Chapter 112: Chapter 112 Behind Closed Doors

Bella’s POV

"There are some things we need to discuss before I leave tomorrow morning," Vance announced, his voice carrying that familiar authoritative tone.

"I never planned to stay this long when I arrived, but it’s been weeks now. I have obligations back home that require my attention," he continued, unfastening his expensive wristwatch with practiced movements.

"Before I go, there are certain precautions you need to understand," he added firmly.

I rose from my seat, placing my wine glass on the side table and giving him my full attention.

"Would you mind retrieving my documents from the bedroom?" he asked.

I nodded and walked toward the bedroom to collect what he needed. An orange folder sat on the nightstand, thick with papers and handwritten notes. As I lifted it, I could feel the weight of whatever important information it contained.

Walking back through the hallway, I stopped short when I noticed Chloe had appeared in the living room. She stood close to Vance, closer than I had ever seen her position herself before.

"What do you need, Chloe?" Vance’s voice held no warmth as he addressed her, unaware of my presence in the shadows.

"It’s just that the entire day has gone by, and we haven’t had any time together," she said softly, her voice carrying a pleading quality that made my chest tighten.

Her behavior always puzzled me. During the day when Vance was absent, Chloe treated me with casual friendliness. But the moment he appeared, she transformed into someone entirely different. Tonight was the first time I had witnessed their private interactions, and what I saw surprised me.

Vance fixed her with an icy stare that could have frozen water.

"I’ve been thinking about you all day. Can’t we just retire together now? It’s getting late, and I’ve been waiting up just for you," she continued, her words sending an uncomfortable chill through my body.

"Chloe, have you completely lost your senses? What exactly are you implying? When did I ever commit time to you? Do you believe I’m somehow obligated to you?" Vance’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

The folder trembled in my grip. While I knew they maintained professional boundaries around me, I had never witnessed their private dynamics. I had always assumed they shared some romantic connection, perhaps even deep affection, but watching him address her with such coldness while she practically begged for his attention painted a very different picture.

"No, you haven’t made any promises," she replied quickly, her response lacking any trace of romantic indignation.

A girlfriend would have been hurt by his harsh reminder that she meant nothing to him. Instead, Chloe seemed focused on appeasing his irritation.

"I just miss being near you," she repeated, her tone growing more submissive.

"Chloe, remove yourself from my path. My wife and I have important matters to discuss. Nobody forced you to stay conscious. Go to bed," he stated matter-of-factly, retrieving a cigar from his jacket and striking a match.

He deliberately blew the smoke in her direction, and I watched her suppress her coughing to avoid displaying any sign of discomfort that might anger him further. The interaction filled me with both fury and pity for her situation.

"But you’re departing tomorrow morning. Can’t you spare just one hour for me?" she persisted, clinging to whatever remained of her dignity.

"Chloe, I have critical business to handle with my wife. I will not explain this again," he warned, his words carrying an unmistakable threat.

She finally retreated, offering a slight bow of submission.

"I’ll keep my door open in case you change your mind," she whispered with a trembling voice before disappearing into the adjacent room.

True to her word, she left the door ajar.

I took a steadying breath and composed my expression before returning to the living room with the requested folder.

The moment Vance spotted me, he immediately crushed the cigar and frantically waved his hand to disperse the lingering smoke.

I mimicked his gesture as I entered the room.

"Why do you insist on smoking indoors? The air circulation is terrible," I criticized.

Unlike Chloe, I refused to beg for scraps of attention or remain silent to avoid potential conflict.

"We could move to the upstairs terrace," I suggested, walking around the coffee table to join him.

As I passed, his hand found the small of my back. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against my spine, causing my skin to react with involuntary shivers.

"The terrace sounds perfect," he agreed readily.

I quickly collected the documents and headed toward the staircase. Knowing Chloe’s door remained open, I wanted our conversation to be completely private. From Vance’s behavior, I sensed he had intentions beyond simple business discussion.

We settled together on the outdoor furniture, a small table positioned conveniently between us. I arranged the folder’s contents across its surface.

Vance began explaining a weapon he intended to leave behind for my protection. He described showing it to the local werewolf authorities upon his arrival and securing proper permits through the council. The firearm would remain here with me after his departure.

He detailed its storage location and referenced additional materials within the folder, including comprehensive interview techniques for the affected victims. The thoroughness of his preparation amazed me. I had never expected him to invest such serious attention in the mysterious illness plaguing our community.

He rarely discussed the situation openly, yet page after page revealed detailed questioning strategies, warning signs to monitor, and precise documentation methods. I felt overwhelmed by his unexpected thoughtfulness and deeply grateful for his genuine concern.

While organizing the scattered papers, I felt his hand return to my back. His fingertips traced leisurely paths along my vertebrae, causing my muscles to tense involuntarily.

"Come closer," he murmured, encircling my waist and drawing me back against his solid chest.

I offered no resistance. His generosity toward me and my children made complete rejection of his advances impossible. I remembered everything he had provided them, everything he had given our family.

Even during emotionally distant periods, he guaranteed their comfortable lifestyle. He shielded them from dangers in both human society and supernatural realms, offering security I could never have achieved through decades of independent work.

Because of Vance’s protection, my children enjoyed privileges from birth that most could only dream of achieving.

As I relaxed against his warmth, his palm settled gently across my abdomen.