God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 540

Chapter 540: Violent Outrage
As he watched the happy scene before him, veins popped up on the side of Bella’s father’s neck, his frustration building and building, swelling inside him like a volcano about to erupt.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse.

His eyes landed on the stacked jars in the corner of the room.

He blinked.

There were so many of them—lined up neatly, labels printed far too professionally to be some kind of casual kitchen hobby.

Something about them looked off, like they didn’t belong there, like they were important in a way he didn’t understand yet.

And then—it clicked.

A bad feeling crawled up his spine as his lips parted slightly, his breath catching.

And before he even realized what he was doing, he cut through the conversation.

“What are those?”

The lively atmosphere at the table instantly shifted.

The laughter halted. The conversation froze.

Camila, Bella, and Kafka all turned to him, surprised by the sudden sharpness in his tone.

“Why are there so many of them? What the hell is all that?” He gestured toward the jars, his eyes narrowing.

Camila’s expression remained neutral, but there was a brief flicker of something—caution, calculation—before she responded smoothly. “They’re just some sauces we’ve been working on.”

“We?” He asked back, his tone more indignant.

Camila hesitated.

For a moment, she considered her words carefully, wondering if she should even bother explaining everything to him.

‘Would it make a difference? Would he listen?’

But then she pushed those thoughts aside.

This was good news—for her, for Bella, for everyone who had worked so hard on this. There was no reason to hide it. No reason to feel like she had to ask for permission.

So, lifting her chin slightly, she spoke with calm confidence.

“It’s a business.” She said, her voice unwavering. “Bella and I started making sauces to sell. We’ve already made arrangements, and soon, they’ll be hitting the shelves in local stores.”

The words had barely left her lips and—

CRASH!~

The violent sound of shattering ceramic ripped through the room, making Bella flinch as the plate smashed against the floor, its broken pieces scattering in every direction.

The dining table was suddenly a mess—forks clattered to the ground, sauce splattered against the surface, the once peaceful meal completely ruined in the blink of an eye.

Camila’s heart lurched, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes snapped toward her husband—

And what she saw made her face twist in cold dread.

His face was contorted in pure fury, his eyes wild with rage and disbelief, his fists trembling violently at his sides.

Bella stiffened in her seat, her hands clenching onto the table for support, her entire body going rigid at the sight of him unraveling before their eyes.

Her father had already been barely holding on—she could see it in the way his jaw twitched, the way his breathing had grown heavier throughout dinner, the way his fingers had gripped his utensils with too much force.

But this…This was the final straw.

Camila had crossed a line.

A woman? Starting her own business? Without his knowledge? Without his approval?

It was unacceptable to him.

It was a direct challenge—a betrayal—like she was trying to usurp him, trying to break free from the control he thought he still had over her.

His voice exploded into the air, shaking with undiluted rage.

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood up, his body practically radiating fury.

“HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEHIND MY BACK?!” He roared, his glare piercing into Camila, his hands shaking with restrained violence.

“You think you can just make decisions on your own?!” He seethed, his entire body tensing like a predator ready to strike. “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST IGNORE ME AND DO WHATEVER YOU WANT?!”

Camila didn’t flinch…She didn’t shrink away.

She held his gaze, her expression calm—cold even, as she watched him rage.

She wasn’t the same woman who used to bend under his authority for the sake of maintaining her family.

She wasn’t the same woman who bit her tongue and endured.

She wasn’t the same woman who believed she had no choice.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was steady, even, unshaken.

“I didn’t do anything behind your back.” She said as she took a step forward, her gaze sharp, unwavering. “I simply didn’t think I needed your permission.”

That was it.

That was all it took.

Something inside him snapped completely.

His eyes darkened, his expression twisting into something ugly, something vile.

“You should know your place!” He spat, stepping toward her, his hand twitching slightly at his side. “A woman should NEVER forget her place!”

Bella froze, her heart feeling like it was going to jump out at the storm that was erupting before.

She saw it. She saw the way her father’s musclesmuscles tensed, saw the way his rage boiled over, saw the way his fingers curled into a fist as he took another threatening step forward.

And for a split second—she thought he was going to hit her.

But before she could move—before she could even think of reacting—

She saw her mother expression and she stood completely still.

Why?…Because her mother wasn’t scared.

She wasn’t cowering, wasn’t shrinking away, wasn’t bracing for impact.

She was standing tall. Staring him down.

Her chin lifted ever so slightly, her posture unshaken, unmoving, unbreakable

Daring him…Daring him to try.

Daring him to see what happens if he laid a hand on her.

And for the first time ever, Bella saw her father hesitate.

His fury flickered.

His rage wavered.

Because in that moment, he knew that if he raised his hand against her this time, it wouldn’t end the way he thought it would.

Camila wouldn’t just stand there and take it.

She wouldn’t just accept it.

Being the proud woman she was, she would fight back.

And he wasn’t sure if he’d win.

His fingers twitched again, his teeth grinding together so hard it was audible.

But in the end—

He was a coward.

And like all cowards do when they realize they can’t win—

He ran.

Letting out an incoherent scream of rage, he abruptly turned, shoving the chair out of his way as he stormed toward the door, his steps thundering through the house.

“YOU’LL REGRET THIS, CAMILA!” He bellowed, his voice dripping with impotent fury. “YOU HEAR ME?! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!!”

He slammed the door open, his body practically shaking with frustration.

And then, he was gone.

The moment the door slammed shut, silence fell over the house.

For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Bella let out a shaky breath, her hands still digging into her lap, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.

And then, slowly, she turned to look at her mother.

Camila was still standing tall, her gaze still locked on the door, her face unreadable.

But then, after a long pause, she let out a soft exhale, shaking her head slightly.

“Well.” She said with a casual look on her face like what had just happened was some kind of joke in her eyes. “That was unnecessaryly dramatic, wasn’t it? And he has the gall to us ladies are the ones that overreact over anything.”

Bella giggled at her mother’s comment and she was just about to let out a deep sigh of relief, her shoulders loosening ever so slightly after the chaos that had just unfolded.

But then, her mind snapped to attention.

Something was wrong.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to the side—only to realize Kafka wasn’t sitting next to her anymore.

Her eyes went wide and so did her lips. A sharp panic gripped her chest as she abruptly shot up from her chair, whipping her head around the room.

“Mom!” She called out frantically, her voice rising in alarm. “Where’s Daddy?! He’s not here—he’s going to do something hasty!”

Camila, who had still been composed a moment ago, immediately stiffened at those words.

Bella was right…Kafka wasn’t the type to just let things go.

He had watched everything happen in silence, but that didn’t mean he had accepted it.

And now—he was gone.

Her heartbeat picked up. Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possibility.

Had he gone after her husband?

Was he chasing him down right now?

Was he about to do something irreversible?

Without a second thought, she moved, her body reacting before her mind could even catch up.

But just as she was about to bolt for the door, her eyes flickered downward and she froze.

Kafka…He…He hadn’t gone anywhere.

He was right there.

Not standing…Not storming after her husband.

But, crouching on the ground next to the broken plate.

Bella also found his seated figure and stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“What the—?” Camila, just as shocked, hesitated for a moment before slowly walking toward him.

Her first thought was that he had gotten hurt. Maybe when the plate shattered, a shard had cut him, or maybe something had happened that she hadn’t noticed in the chaos.

But as she stepped closer, her confusion only deepened.

Because Kafka…Kafka was actually eating.

He was eating the pasta that had fallen onto the floor.

She couldn’t help but blink at the sight, her eyes widening as she crouched down next to him, hesitant to even ask.

Kafka looked up at her as if nothing was out of the ordinary, his usual easy smile on his face, a fork in his hand as he twirled some of the fallen pasta onto it.

“Ah.” He said when he saw Camila approaching, lifting the fork to his mouth and taking another bite, chewing with clear satisfaction. “I was right. It really is delicious.”

“W-What?” She watched in stunned silence as he picked up another forkful from the mess on the floor, his expression completely serene, as if he were sitting at a five-star restaurant instead of crouching beside a shattered plate.

“K-Kafka.” Her voice came out slow, careful, unsure, like she was still trying to process what she was looking at.

He glanced at her, unbothered, and swallowed his bite before speaking.

“You said it’s the same recipe you always use.” He said, his tone genuinely thoughtful. “But somehow, I feel like it just keeps tasting better every time you cook it.”

Camila’s lips parted slightly. Her brain short-circuited.

She had no idea how to respond to that.

For a second, she just stared at him, trying to figure out if she was hallucinating, if this was some kind of elaborate joke, if Kafka had actually lost his mind.

Finally, after a moment of stunned silence, she forced herself to ask the obvious question.

“Why…” She said slowly, carefully. “Why are you eating pasta off the ground?”