Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 288: To Love Without Reason

–Damon–

Lore sent out the images. Everyone immediately tried to trace their origin. Since the maids and the butler were part of the Blackwell residence staff, they weren’t directly under our command. That narrowed it down quickly.

The gift came from a guest. One of the guests we personally invited.

Most likely, one of her classmates.

The man who delivered the gifts acted casual—too casual—blending in with the rest of the offerings. I still don’t like how the scanners missed it. I watched the operators now, every one of them combing through the footage and system logs with sharp focus.

Then I reviewed the scanned boxes again. Same dimensions. Same packaging. But the system failed to detect what was inside—bones. Cat bones.

I looked at Logan, who had personally inspected the box.

"The container was sealed with lead," he said. "Multiple layers. Designed to block X-ray penetration."

So the cardboard was nothing more than a decoy. Inside it—lead, mixed metals, deliberately arranged to blind the machines. Professional. Careful.

"We’ll bring in the guy who delivered it," Logan added.

"What about the other gift?" I asked.

"An oil painting of her," he replied.

"Hmm."

"Nothing else. We dismantled the frame, checked the canvas, the backing. Clean."

"Then he might just be the courier," I said. "But we don’t assume. We confirm."

Livana nodded beside me, already three steps ahead. It was three in the morning. The house was quiet—but tense.

My gaze drifted to Lore’s room. My sister was there with the babies. Lore too.

I turned the knob slowly, peeking inside.

Lore was asleep on the bed, Zayvier and Sky snuggled against him like they belonged there. On the sofa, Choco slept sprawled out, shameless, as if the room were his kingdom. And at the corner of the bed, my sister lay curled protectively around Zendaya.

I wasn’t worried—not with the kids there.

Sky suddenly sat up, eyes still closed. He rubbed them clumsily, then turned his face toward the door. Toward me.

"Dada?"

He lifted his arms.

I hadn’t bathed. Hadn’t even changed. The incident had kept us running nonstop.

"Go back to sleep, baby," I whispered.

"Meeek."

I smiled despite everything.

"Okay. I got it."

He obediently lay back down. Good boy.

I headed to the North Wing, washed my hands thoroughly, methodically. His bottle was already sterilized. His formula kept locked away—no room for error. No room for poison.

Livana and I had become paranoid when it came to Sky. Laura and Damien were the same with the twins. That kind of fear rewires you.

Once the milk was ready, I returned to the East Wing, gently woke my sleepy son, and guided the bottle to him.

"Tayku, Dada," he murmured.

I kissed his forehead as he shifted closer to Alyssa, drinking quietly beside Zendaya. I didn’t wake Lore. He’d earned his rest.

I took one last look at them before leaving.

Livana was waiting for me in the hallway. She reached for my hand, fingers firm, grounding.

"Let’s go," she said softly. "You need sleep too."

And for once—

I listened.

–Logan–

I have never seen my wife this angry.

Not loud. Not hysterical. Just silent—too silent. Her eyes were cold, sharp, murderous as she began searching for whoever sent that box. We held her back. I didn’t want her questioning a child with that kind of focus, that kind of violence simmering beneath her skin.

She buried the cat herself, choosing a specific flower, placing it with careful hands. I followed her until the first light of dawn cracked the sky open. I had to pull her toward the bedroom, convince her to bathe, and help dry her hair. When I reached for the lotion, she shoved me away hard.

She didn’t speak. Her chest was tight—I could see it in the way she breathed, shallow and controlled. She didn’t sleep. Neither did I. I wrapped myself around her anyway, holding her firmly. If I let go, there would be chaos.

It was a cat. But it wasn’t just a cat.

She has trauma—cats killed in front of her before. This one was murdered. Poisoned, most likely. She was holding everything inside, compressing it in her chest until it hurt. She needed to break.

I pressed kisses into her hair, her temple, her cheek, rubbing slow circles into her back, coaxing. And finally—finally—her body gave in. Tears slid down her face as she buried herself against my chest.

"I’m here," I whispered. "I’ve got you."

I kept kissing her, wiping her tears away. I could feel how tight her chest was, how the memories were replaying behind her eyes. I couldn’t erase them—but this time, I wasn’t letting her face them alone.

When she finally calmed, I handed her a bottle of water. She drank, then settled back into my arms. Once her breathing evened out and sleep finally claimed her, I tucked her in.

Then I went two doors down—to Alyssa’s room.

I opened her mini fridge and took the eye gel mask. When I placed it gently over my wife’s eyes, she was startled.

"What is this?"

"For your eyes," I said with a grin. "Borrowed it from Alyssa."

She accepted it, settling back down.

"Why?" Her voice was hoarse.

"What?"

"Why did you stay?"

"I always stay," I said quietly. "I was there. Remember?"

I learned her this way—Japan, living side by side, watching how she survives every nightmare, every sleepwalk, every quiet battle she never talks about.

I was there on nights when she was terrified to close her eyes, afraid she might hurt someone if she lost control. I stayed when her hands shook, when her breath hitched, when fear clung to her like a second skin.

I didn’t fall in love with her because of the darkness she carried.

I fell in love with her because even in all of that—standing beside her, holding her together—it just felt right. Like my place had always been there.

Now I think there’s no real reason needed to love. It’s been defined and redefined in so many ways that it almost lost its meaning.

For me, it was simple—it just felt right.

And now I realize there was never a real reason not to love her, not to fall for her completely. Loving her wasn’t a choice I made. It was something I understood too late, something my heart decided long before my mind caught up.

"We’re married," I continued. "And even if we weren’t, I’d still be here. Always."

She stayed silent, but her lips trembled beneath the gel mask.

"My cats were killed in front of me," she whispered, voice breaking. "They looked like the ones Livana rescued in Japan."

I slid closer, lacing my fingers with hers.

"At first, I thought it was Snowball," she said. "I was furious."

I pulled her gently against me as she turned, pressing into my chest.

"I’ll find who did this," I murmured. "Just wait patiently, my wife."

We didn’t speak after that. I slept lightly, holding her so she wouldn’t slip away and do something reckless. When I woke, she was still there—curled against me, arms wrapped tight, face close to mine.

It was already two in the afternoon.

We barely slept, but apparently we’d all agreed the babies would be watched. Livana didn’t disturb her much—Lore and Alyssa could handle the trio.

I slipped out of bed and headed downstairs.

The living room was chaos.

The trio were dancing and singing in front of the big screen. Lore—their supposed nanny—was passed out on the couch, snoring. The guard dog had his front paws up, twirling with the kids. A small robot recorded everything.

"I don’t think I’m needed here," I told Alyssa, who was holding a tray of skincare products aimed at Lore.

"You can lie down while I put a cold face mask on you," she offered.

"Just give me one."

She pointed. "Clean your face first."

"Got it."

Back in the bedroom, I prepared warm water and cleanser, gently washing my wife’s face. She hummed as she stirred.

"Go back to sleep," I murmured.

I placed the cold mask over her face and kissed her lips. The serum smelled divine.

"What’s this?"

"Something from Aly." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

She hummed again. "Water, please."

She didn’t sit up. I brought the bottle with the curved straw, watching her drink.

"How about a late breakfast?" I asked.

"Sounds perfect."

"Breakfast in bed," I chuckled. It was afternoon, but rules didn’t matter today.

Downstairs, Chef Wally already had food prepared.

"You look tired," I told him.

"It’s fine. I’m cooking for everyone."

"Jane needs to eat more," I said. "She barely ate last night."

He nodded. "Aly already visited the grave she made."

I exhaled. "The cats at the mansion?"

"Safe. Inside."

I brought the tray upstairs. We ate on the balcony in silence, forest stretching before us, ocean cliffs just beyond. I reached for her hand.

"What is it?" she asked.

"May I hunt?" I asked softly.

She studied me. "What if it was a kid?"

I chuckled. "A kid wouldn’t know how to conceal poison between layers of cardboard."

"Maybe they would."

I sighed. "Let me handle it. If it’s a kid, Lore will."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I hope you won’t change... for the worse."

"For you?" I smiled, kissing her hand. "Never."

A smile finally touched her lips.

Damn it. I love her.