The Seductive Pretty Boy of the Matriarchal World-Chapter 40: Disinfection of Possession

That single "Mm" was so faint, so whisper-soft, that anyone not utterly focused would have missed it entirely.

But the three people in the room were all hanging on whatever answer might fall from Elias Kane’s lips, their attention riveted to him. There was no chance they would overlook it.

The instant that tiny syllable reached Giselle Frost’s ears, her body gave a light, involuntary tremor—like stepping off solid ground and plunging straight into an ice-choked river in the dead of winter. The cold hit her from the inside out, freezing every inch of her.

It wasn’t the humiliation of losing face in front of Serena Blackwood. It was something far worse.

She had reached for him again, and he had rejected her again—exactly the way he had when Liora Voss nearly pulled him out of the university. The same nauseating wave crashed over her. Giselle felt as if her fingers had brushed something filthy, a skin that hid a soul so cowardly it was repulsive, hateful.

Without hesitation she yanked her hand back, turned sharply, and walked away. She never gave Elias so much as another glance.

Only after Giselle had vanished did Serena Blackwood’s expression finally drop its mask. The polite restraint she had worn moments earlier had been nothing but a shield to keep Giselle from stealing him.

"You..." Serena began, but the words died in a fresh surge of irritation. The rage that had been simmering all night had never truly cooled.

Everything tonight had started because of this impostor.

"Send him to Longhaven Hospital. Now."

"Understood," Liora Voss answered, the reply accompanied by the softest chuckle.

Serena’s eyes narrowed to slits; a vein pulsed visibly at her temple. Still, she knew her younger sister’s nature too well—even if the sky itself came crashing down, Liora would probably just laugh.

"You get out of here too. Right now."

"Sis, I’ll pretend I saw nothing."

With that, Liora and Elias left one behind the other. The sprawling restaurant fell silent, empty except for Serena Blackwood.

She stared at the abandoned wine glass, lifted the bottle of red, and started to pour. Her hand slipped. The glass tumbled, shattering against the marble with a brittle crack.

Crash!

Serena stared at the wreckage for a beat. Then she swept her arm across the table in one violent motion. A deafening bang rang out as everything—plates, silverware, half-empty bottles—crashed to the floor in a glittering, wine-soaked ruin.

"Ms. Blackwood, may I—"

The restaurant manager had seen the others leave and assumed the meal was over; she had stepped in to begin clearing. Instead she walked straight into the explosion.

Serena’s head snapped toward her. The manager’s voice cut off mid-sentence. A chill raced down her spine. Without daring to hesitate another second, she backed out, pulling the door shut behind her as if a moment’s delay might cost her life.

The realization that she had not only lost control completely but had been witnessed by an outsider made Serena’s mood plummet to new depths. Her hands trembled, the motion so slight it was almost invisible.

She drew in several slow, measured breaths, forcing the fury back down until it no longer threatened to spill over.

Only then did she walk to the floor-to-ceiling window and look out. Far below, one luxury car streaked away into the night. Moments later a second, painfully familiar one followed the same path, taillights shrinking into the distance.

Serena pressed her forearm against the cool glass, head bowed. She lifted her other hand to wipe her face and froze. Her palm was slick with blood.

It wasn’t Elias’s. It was hers.

Maybe a shard from his wound had caught her when she grabbed him. Maybe the fork had stabbed her when she flipped the table. She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

Serena closed that bloodied hand into a tight fist and shut her eyes, suddenly exhausted.

...

Inside the luxury sedan the cabin lights glowed warm and bright. Elias kept his head down, focused entirely on the injury in his palm. With careful, precise movements he worked each tiny glass fragment free from the torn skin.

Liora Voss glanced over from the driver’s seat, her smile faint and cool. "Let the doctors handle it properly once we reach Longhaven Hospital. Stop playing around with it yourself—unless you want an infection that’ll make you regret it." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Elias lifted his head abruptly. His dark eyes blinked once, almost innocently. "Why do I get the feeling you’re actually happy I’m hurt?"

"Not because you’re hurt," Liora answered, "but because you just put on quite the show."

It had been ages since she had seen her sister lose composure like that. And Giselle Frost too. More than that—

She eased her foot off the accelerator, gaze drifting to Elias’s blood-streaked hands. Her smile deepened by a fraction. "What about you? Was the injury part of your plan?"

He had played with fire tonight. She doubted getting cut open had been written into his script.

Elias shook his head, voice low. "What happened back there... slipped a little beyond my control."

Liora’s lips curved. Of course. A boy—however clever—couldn’t keep everyone dancing on his strings forever. This was tightrope walking. One misstep and the fall would be fatal. Tonight he had caught the wire at the last second. Next time? She doubted luck would be so generous.

Still, she found herself looking forward to it.

As if reading her thoughts, Elias spoke again. "They didn’t even fight over me. That doesn’t make sense, does it?"

Liora paused, startled. That was the only part that hadn’t gone according to his plan?

"Hey." He leaned across the console, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You think they chickened out? The air was so thick with tension it felt like it could snap. They were one breath away from throwing hands. But neither of them moved. Maybe neither was sure she could actually win? That’s way too cautious. Where’s the fire? No real womanly spirit at all..."

He kept going, a steady stream of teasing commentary that finally grated on Liora’s nerves. She gave a cold laugh. "You honestly believe you’re worth two women brawling over?"

"Hm?" Elias arched one brow, slowly sliding his glasses off. A smile bloomed across his face—quiet, knowing, and so saturated with confidence it practically overflowed.

He said nothing else. He didn’t have to. The look said everything.

Liora went quiet. She knew he wasn’t being arrogant. He really did have that kind of capital. If she hadn’t stepped in earlier and turned the pressure onto him, the night would have ended far worse.

She enjoyed watching the drama, but she had no interest in letting Serena and Giselle actually come to blows. The Blackwood family and the Frost family might look evenly matched on the surface, yet the Frosts held the slightest edge—one that mattered immensely in their world. That edge let the Frosts restrain the Blackwoods in countless quiet ways. It was why Giselle could carry herself with such unshakable assurance.

If not for that accident years ago, the two families would never have...

Liora’s eyes darkened, memory pulling her back. Then a faint, wet sound drew her attention. She turned.

Elias was licking his palm in small, deliberate strokes. His full lips parted just enough for the pink tip of his tongue to appear, lapping gently at the bleeding cuts like a kitten drinking water—slow, methodical, almost dainty.

The sight hit her with an unexpected jolt of heat. Liora snapped out of it and barked, "What the hell are you doing?"

Was he not worried some shard might still be buried there, slicing his tongue?

Elias turned his head slowly. His eyes gleamed with lazy, feline mischief. For a split second Liora could have sworn she heard a soft "meow" in her mind.

His lips moved, and the tease came out exactly as expected—undisguised, playful, and utterly unrepentant. "A kitten’s saliva can disinfect wounds. How... don’t you know that?"