Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: Chapter 241:I want to know exactly where my daughter is

Back at the Greyson Mansion, Dorothy sat rigidly by the tall window, her fingers drumming a relentless rhythm on the armrest of her chair. The late afternoon sun cast long, golden bars across the floor, but the tension in her chest only coiled tighter with every passing second.

Finally, the phone rang.

She snatched it up without hesitation.

“Did you find anything about Agnes?” she demanded, her voice slicing through the air, sharp and urgent.

The man on the other end was composed—too composed.

“No trace of her yet,” he replied coolly. “But I did spot Eric meeting someone. Still working on identifying who.”

Dorothy’s brows knitted together, a fresh wave of irritation tightening her jaw. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“Then find out who it is,” she snapped. “And fast. I want to know exactly where my daughter is—and what game Eric is playing.”

Her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles whitened. Without another word, she ended the call with a sharp press and tossed the device onto the side table with a metallic thud. She let out a slow, shaking breath through clenched teeth.

Agnes’s disappearance was more than a mystery—it was a thorn buried deep beneath her skin. Painful. Persistent. Impossible to ignore.

And Eric… Eric was beginning to show shades of a man she no longer recognized. Cunning. Calculated. Dangerous.

She was just beginning to rise, ready to storm out and confront him herself—when her phone buzzed again.

Dorothy froze. Her eyes darted to the screen.

A message. No name. Just a number she didn’t recognize.

Still fuming, she snatched it up, intending to ignore it—but curiosity got the better of her.

She unlocked the phone.

The moment her eyes scanned the message, her breath caught.

She stared.

Stunned. Speechless.

The color drained from her face.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reread the contents. The message was brief—but what it showed was enough to shake the ground beneath her feet.

Her anger vanished in an instant, replaced by something colder, more primal.

Dread.

And just like that, the game had changed.

***

Stanley and Lilac arrived in Fintown just as the sun dipped behind the hills, casting a warm amber glow over the quiet streets. After checking in, they made their way up to the suite, the silence between them soft—almost too soft.

The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that seemed to seal them into something unspoken.

“Are we staying the night?” Lilac asked, her voice light as she glanced around the room, though there was a thread of tension beneath it she couldn’t quite hide.

Stanley followed her in, his movements unhurried and deliberate. When her gaze found his, he gave a low hum of confirmation.

“I figured we’d start the search tomorrow,” he said, his voice calm—too calm—as he stepped closer.

Lilac’s brows furrowed. Before she could say more, his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her gently to him.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Stanley…” she whispered, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy—not just physical, but emotional. Something in his eyes was unreadable, distant.

He didn’t respond right away. His gaze held hers, steady and intense, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly—but it wasn’t quite a smile.

It was restraint. It was hesitation.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, eyes searching his. She felt it—that shift in him. Like something had fractured beneath the surface.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then, with a faint shake of his head, he leaned in and brushed a feather-light kiss against her lips. It was brief. Gentle. But enough to make her still.

When he pulled back, he lingered close, his thumb brushing along her cheek.

“I told you,” he murmured, “I’m fine.”

But Lilac wasn’t convinced. Not for a second.

She drew a quiet breath and gently removed his hand from her waist, stepping back just enough to reclaim some space.

“Then why were you ignoring Sean’s calls?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed. Her arms folded—not defensively, but protectively. “You never ignore him. Not even once.”

Stanley’s expression faltered, a flicker of something passing over his features—surprise, perhaps. Or guilt.

“You saw that?” he asked.

“Of course I did,” she replied. “Even after you silenced your phone, I saw his name flash across the screen. He called more than once.”

Stanley exhaled, slow and deliberate. His jaw tensed as he looked away for the first time since they entered the room.

“Tell me the truth,” Lilac pressed, stepping closer, her voice low but unwavering. “Are you hiding the fact that we’re in Fintown from him?”

She hadn’t planned to say it—it came out of nowhere, a gut instinct she blurted out just to watch his reaction.

And when Stanley smirked, her heart skipped.

The smirk wasn’t playful. It was amused. Like she had touched something she wasn’t meant to find.

“I know you’re smart, Lilac,” he said, reaching out and slowly pulling her back to him until their chests brushed. “But maybe… refrain from using that brain so much. You might just get too close to the truth.”

She blinked, caught off guard—not by his words, but by the way he said them. Half a joke, half a warning.

His fingers reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch tender. Then he caressed her cheek, slow and steady, as if trying to soften the tension he’d just stirred.

But Lilac didn’t smile. She didn’t melt into his touch like she usually did.

Because that smirk… that vague dodge… it only confirmed one thing.

He was hiding something.

***

[Penthouse]

The dinner table had become a quiet battlefield.

Winter sat stiffly in her seat, eyes fixed on her plate as she methodically cut her food. Each movement was precise, almost mechanical. Not a word left her lips.

Across from her, Kalix looked like a scolded pup—head slightly lowered, eyes glued to her with a desperate mix of guilt and longing. He hadn’t touched a single bite on his plate.

Between them, Serene blinked in confusion, her gaze ping-ponging back and forth between her silent parents. The atmosphere felt off—taut, strained—but it didn’t take her long to figure out who was upset.

Her mother only got this quiet when she was mad.

Her father only looked this pitiful when it was Winter he’d upset.

“Daddy,” Serene said suddenly, breaking the silence, “why do you keep staring at Mommy like that? Do you want her to feed you what she’s eating?”

Kalix’s eyes snapped to her. Before he could answer, she grinned knowingly.

Caught red-handed, he gave in to the bit. “Maybe…” he mumbled with a small shrug, like a guilty child, trying to play along with her innocent attempt to thaw the tension.

But Winter didn’t so much as flinch. Her voice came calm and cool—too calm.

“No, Star,” she said flatly, still not looking up. “Mommy’s too busy to feed a grown man. Especially one with two perfectly good hands.”

She lifted her glass, pausing just long enough to add, “Besides, we’re eating the same thing. I think Daddy can manage on his own.”

Her tone wasn’t sharp, but it landed like a slap across Kalix’s already bruised ego.

His shoulders drooped a little more, the spark of hope dimming in his eyes.

But Serene…sweet, loyal Serene wasn’t about to let her daddy suffer.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” she chirped, sliding off her chair and picking up a spoon. “If Mommy won’t feed you, I will!”

She scooped up a bite from Kalix’s plate and stood on her tiptoes beside him, holding it up with both hands.

“Ahh,” she beamed, like she was feeding a toddler. “Open up!”

Kalix couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him—low and soft, the first warmth in the room all evening. His heart clenched at the sight of his daughter, trying so hard to patch things up in her own little way.

He opened his mouth and leaned down obligingly. “Thank you, my little star,” he said, taking the bite with exaggerated gratitude. “You’re the only one who still loves me.”

Winter’s fork froze mid-air at his words, her jaw tightening. But she said nothing.