Chapter 68: A Night of Passion

The lights in the neighboring houses dimmed one by one. After a hearty dinner, Alia and her companions rose to leave. Elias watched them from the doorway, his eyes filled with reluctant longing, especially when his gaze lingered on Elise. His lips held a faint, bittersweet smile as he waved them off.

"Go back inside; it's already dark," Alia called back, urging him gently, though she sighed inwardly. Young love… it's always so complicated.

Back at home, Marcellus wasted no time heading straight to the study.

Alia lingered by the staircase, watching his familiar figure disappear behind the study door. Her lips curled into a self-deprecating smile. Of course, his mind is still preoccupied with the secrets buried in that room.

In the study, Marcellus switched on the desk lamp, his gaze sweeping across the rows of books on the shelves. A vague unease prickled at him tonight, prompting his attention to shift to a concealed mechanism at the corner of the desk. He activated it with a soft touch, revealing a hidden box containing a weighty diary.

Handling the diary with utmost care, he flipped through a few pages, confirming there were no signs of tampering or alteration. Yet, as he prepared to return it to its hiding place, he noticed a single, fine strand of hair caught on the edge of the box.

Picking up the hair, Marcellus examined it closely, his brows furrowing slightly.

Something's off.

He had always been meticulous about safeguarding this mechanism—such evidence shouldn't exist here.

"Livia?"

Her name was the first to cross his mind, momentarily easing his tension. She had grown closer to him recently; perhaps it was unintentionally brought in during one of their moments together.

Still, he flipped through the diary again, his fingers brushing every page as if searching for traces of intrusion.

When he finally closed the book, his thoughts remained unsettled. This diary held too many of his past secrets—not just as a record but as a constant reminder of caution.

It's a risk.

His grip tightened, as though he might rip the diary apart or toss it into the flames of the fireplace at any moment.

Yet, in the end, he placed it back.

I still need it. Burning it now would be premature. It serves as both a tool and a warning. But I need to find a safer place for it.

Returning to the bedroom, Marcellus found Alia sitting by the bed. She glanced up as he entered, her tone casual.

"Done with your work in the study?"

"Mm." Marcellus removed his jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned to her with a curious look.

"How were Elias and Elise today?"

Alia immediately understood what he was implying and didn't beat around the bush.

"They're truly in love, and I support them wholeheartedly."

Marcellus fell silent for a moment, then nodded. However, his words carried a hint of caution.

"You do realize their union will face significant challenges."

Alia's brow furrowed slightly, irritation flashing across her mind. Of course. Nobles always look down on love that crosses social boundaries.

But his next words took her by surprise.

"If Elias proves himself capable and takes on some of the family's responsibilities, I can formally recognize Elise as my sister. That way, their statuses will align."

Alia lowered her gaze, masking the complexity in her eyes. She replied softly, "You've thought this through very thoroughly."

Marcellus, oblivious to the nuance in her tone, nodded as though it were the most natural thing. He then turned away to prepare for bed.

Sitting by the bed, Alia's thoughts raced. What kind of person is he? On one hand, he calculates every detail for the family's benefit. On the other, he's willing to help me achieve my goals.

Her gaze landed on his back, her emotions a tangled web.

How much of him is genuine, and how much is manipulation?

As the night deepened, an unspoken tension lingered between them.

The dim light cast fragmented shadows across the expansive bed, creating the illusion of drawing them closer.

Marcellus reached out, his fingers brushing against Alia's cheek with a tenderness that revealed an undeniable depth of feeling. "It's been so long… I've missed you," he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

Alia looked at him, her emotions roiling. She knew she should remain composed, maintain a safe distance. Yet, as he approached, she found herself unable to push him away.

Initially, her response was perfunctory, an attempt to mask her inner turmoil. She didn't want to expose her struggles, nor did she wish for Marcellus to detect her hesitance. But as his breath warmed her skin, and as he whispered those familiar yet enigmatic words, a fire ignited within her.

She couldn't distinguish whether her feelings were love for Marcellus or resentment for him. Does he love me? Or is he clinging to his obsession with "Livia"? Or worse, using "Livia" as a tool?

This internal conflict, a blend of affection and resentment, blurred her judgment. Suddenly, she became bolder, her passion surprising even herself.

Marcellus was caught off guard by the change. She was no longer the gentle and restrained woman he had known; instead, she took control with a fervor that left him stunned. Her kisses were intense, as though she sought to pour all her emotions into them.

When she bit his shoulder, Marcellus paused briefly before chuckling softly. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

His tone was indulgent, oblivious to the deeper turmoil in her heart, interpreting her actions as playful rather than significant.

Alia, however, felt a storm raging within her. This is who he is—he's never truly understood my feelings, nor does he care to.

Through the night, their repeated intimacy seemed an attempt to find solace in each other.

In that moment, Alia felt Marcellus's earnestness. Yet, she knew it couldn't answer her questions or ease her doubts.

The contradiction tore at her, yet she couldn't resist being drawn in, using the night's passion to vent her confusion and struggles.

As the night waned, Marcellus held her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Tonight, you were… different," he remarked quietly.

He didn't dwell on it, only feeling a mix of surprise and joy at this newfound closeness. This version of Alia intrigued and satisfied him, making him believe they had reached a deeper level of intimacy.

Alia, however, said nothing. She leaned against his chest, closing her eyes to hide the tempest of emotions within.

He truly doesn't understand a thing.

She sighed inwardly, but she couldn't deny that, for this one night, his affection had shaken her resolve once more.