Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 2030

Chapter 2030: Half Brother

Villain Ch 2030. Half Brother

Evan didn’t move at first. Just stood there. The scent was everywhere now… rich, buttery, savory in that way only childhood memories could be. It smelled like holidays that never quite happened, like warm lies wrapped in flaky crust.

His throat was dry. He swallowed anyway.

“No… you are,” he said quietly. It slipped out before he could filter it. Before he could stop that ache in his chest from taking over his voice. “You burn the ties.”

Carla huffed. Not loud. But sharp. Annoyed. She turned, the knife still in her hand but limp at her side. Her mouth was tight. Her eyes harder now. But not blazing, just… done. Like she’d already argued this a thousand times in her head.

“Okay,” she said, tossing the towel over the back of the chair. “What do you want, Evan? Hm? If you’re going to ask if we’re coming to his wedding, save it. The answer’s no.”

The kitchen felt smaller suddenly. Hotter. The overhead light buzzed softly. He could hear the second-hand ticking on the clock behind her, like time itself was annoyed too.

“He can have his new father,” she continued, gesturing vaguely with the knife like she was cutting through the air instead of food. “Or whoever plays the role. Maybe rent someone to pretend to be a mother too, for the photos. Maybe she’ll even get a matching corsage. They can toast and pretend it was all perfect from the start.”

It wasn’t the words that stung. It was how casual she said them. Like bitterness was just her default flavor now.

And yeah, it stung. But not just because she said Allen didn’t have a mom anymore.

It stung because somehow, even now, he never called Allen, her child.

“I’m not here to ask if we’re coming,” Evan said, voice lower. Slower. “I want your permission. To go. Alone.”

Her eyes flicked up. Caught his. There was a pause, brief but loaded.

“You want to go to his wedding?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Evan shifted his weight. The kitchen tiles were cool under his socks. The edge of the counter pressed into the small of his back, grounding him. He looked at her. Really looked.

“To congratulate him.”

Carla’s jaw clenched. Just a flicker. But it was there. She looked down, then stepped over to the sink and turned on the tap like the water could wash out whatever just passed between them.

“If you’re doing this for a better job,” she said after a moment, “or for connections, or I don’t know, some kind of social laddering… don’t. Please.”

She turned off the tap. Turned to him. Walked closer. Her hands were still damp when they touched his arm, grounding him with a quiet pressure. Her thumb rubbed a small circle into his sleeve, like muscle memory kicked in before she could stop it.

“You’re better than that, Evan,” she said softly.

He shook his head.

“I’m not doing it for that,” he said. His voice cracked just a little. “Not for a job. Or money. Or opportunities.”

His eyes met hers again. This time they didn’t falter.

“I’m doing it because he’s my half-brother. That’s all.”

The silence that followed felt like the house had stopped breathing.

She pulled her hand back. Not coldly. Just… retreating. Her shield going back up.

Carla turned, went to the counter, and picked up a spoon to stir something that didn’t need stirring. It clinked against the side of the bowl rhythmically. Metal and glass. Over and over. She didn’t look at him.

“Your father won’t let you,” she said.

Evan looked down. The floor was a pale off-white, with small scuffs from years of footsteps and spilled sauce. He knew those marks. Had grown up staring at them from the dinner table, from the stool by the fridge. From under this very light.

“I know,” he said.

“He’ll scream,” she added. “Throw things. Maybe threaten to drive to the venue and drag you back.”

He didn’t answer.

“You know how he is,” she muttered. “He might even go. Ruin the whole thing. Start shouting in front of whoever Allen’s marrying. Smash glasses. Embarrass everyone. You really want that on you?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. Just a sliver of her gaze. Enough to stab him with truth.

Evan stayed quiet. Because she wasn’t wrong.

Of course she wasn’t wrong.

Every memory of his father was etched with volatility. Raised voices over trivial things. Slamming doors. Eyes that never saw Allen as anything but a stain. A weight dragging their name through the dirt.

Now that same man would hear about the wedding, the guests, the location, the pride… and feel mocked by it.

“You’re right,” Evan finally said.

Carla blinked.

He stepped forward, letting the words rise up slow.

“Then tell him I won a vacation ticket.”

She turned fully now.

“A… what?”

“A vacation. One of those online raffle things. I’ll say I entered something with a friend. Got picked. Weeklong hotel voucher. Free ride. Whatever.”

“You think he’ll believe that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Evan said. “As long as he doesn’t ask too many questions. I’ll pack light. Just enough to make it believable. And I’ll be back before he even finishes ranting about how useless those things are.”

Carla stared at him. And for the first time in a long while, she looked like she was seeing him, really seeing him, not just as the quiet one, or the one who behaved to survive the storm.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” she said.

Evan nodded.

Her eyes softened. A little. Just a breath of it. Enough to make him feel twelve again.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” she said. “But don’t expect me to cover for you.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “Just… don’t tell him the truth.”

Another pause. She looked down at the pie again. Then picked up a knife and slid a slice onto a plate.

“Eat,” she said, her voice softer than it had been all evening. “Before it gets cold.”

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