Sweet Hatred Chapter 211: Feeding off

My hands were folded politely in my lap.

But my heartbeat was screaming.

He didn’t say anything for a while.

Just leaned back, a picture of elegance and power dressed in aged wealth. Fingers steepled in front of him. Like he was in no rush. Like there was nothing urgent or ugly lurking beneath the surface of this impromptu dinner.

"Kael," he finally said, his tone too light to trust. "How is he treating you these days?"

I blinked, startled, my lips parting slightly before I caught myself.

"Sir?"

He smiled faintly, as if amused by my confusion. "My son. You still work closely with him, no?"

Closely was one way to put it.

Too close. Not close enough. Painfully close.

I nodded once. "Yes. Professionally."

Ewan’s brow lifted just enough to be insulting. "Professionally, of course."

He let the silence stretch for just the right number of seconds before he added, "I hope he isn’t too difficult. Kael has always... struggled to express himself."

A strange ache pinched my chest. I didn’t answer.

I didn’t know how.

"He reminds of myself at his age," Ewan continued. "Cold. Calculated. Ambitious to the point of destruction."

I clenched my hands tighter beneath the table.

Still no attack. No demand. Just... musings.

I couldn’t tell if it was so kind of veiled threat or just a bored father talking about his broken toy.

"But you," he said, his gaze cutting sharper, "you’ve surprised ."

I stiffened slightly. "How so?"

"You’ve lasted."

Before I could ask what the hell that ant, the door slid open again.

Yuto returned with a grace that made my own posture feel clumsy. He laid out the dishes before us in quiet precision. The yakisoba arrived steaming, glazed in a rich golden sauce, with curled vegetables and hints of ginger and black sesa.

It looked... divine.

"This," Ewan said, gesturing toward my plate, "must be eaten with chopsticks. And not the way tourists do it—don’t stab at it. Scoop, gently. Like water from a spring."

Was he giving a damn food lesson?

I stared at him, genuinely unsure if this was a test or a joke.

He picked up his own chopsticks, adjusted them with graceful fingers, and nodded toward mine like a teacher instructing a first-day student.

And for so reason—I obeyed.

I lifted the chopsticks, scooped a modest bite, and brought it to my mouth.

My eyes widened a little as the flavor hit my tongue. Salty, slightly sweet, with that punch of ginger and heat that grounded imdiately.

I hated to admit it but... it was exactly what I needed after a day like this.

Ewan watched with that sa half-smile.

Not smug.

Not warm.

Just... knowing.

Like I’d just passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

And it only made more uneasy.

Was this just dinner?

Or was I dining with the devil before he showed the blade?

I should’ve known the silence was a trick.

He let have a few more bites. Let the heat soothe so part of that had gone cold all day. I didn’t even realize I’d let my shoulders fall slightly, or that I was no longer studying every twitch of his fingers like they might reach across the table and snap my neck.

But then he started again.

"So," Ewan said softly, almost like a sigh, "Ashlyn tells you’ve joined the committee for the gala."

My entire body tensed again.

The food suddenly turned to stone in my mouth.

I swallowed before I answered, careful, calm, neutral. "It’s just temporary work."

"Still," he mused, swirling the drink in his glass before reaching for the bottle and pouring into mine, "it’s quite the privilege. Ashlyn is... selective. She doesn’t often bring people in, especially not employees of Kael."

I didn’t touch the cup just yet.

His gaze slid to mine, sharp. "Drink."

So I did. I downed the damn thing in one go. Whatever it was burned down my throat like smoke and salt, but I kept my face blank.

He smiled.

"I like you, Aria."

I stared at him.

"You remind of sothing old. Stubborn. Sharp. A spine like steel beneath all that softness. You don’t rattle easy... but you should."

My fingers were tight around the base of the cup.

"You’re bold. I see it in the way you move. Speak. Even now, you’re watching every word I say, trying to calculate if this is a warning or just... conversation." He chuckled, but it was hollow. "I suppose it’s both."

I didn’t respond. I just kept eating, even if my appetite was long gone.

Then he said it.

"Ashlyn is a perfect fit for Kael. Don’t you think?"

My hand didn’t stop, but my jaw clenched.

I nodded, just once. If he noticed the tremble in my fingers, he didn’t say a word.

"Good," he said, and poured more into his own cup. "It’s good that you understand."

Another pause.

Then the blade slid between my ribs.

"You are not the kind of woman a man like Kael needs."

I looked up. Finally. Slowly.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"You see, Aria... Kael doesn’t love. He possesses. And I taught him that. I taught him how to rule, not how to feel. And you—" he lifted his cup toward , like a toast, "you love him."

That’s when I dropped the chopsticks.

They clattered against the porcelain plate.

The sound rang louder than it should’ve.

He didn’t flinch.

I couldn’t even lie. My mouth stayed shut, breath shallow, heart thudding so violently it felt like it might leave my body and crawl into his hand just to stop the pressure.

"That is why you’re wrong for him," Ewan continued, voice softer now, almost sad. "You feel. You ache. You burn. But Kael? He devours. And one day, you’ll realize he’s not worshiping you—he’s feeding off you."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to say sothing cutting, cruel, sothing that would make him shut the hell up...

But I just sat there, still as stone, while the poison in his words settled in my bones.

Because the worst part?

So part of believed him.