CHAPTER 138: CAREFUL, PRINCESS.

"You don’t like me?" Hades asked her.

What was this? Was he doing it on purpose?

What was she supposed to say?

The table waited. The room itself seemed to wait. Even the air stilled, as if afraid to disturb the silence before her answer.

Her lips parted, but no sound came at first. She could feel her pulse pounding in her neck, her palms damp against the fabric of her dress. Her eyes darted, just once, to the Patriarch, stiff and confused, and then to Dawin, too still. Van leaned back, entertained, lips twitching with a private smirk.

Alice looked back at Hades. "I don’t... not like you."

It was out before she could polish it. A clumsy, stuttering attempt at survival that hung in the air.

Hades tilted his head slowly, watching her squirm. His voice, steady, cut her hesitation apart. "Make it make sense."

Alice gripped the edge of her seat. "I mean—I don’t... hate you."

Her voice wavered, too thin, too fragile, but she forced it out anyway.

The silence stretched once again. Every pair of eyes at the table was still locked on her. On them. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears.

Hades didn’t let her go.

"So..." His voice dropped lower, deliberate. He pinched his earlobe, gaze steady on her. "You like me?"

God, why was he doing this here? In front of all of them? Her chest tightened, breath shallow.

To the others, it felt like they were watching something they were not supposed to watch.

This was so awkward for everyone, except Gavin, who just wanted to stand up and leave, and of course the perpetrator of this, Hades. It was as if he forgot where they were.

Rude.

Alice laughed, the sound hollow, scraping her throat on its way out. "Of course I like you. I mean... you’re my husband."

The words rang false even to her own ears. A declaration that wasn’t a declaration, an admission that was more surrender than confession. Her hands shook under the table as she added, "I wouldn’t hate my own husband, would I?"

And then, because the silence had grown unbearable, she laughed again. Awkward, brittle, too high-pitched. A sound meant to defuse, but instead it fractured the air.

No one laughed with her.

Hades only stared, unreadable.

Van’s lips curved, amused. Dawin’s eyes darkened, unreadable shadows running behind them. Suzy tilted her head, gaze sharp.

The elders were... lost.

Gavin’s hand twitched as if he wanted to slam the table, say something, save the situation or whatever, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t know if this was the kind of battlefield he was allowed to enter. He wasn’t sure what Hades was thinking. But it had to be either of one or both: trying to make her less nervous about whatever was eating her up by creating a more awkward atmosphere for her (which was silly, by the way, but then again, Hades took advice from Milo, so expectations were already low). Or second, trying to stake claim in front of everyone as he was suspicious about this dinner. Not just because of Dawin.

Thankfully, the Matriarch helped the mood.

A genteel, airy laugh that seemed to attempt to scatter the tension like dust.

"Ah... brothers," she said, waving a hand, her voice forced light as she looked at her husband and then at Suzy’s parents, "they’re simply joking, teasing her. As men do."

Her hand lifted, graceful, dismissive. But her eyes flickered between Alice and Hades with the sharpness of a hawk.

Alice’s lungs tightened with relief. An out. Finally.

She was completely parched now and reached for her glass of water with shaky hands.

But then, a question hit her mid-sip.

"So when are we to expect a baby from you?" The Matriarch asked Alice and, for some reason, her eyes flicked to Dawin.

The liquid went the wrong way. Alice choked. Hard.

The sound exploded in the silence. Water splattered onto her dress. Her chest heaved as she coughed violently, struggling to swallow, struggling to breathe.

Hades’s hand was immediately on her back, steady, controlled. He rubbed between her shoulder blades with slow circles, leaning closer, his voice low and unhurried, the exact opposite of what she felt inside.

"Careful... princess."

The word burned hotter than the water in her throat.

She coughed harder, as if her body was rejecting not the drink but his touch, his calmness, the intimacy of that single word.

Princess.

What—

Why... where did that come from?

Only the Hades in her dream ever called her that. And in that gentle tone.

Her heart raced.

Alice forced the cough down, gripping the edge of the table like an anchor, her pulse screaming in her ears. "I— I’m fine," she rasped, placing the glass back before her hands betrayed her further.

That was when Hades spoke, his voice cleanly slicing through the thick silence as he looked at the Matriarch, all shades of playfulness gone from him.

"Our private life," he said, tone mild but edged, "is not something to be openly discussed here."

The words dropped like a heavy curtain. Firm, unyielding, final. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to.

The Matriarch’s smile faltered by a hair, then rearranged itself into something lighter, more gracious, as though she hadn’t just cornered Alice in front of the whole family. As though Hades hadn’t just scolded her.

"Of course," she said smoothly, tone a gracious retreat. "Forgive me. I only meant well. It is every mother’s hope, you understand." She chuckled softly, letting the implication linger like smoke before waving her hand as if dismissing her own words.

But her eyes moved. Deliberate. Precise. They landed on Suzy.

"And speaking of hopes..." she continued in that deceptively kind voice, her smile sharpening as it turned.

Suzy froze under that look, fork halfway to her mouth.

The Matriarch tilted her head with the poise of a judge delivering a sentence. "Suzy, my dear... did you hear the news? The President’s last son has just returned to the country."

Every gaze followed.

Van, though, was not that pleased because the entertainment had ended so abruptly. Dawin was being so mature and just eating gently. Hades was also... being himself, though his eyes occasionally flicked toward his little wife.

Boring ass people..

Alice herself was still trying to breathe properly, but she caught the shift in Suzy’s posture, the way she stiffened when the Matriarch moved her attention to her.

At this rate, they were all going to have indigestion.

The Matriarch’s smile didn’t waver as she went on, deceptively gentle, almost maternal. "You should prepare yourself. He’ll be attending the weekend gala. It would be wise to look your best. A subtle trim in your hair, perhaps... just here." Her hand brushed the air near her jawline. "Something neat. More... organized."

Alice’s eyes darted to Suzy.

Suzy’s fork wavered. She quickly glanced at her parents. They were quiet. Too quiet.

"And," the Matriarch continued, as if no interruption had been attempted, "a little more attention to diet wouldn’t hurt. More greens, less sugar. It will bring out the glow in your skin. A young lady must, after all, know how to take advantage of her natural gifts."

Her words were soft, her voice perfectly modulated. But the sting was everywhere.

The finality of it was what made the room colder. It wasn’t a suggestion, not even disguised as one. It was a decree.

The Patriarch finally cleared his throat, brows furrowed. "You mean to say," he began, voice slow, "you’ve already decided this?"

The Matriarch’s smile was quick, practiced. "Decided? No. I’m merely preparing her. For opportunity."

So smooth. So unyielding.

Then—

"Suzy."

It was her father’s voice. Calm. Cutting through. He leaned slightly forward, eyes steady on his daughter. "Do you want to?"

Suzy blinked. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined it. He was actually asking her. Out loud. Directly.

But before Suzy could answer, the Matriarch’s voice slid in, sharper this time with disbelief.

"Want to?" She gave a delicate laugh, eyebrows lifting as though the very idea were absurd. "This is the President’s son we’re speaking of. A man with promise. Respectable. They would both be fortunate to have each other. And this connection—" her eyes flicked to Suzy’s parents, then back—"is beneficial for both families. Surely we don’t reduce it to such... triviality as ’want’."

Alice’s pulse picked up. This woman is insane.

Suzy’s knuckles whitened around her fork. Her face didn’t move, but Alice saw it. The small storm gathering behind her stillness.

And then something even more fascinating unfolded.

Suzy glanced. Not at her mother. Not at the Matriarch. But at Gavin.

It was the quickest flick of her eyes, almost nothing. But Alice caught it.

Gavin hadn’t been paying attention, at least, it looked that way. He’d been staring down at his plate with sharp senses. But at that glance, his head shifted just slightly. His eyes moved, catching Suzy’s for the briefest heartbeat.

And then he tilted his head, a slow, subtle nudge. Not words. Not a command. Just... a push.

That probably said, ’Fix your mess and stop staring like a blind fish,’

Suzy’s lips parted. Her father was still waiting. The Matriarch still smiling, sharp as broken glass.

And then Suzy did it. She put her fork down. Her hands went still.

And under the table, she found Gavin’s free hand and grabbed it, lacing their fingers together.

He flinched. Almost jumping out of his seat if not for the self control he had.

The f...