin