Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 162

Chapter 162: Chapter 162: But promise me one thing
Lilac was taken aback when she spotted a middle-aged man waiting for them inside. His presence radiated an unsettling darkness, and the moment his eyes landed on them, the corner of his lips curled into a cold, almost mocking smile.

“I expected this to be a man-to-man conversation,” Logan drawled, his gaze locking onto Lilac with an unreadable stare. “But you brought a girl along?”

Without a word, Stanley stepped forward, pulling Lilac behind him, shielding her from Logan’s deadpan eyes.

“Who I bring is none of your concern,” Stanley replied sharply. “You came looking for me, and here I am — right in front of you.”

Logan nodded thoughtfully and crossed one leg over the other.

“Then let’s talk,” he said smoothly, making Stanley’s brow furrow.

Even as he sat there, a lingering thought kept creeping at the back of Stanley’s mind — a thought he couldn’t shake whenever he looked at the man before him.

Back then, when he hunted down the men involved in his parents’ murder, he had been methodical and discreet, eliminating them one by one. But none of them had ever revealed why his sister was taken.

And now, staring at the man who had approached him without warning, without invitation, Stanley couldn’t help but stay on high alert.

There was no assuming this man’s purpose — or how, after all his careful efforts to remain hidden, Logan had managed to find him.

Stanley eased into the seat across from him, Lilac settling at his side. Their gazes locked with Logan’s, neither side willing to blink, much less back down.

“I assume,” Logan began, his tone cool and steady, “that the girl already knows why I’m here. So let’s not waste time.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering.

“Tell me — why are you after the men of the Dragon Gang?”

Stanley’s brows knitted, confused by the man’s words.

“Aren’t you one of them?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You must be worried that you’re next on my list.”

His jaw tightened, refusing to waver, while Logan remained just as calm and unfazed as before.

But behind his blank expression, Logan was studying Stanley closely, trying to read the man beyond his composed exterior. On the surface, Stanley seemed steady — almost too steady — but Logan could sense the storm brewing beneath.

There was a deep hollowness in his eyes, a flicker of pain and quiet longing that crossed them for the briefest moment. Logan saw it, clear as day, and there was no mistaking it.

“Are you Victor’s son — Stanley Hawthorne?” Logan’s expression shifted, a flicker of skepticism flashing across his face as the resemblance finally clicked.

Stanley’s sharp features, the same ones Victor once wore with quiet pride, and those deep grey eyes — cold, lifeless — confirmed the truth the moment that name left Logan’s lips.

“Don’t you dare say my father’s name with that filthy mouth,” Stanley snapped, his control snapping as he pulled out his gun, pressing the barrel against Logan’s temple without hesitation.

“Someone who slaughtered him and his family without a shred of mercy doesn’t deserve to speak his name.”

Beside him, Lilac froze, her heart skipping a beat, panic tightening her chest.

But what startled her more wasn’t Stanley’s outburst — it was the man sitting before them, calm as stone, unflinching, as though the cold metal against his head meant nothing at all.

A low, disbelieving laugh rumbled from the man’s chest as he continued to meet Stanley’s glare, unflinching.

“I thought the entire family was wiped out,” Logan mused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a bitter smirk. “But they spared you. And now here you are, hunting for revenge.”

He leaned in slightly, the gun still pressed to his temple, as if daring Stanley to pull the trigger.

“Tell me, Stanley — am I right? Because no sane man would willingly go after people that dangerous, not unless he’s ready to trade his life for it.”

Stanley’s eyes flickered, watching as Logan remained completely unfazed, even as the truth of his past was thrown in his face. What unsettled him more was the man’s calm — the ease with which he handled the situation, despite staring down the barrel of a gun.

After a long, tense moment, Stanley finally lowered the weapon, his gaze lingering on Logan’s unreadable face.

“Why are you here?” he asked coldly. “You wouldn’t risk your life seeking me out if you didn’t already know what I’m after.”

Stanley could see it — the man wasn’t here to pick a fight. He was here for him. But that didn’t make him trustworthy. Anyone who knew his father and knew the men Stanley was hunting couldn’t be taken at face value.

“I came here to help you.”

The words caught Stanley off guard, a flicker of surprise breaking through his guarded expression. But as he studied the man sitting across from him, he could tell Logan wasn’t playing games. His voice held no deception. He was telling the truth.

***

Later that evening, after Stanley dropped her back at the mansion, the first thing Lilac did was head straight to see Sylvester.

Throughout the entire drive home, her mind kept circling back to the man they had met earlier. But as the car pulled up to Rosewood Mansion, her thoughts shifted to her grandfather — the argument they’d had that morning still fresh in her mind. She had stormed out of the house without looking back.

Now, with the rush of emotions settling, Lilac found herself reflecting on her own impulsiveness. She knew she had to work on her aggression — the way it pushed her to act without thinking, without considering how her words or actions could hurt the people she cared about.

But now, standing in front of his study — where the maid had told her he would be — Lilac felt her heart racing with uncertainty.

She hesitated, unsure how to face Sylvester after everything. But then, Stanley’s reassuring words echoed in her mind, steadying her resolve. Drawing a quiet breath, she mustered the courage and pushed open the door.

“Grandpa, I want to talk—”

Her voice faltered as her eyes swept across the room. The study was empty. No sign of Sylvester, even though he was supposed to be there.

“Did he go somewhere?” she murmured under her breath, turning to leave — until something on his desk caught her eye. Her steps slowed, curiosity pulling her closer until her gaze locked onto the corner of a file.

Richard’s blood report.

Her hands moved before her mind could catch up, snatching the file off the desk. She flipped through the pages, and the deeper she read, the more her heart sank. What she found wasn’t just unusual — it was something far more shocking than she could’ve imagined.

“You haven’t outgrown your habit of sneaking into my study, have you, Lilac?”

Sylvester’s voice drifted through the doorway, calm but sharp. Her head snapped up, meeting his gaze, her expression twisted with confusion and suspicion.

“What is this, Grandpa? These reports — what does it all mean?”

Sylvester’s gaze flicked to the file in her hands, and a deep, weary sigh escaped his chest.

“Promise me,” he said quietly, “not a single word of this leaves this room.”

Lilac met his eyes, her expression firm and unyielding. “I can promise that for anyone else. But Kalix — he deserves to know.”

A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Sylvester’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I doubt he doesn’t already,” he replied. “The way he’s kept silent all this time… I can’t guarantee he isn’t fully aware.”

As he moved deeper into the spacious study, his steps unhurried but heavy, Lilac watched him closely. There was no mistaking it now — her grandfather had been carrying a secret all along. And knowing that, the guilt of her earlier actions weighed even heavier on her chest.

***

Inside the café, the low hum of a song played in the background as Lily and Rita sat across from each other at the table.

“I’m grateful you decided to talk with me, Lily,” Rita began, her tone sincere as she appreciated Lily’s effort to reconnect.

It had been a few days since she last visited Lily at her apartment, where she had asked to become friends again. Just as Rita was about to come up with another plan to convince her, Lily had called.

Lily looked at Rita, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. The silence between them lingered for a moment before she spoke.

“I wasn’t sure how to respond at first,” Lily admitted, her voice quiet but steady. “But… I guess I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything.”

Rita nodded, understanding the weight of those words. She’d known how hard it had been for Lily to trust her again, but this was progress.

“I get it,” Rita said softly, leaning in slightly. “And I don’t expect things to go back to how they were before. But I hope… we can start fresh.”

“We can, but promise me one thing. You will allow me to have your man.”

The words sliced through the air, sharper than any blade. For a moment, Rita couldn’t process them—her brain scrambling for some explanation, some context, but finding none. The world around them seemed to shrink, the background sounds dulling beneath the roaring rush of her pulse.

She stared at Lily, searching her face for some sign of sarcasm, of a joke, of anything that would make this moment less surreal. But there was nothing. Only cold, steady calm.

Rita swallowed hard, her throat dry, her palms suddenly clammy against her coffee cup. The confusion twisted quickly, flaring into something sharp and raw—a sting of betrayal laced with disbelief.