Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 2031

Capítulo 2031: Perfect Family Portrait [Part 1]

Villain Ch 2031. Perfect Family Portrait [Part 1]

He stepped forward. Took the plate. The crust flaked under his fork like it remembered how to be perfect. The filling was rich, savory, and seasoned exactly the way he remembered it when he was small and still believed families always had dinner together.

He took a bite.

It burned his tongue a little.

Good.

It meant it was real.

Carla poured a glass of water and placed it in front of him without a word.

He chewed, staring at the fork in his hand, thinking of Allen’s name printed in gold on a wedding invitation he never got. Thinking of what it meant to be the one who showed up anyway.

The silence was warm this time. Not comfortable, but not sharp.

He didn’t look up when he spoke again.

“I want to stand there and let him see me. Without pretending he never existed,” he said. “It’s his big day after all…”

Carla didn’t reply. Not with words.

But she set a second plate on the table. And another fork.

She sat across from him. Cut into her own slice. Took a bite.

They ate in silence for a moment. Not the cold, brittle kind. Just quiet. Maybe tired. Maybe scared to shake whatever thread had pulled them both into the same room again without a fight.

The crust crumbled perfectly under her knife. She chewed slower than him, eyes cast down like she was trying to taste memories, not food.

“I don’t get it,” she said suddenly. “Why are you so stubborn when it comes to him?”

Evan looked up, but she still wasn’t looking at him.

“Are me and your dad not enough for you?” she asked. Her voice didn’t waver, but the crack was there, under the surface, like a hairline fracture in glass. “You should stand on our side, Evan. Not his.”

That hurt. Not because she said it, but because she meant it. She really believed it was about sides.

“I should,” he said, setting his fork down. “I should’ve stood with you. And maybe if I was younger, I would’ve. Just to keep the peace.”

Carla’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“But I don’t need to be a genius or anything,” he added quietly, “to know that what you and Dad did to him was wrong.”

She closed her eyes.

Not long. Just a blink too slow.

“I knew,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I knew. But I just… pretended I didn’t. Because I was hurt.”

She finally met his gaze. The weight of it was exhausting. But she didn’t look away this time.

“It wasn’t fair to him,” she said. “I know that. But back then, I was drowning. And he was proof of a mistake I can’t undo.”

Evan’s throat tightened.

“I’ll talk to Dad,” he said after a beat. “When he gets home. Just… don’t say anything.”

She nodded. Didn’t push. Just picked up her fork and took another bite. The crunch echoed louder now in the quiet room.

And then they waited.

The house had that strange stillness only old houses knew. Like the walls were holding their breath. The living room lamp hummed. A car passed by outside. The scent of meat pie was fading slowly into the wallpaper, becoming part of the house again.

Then came the familiar sound.

A car door.

Boots on the porch.

Keys jingling.

Jason was home.

Carla stood and wiped her hands on the towel again. Like clockwork. She straightened her blouse. Smoothed her apron. She wasn’t smiling, not really, but she knew how to play the role. The good wife. The calm housekeeper of whatever storm brewed inside her husband.

The front door creaked open.

“Smells good in here,” Jason’s voice rang out, thick and gravelly from a day’s work.

Carla walked to the door.

“Meat pie,” she said, the words soft but bright. “Evan’s already grabbed a slice.”

Jason let out a warm laugh, deep and gruff like it came from his stomach.

“Of course he did,” he said. “Your meat pie’s always been a goddamn treasure.”

Evan heard the sound of a kiss. The kind that was more habit than romance. Lips brushing skin like they were checking off a task.

Then footsteps.

He straightened in his seat and put on a small smile.

Jason entered the dining room, still in his work boots, jacket open over a faded polo shirt. His hair was mostly gone now, more gray than anything else, and his face had the permanent scowl of someone used to winning arguments by being louder than truth.

“Well, look at that,” Jason said, spotting the plate in front of Evan. “Already started without us.”

Evan lifted the fork and smiled like it was a joke.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was starving. You know how rare it is to get this pie.”

Jason chuckled and slapped him lightly on the back as he passed by.

“No argument there,” he said. “I married your mom for two things. Her legs and her cooking.”

Carla rolled her eyes from the doorway, but she smiled like she was supposed to.

Jason sat, cut a huge chunk of the pie, and groaned in delight as the steam hit his face.

“God, this smell takes me back,” he said. “You’ve still got it, Carla.”

She placed his glass of water beside him, then sat down across the table.

Evan watched him eat. Waited. Let him enjoy at least two bites before he opened his mouth again.

“Hey,” Evan said casually. “So… something came up at work. Sort of.”

Jason raised a brow mid-chew.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There was this raffle thing they did. Kind of a stress relief campaign. Like a lucky draw thing.”

Jason grunted, already half-focusing on the flaky crust. “What, you win something?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, keeping his voice light. “A vacation ticket. Fully paid. Just a short getaway. I guess they want to give people breathing room before the quarter closes.”

Jason huffed. “Must be nice. When I was your age, the only thing they gave us was a broken chair and a threat.”

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