The Tyrannical Wolf King's Contract Bride-Chapter 60: Exploring the Art Studio

Lila POV

The aroma of beef and tomato stew wafted from the kitchen. It was rich, heavy, and cloyingly sweet, a deliberate attempt to please. Caleb said he learned to make it specifically to commemorate our long-since-molded childhood.

I sat at the dining table like a marionette, mechanically opening my mouth, chewing, and swallowing. The taste was good, a remarkably faithful recreation even, but my taste buds felt dead. I couldn’t taste anything but a mouthful of rust.

Aside from the slap from Penelope on the first day, the past few days had been as calm as stagnant water. My daily routine was a simple triangle: Caleb’s marital home, the AR Architecture Design Company, and back to the marital home. Zoe’s calls, which had started as a frantic barrage, had turned into a steady bombardment of texts—one every hour, like a preset alarm. I kept my phone on silent, facedown, ignoring it all.

Caleb, however, was very patient. He drove me to and from work every day and would dig up all sorts of dad jokes to amuse me, just like when we were kids. Sometimes, the jokes were so bad I couldn’t help but let the corners of my mouth turn up. But the smile was fake, a hollow expression that never reached my eyes.

’The hole in my heart was too vast. The whistling wind drowned everything out—Caleb’s attempts to please me, Zoe’s concern, even the beat of my own heart.’

「Until the weekend.」

I was zoning out on the sofa when my phone vibrated. It was a text from Zoe. She hadn’t called, just sent a message.

"Lila, I’m going to your uncle’s house today. Lilith invited me, something about a family party. Hah. She probably thinks some ’family atmosphere’ will win me over. I’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious and report back. Hope you have a good day."

My fingers clenched, nails digging into my palm.

’My uncle’s house... No, that’s *my* house.’

That thought was like a stone dropped into stagnant water, but instead of ripples, it created a monstrous wave. An image of the small red-brick building, the cherry blossom tree in the yard, and the silhouette of Mom and Dad painting under the setting sun instantly flooded my mind.

A surge of anger erupted from the bottom of my heart, so hot my fingertips burned. ’I wasn’t a walking corpse anymore. I had an emotion. I was angry.’

Caleb peeked out from the kitchen, a spatula still in his hand, an eager-to-please smile on his face. "Lila, the soup’s ready. Want some?"

I ignored him, got up, and walked straight into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. ’I didn’t want him to see the fire in my eyes, nor did I want to hear his sickeningly deliberate words of comfort.’

The sounds outside the door stopped. A moment later, I heard Caleb knock gently.

"Lila, can I come in?"

I didn’t answer, my gaze fixed on the gloomy, gray sky outside.

The door was pushed open gently, and Caleb walked in carrying a bowl of soup. He placed it on the table and watched me cautiously, as if observing a startled wild animal.

"That house..." Caleb hesitated, seeming to weigh his words. "Since it’s in the past, just let it go. Your uncle and his family... they’re your relatives, after all."

’Relatives?’

That word was like a slap, stinging my face.

I whipped my head around to look at him properly for the first time. My expression must have been terrifying, because Caleb subconsciously took half a step back.

"Caleb," I said, my voice hoarse as if I hadn’t spoken in a long time, "what happened... with you and Penelope?"

He froze for a second, apparently not expecting me to ask that.

"You don’t need to worry." He quickly regained his composure, his tone holding the certainty of a business negotiation. "The corporate marriage is still on. The alliance between Goodrich and Vanderbilt is set in stone. She... won’t suddenly show up to hurt you again."

’He was lying.’

’Or rather, he was trying to convince himself.’

’I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, and a barely perceptible trace of panic. A woman like Penelope would never let things go after being publicly humiliated. She’s like a venomous snake, just lying in wait in the shadows, biding her time.’

’But I didn’t want to call him out. His lie, at least, could maintain this fragile peace. In my current mental state, I couldn’t handle any disturbances.’

I turned back to the window. Seeing that I had fallen silent, Caleb sighed, quietly left the room, and gently closed the door.

I walked to the table and picked up the bowl of soup. It wasn’t hot anymore. I took a sip. It was the same familiar taste, but it only made me want to vomit.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

Zoe’s text replayed in my mind like a mantra, gnawing at my heart like a colony of ants.

’That was my home.’

’It was the only thing Mom and Dad left me.’

’I had to go see it for myself.’

’Even if my uncle’s family caught me.’

Once the thought took root, there was no suppressing it.

I made the excuse that I was tired and went to my room early. Caleb was watching TV outside, the volume turned down low. I lay in bed, listening to the sounds from the living room until late at night, when they finally faded to silence.

I got up stealthily, put on a hat and a mask, and bundled myself up completely. Like a thief, or perhaps a ghost, I slipped out the side door.

The late-night streets were deserted, and the wind was bone-chilling. I hailed a taxi, my voice trembling as I gave the address.

"West side, Old Oak Street."

As the car drove down familiar streets, my heart beat faster and faster. ’Fifteen years, and I still remember this route so clearly. A left turn, past two traffic lights, then a right...’

"We’re here, miss."

I paid the fare and pushed open the car door.

The small red-brick building was right in front of me—no, it had been repainted in some so-called trendy Morandi color! The cherry blossom tree in the yard was gone, replaced by meticulously trimmed shrubs. My heart sank.

I walked to the yard wall, grabbed the top, and vaulted over. ’It was a trick I used to do all the time as a kid. I never thought I’d still be able to pull it off.’

I moved as quietly as possible, circling around to the backyard until I found the small cottage.

’That was Mom’s art studio.’

’That was my secret base.’

The window was unlocked. I gave it a gentle push, and the frame let out a CREAK that sounded piercingly loud in the silent night. Holding my breath, I climbed inside.

The room was pitch-black, filled with the thick smell of dust and an indescribable metallic stench.

I turned on my phone’s flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the forgotten corner.

And then, I froze.

’This... this was once Mom’s art studio.’

’But now, it looked like a desecrated tomb.’

On the walls, where Mom’s exquisite paintings once hung, there were now only empty outlines of various shapes, like ugly scars. The floor was littered with shattered picture frames, dried-up paints, and shredded pieces of canvas.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain so intense I couldn’t breathe.

Shaking, I crouched down and picked up a piece of a broken frame. It had been Mom’s favorite, the one with her and Dad’s initials carved into it. Now, it was snapped in two.

I picked up another piece, a fragment of canvas. A familiar shade of cerulean blue clung to it. It was Mom’s favorite color. She used to say it was the color of the ocean, the color of freedom.

’Who?’

’Who did this?’