Sweet Hatred-Chapter 247: Call

We took the elevator down together, silence stretching between us for once. Maybe we’d reached a truce. Or maybe I was just too tired to argue anymore.

At the café near the lobby, Sylas stepped up to the counter, obnoxiously charming the barista while I hung back by the window.

The sunlight filtered through the glass, warm against my skin.

I exhaled slowly, finally feeling like I could breathe...

My phone rang. I blinked, then glanced down.

Unknown number. Not Olivia. Not anyone I recognized. Just a string of unfamiliar digits lighting up the screen like a warning.

My thumb hesitated over the screen trying to see if I could recognize it from somewhere. Then I answered.

"Hello?"

Silence.

The voice I hadn’t heard in years.

The voice I thought I’d buried right alongside the parts of myself I never wanted to dig up again.

"Aria."

I stopped breathing. My heart slammed against my ribs.

I barely noticed Sylas turning back toward me, holding up two fingers to ask something about sugar.

I didn’t answer.

No. No way. But I knew that voice.

I knew it. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

"...Dad?"

The silence on the other end throbbed like a bruise.

Then his voice came again, soft, almost disbelieving.

"It feels good... hearing you still call me that."

The warmth drained from my limbs instantly.

"It was a slip of the tongue," I snapped. My tone dropped like a blade. "Don’t get sentimental."

He exhaled something that sounded like a laugh, or a choke. I didn’t care.

"What do you want?" I demanded. "How did you even get my number? Was it Olivia? Did she give it to you?"

"Aria, please don’t hang up—"

"Start talking."

"I want to see you."

I froze.

"Haven’t you done enough?" My voice cracked, venom bleeding through. "You already got what you wanted. You split us up. You fooled Olivia, didn’t you? Congratulations. You win. You always do."

"That’s not what happened."

"No?" I said bitterly. "Because it sure as hell looks like history repeating itself. And spoiler alert, this time, I’m not going to sit there and take it with a smile."

"I just want to talk. I just... I want to apologize."

"Too late for that."

"Aria—"

I cursed under my breath. My knuckles went white around my phone. Every inch of me was screaming. Fighting the urge to yell. To scream. To break something.

I didn’t realize how loud my voice had gotten until I heard the shuffle of footsteps beside me.

Sylas.

He held a tray with both drinks in hand, expression shifting from amused to guarded the second he caught sight of me. His eyes scanned my face like he could hear every sharp, choked word coming through the receiver.

"Please," my father continued. "Just meet with me. Once."

I closed my eyes. My entire body buzzed with rage and restraint. The phone felt too hot in my hand. My other fist curled tightly in my lap.

"Fine," I bit out. "Where?"

He gave me a location. Some café near the harbor. Too public for a scene, too quiet for my liking.

"Four," he said.

I hung up before he could say another word.

For a second, I just sat there.

Breathing.

Staring at the floor like it could give me answers. Or a goddamn time machine.

Then,

"You look terrifying right now," Sylas said, gently setting the tray on the table.

My gaze snapped to him.

He leaned forward, studying me with unnerving precision.

"And somehow," he added, "even more attractive than usual."

That tugged the tiniest laugh from my throat. Just a breath. A crack in the shell.

"Don’t push it," I muttered, grabbing my drink.

But the tension didn’t leave me. Not even a little.

And Sylas knew it.

He went still for a second, eyes scanning mine.

Then, with surprising gentleness, he said,

"... I’m sorry. That joke was out of line."

I shook my head quickly, the ache in my chest still raw.

"No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I snapped. Took it out on you."

He gave me a crooked smile. "I don’t mind. You can snap at me whenever. I can take it."

Before I could argue, he shifted.

Moved his chair.

Slid it around to my side.

Now, we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, his body turned fully toward mine, all attention locked on me like he wasn’t going to look away until I said it.

"What was the call about?" he asked quietly.

I stared down at the lid of my coffee cup. My fingers were clenched so tight, I barely noticed the slight tremor.

"I..." I bit my lower lips. "It was my dad."

Sylas went quiet.

I exhaled. "The one who’s supposed to be dead to me. To my sister."

I laughed bitterly under my breath.

"But unfortunately, he’s still very much alive. And still very good at making me regret not killing him when I had the chance."

Sylas didn’t respond right away. He just stared at me. Like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

"So... why’d he call?" he asked eventually, voice careful.

I rolled the cup between my palms. "He wants to see me."

That one sentence felt like a dead weight. A curse, spoken aloud. Silence settled thick between us again.

Then,

"Do you want to?"

I blinked. Looked at him.

"I don’t know," I said honestly.

Sylas nodded slowly, eyes never leaving mine. "Where?"

I told him.

He didn’t hesitate.

"I’m going with you."

My head snapped toward him. "What?"

He gave me a look. That same look he wore earlier when I tried to shoo him away from my office, the one that said you can’t get rid of me that easily.

"I said I’m going with you."

"You don’t have to do that," I muttered, half-shaking my head.

"I know I don’t," he said. "That’s why I’m going."

----

After the coffee break, I didn’t go back upstairs.

Instead, I stepped into the hallway, phone pressed to my ear, fingers tight around the edge.

"Rose," I said when she picked up.

"Yes, Ms. Thorne?"

"I need you to clear my schedule for the rest of the day."

A pause.

"Understood."

I didn’t give an explanation. I didn’t need to. She never asked for one anyway.

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