Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Chapter 225: You were pretending

Winter didn’t need to turn around. She felt him.

The warmth of Kalix’s presence, the steady calm he carried, was enough to ease the weight on her chest. And when his arms slid around her waist from behind, she instinctively leaned into him, drawing comfort from the way he held her like she was something precious.

Kalix buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in slowly. The scent of her familiar and grounding washed over him, and for a fleeting moment, everything else disappeared. The way her body relaxed against his made him ache for more than just touch; he wanted her trust, her fears, her truth.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked, his lips brushing against her skin in a whisper of a kiss.

Winter took a deep breath, her palms resting gently over his hands that were clasped at her waist, and hummed in quiet affirmation.

Kalix pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes met his soft but distant one. There was a flicker in them, something unspoken, and without saying a word, he bent down and swept her into his arms.

With purposeful strides, he carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. His coat hit the floor with a casual toss, and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slip from his shoulders as he exhaled deeply.

Winter propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with quiet intensity. The moment he leaned in, she reached out, cupping his face with both hands before pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was tender, aching, and full of unspoken emotion.

Kalix hovered over her, returning the kiss with a slow hunger, his hands bracing beside her head. He kissed her like she was his anchor, like he was afraid she’d slip away.

And then… he stilled.

He pulled back, his breathing uneven, his eyes searching hers as if trying to see past her calm expression.

“Do you have something to tell me?” He asked suddenly, his voice low and more vulnerable than demanding.

Winter froze. Just for a heartbeat.

But then, with practiced ease, she masked the moment of hesitation, offering a soft smile before pulling him back into another kiss.

“No,” she whispered against his lips.

He kissed her again, deeper this time but something inside him remained unsettled, even as his body responded to hers. They moved together, lost in the rhythm of need and closeness. The passion between them was undeniable, but beneath it all, a truth still lay buried.

And Kalix felt it.

Even in her embrace, even in the heat of their connection, there was something she wasn’t saying.

But he didn’t force it. Just as Lilac had advised, he was willing to give her time to wait patiently until she was ready to open up.

***

[The Next Morning]

Agnes awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open to the pale light creeping in through the curtains. Sleep had eluded her the entire night, her thoughts consumed by the documents she’d uncovered in Eric’s study.

The evidence was troubling.

His growing connections with people once affiliated with David. Those who once trusted them.

Was Eric really doing all this to protect the future of Greyson International?

Or was there a deeper, more selfish reason behind it?

The uncertainty gnawed at her, twisting her gut into uneasy knots. If his motives weren’t pure, then everything she believed about him—everything she thought they shared—might have been a lie.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Darting her eyes toward him, Agnes watched Eric sleeping beside her. He had come home late the night before. She’d pretended to be asleep, offering no words, and he hadn’t said a thing either—just slipped under the covers beside her, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Only she knew how hard it was to lie beside him, to share the same space when her mind was spiraling with doubt and fear.

It was terrifying.

And yet, something about Eric still intrigued her. A quiet, dangerous pull that made her question everything—his motives, his loyalty, even his affection for her. Had he been hiding his true self from the beginning?

Blinking the thoughts away, Agnes slowly eased herself off the bed. Careful not to wake him, she moved with quiet precision, collecting her clothes and getting dressed in silence.

She had just stepped out of the bedroom when Eric’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Running already?”

Agnes froze, her heart lurching in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to wake—not after the silent tension between them the night before. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse as she slowly turned, her expression caught between guilt and shock.

“I—I wasn’t running,” she said quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just didn’t want to wake you… You came home late, and I thought—”

“But you weren’t awake to know when I came in,” Eric interrupted, his voice low, unreadable.

He rose from the bed with deliberate calm and walked toward her, each step heavy with restrained emotion. His eyes sharp and observant, searched her face, catching the tremble in her lips and the way she subtly shifted back.

“You were pretending,” he said softly, accusingly. “Pretending to sleep, “..just like you’re pretending now.”

Agnes swallowed, her mouth dry. The air between them thickened, the pretense stripped away.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.

Eric tilted his head, a cold smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me lately. Like I’m a stranger. Like I’m the enemy.”

He reached out—not forcefully, but enough to make her flinch—as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was intimate, but Agnes felt none of the warmth it once held. Only a chill that seeped into her bones.

“You should be careful, Agnes,” he murmured. “Pretending can be dangerous. Especially when you’re so bad at it.”

Her breath caught, her pulse drumming in her ears. She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. And for a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, Agnes stepped back. “I have somewhere to be,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Eric arched a brow, amusement flashing briefly in his eyes. But the expression darkened in an instant. He stepped forward and yanked her roughly toward him, his grip unrelenting.

“Where to?” he hissed. “Running home to your father? Going to tell him I’m making alliances with the same people he once worked with?”

Agnes froze, the blood draining from her face. His words struck like lightning—sharp, precise, and damning. Her heart pounded as realization dawned. He knew. He knew what she’d found. What she suspected.

She had been so sure she’d masked her fear, played her part. But Eric had seen straight through it. And now… she was cornered.

“L-Let me go, Eric,” she breathed, struggling against his grip.

But he didn’t. Instead, he shoved her back, hard. Her shoulder hit the wall with a painful thud, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment.

Agnes winced, the pain shooting down her arm. Before she could recover, Eric’s hand gripped her jaw tightly, forcing her to look into his eyes—eyes that no longer held warmth or affection, only cold, calculated fury.

“I thought I could keep playing you,” he said with a sneer, his voice low and venomous. “Keep you close. Keep you fooled. But you… you’re becoming a real pain, Agnes.”

Her breath hitched.

His fingers tightened just slightly.

“And hiding a pregnancy?” he added, his voice now edged with something crueler. “What was that about? Trying to outsmart me? Or were you just desperate to keep something for yourself?”

Fear twisted her insides, but she refused to let him see her crumble. She fought against his grip, hands pushing at his chest, trying to break free—but Eric was too strong, too unrelenting.

“You don’t get to control everything,” she spat, her voice shaking but defiant. “Not this.”

His jaw clenched, but something flickered behind his gaze—surprise, maybe. Just for a second.

Then, without another word, he released her.

Agnes stumbled, catching herself against the wall, breath ragged, heart racing.

Eric stood still, watching her with a predator’s gaze. But there was something else in his eyes now—a crack in his control. A hint that things weren’t going the way he’d planned.

“I’ll give you a piece of advice,” he muttered darkly, stepping back. “Don’t dig any deeper, Agnes. Some truths are better buried.”

She didn’t reply. But the way her body trembled—silent, involuntary—was answer enough.

Eric leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

“Or else,” he murmured, “be ready to lose that child—the only thing you thought could bind me to you.”

Agnes’s breath caught. Her eyes widened as her world tilted on its axis.

He knew.

All along, he had known about the pregnancy.

And yet, he’d said nothing. Watched her squirm in secrecy. Let her believe she was protecting something sacred, something untouched by his growing darkness. Now she realized—he was never fooled. He’d simply been waiting for the right moment to use it.

The shock settled deep in her bones, hollow and cold.

Eric knew she was trying to trap him. That the child was some tool she planned to wield against him.

And now she knew she was doomed.