Chapter 414: A Husband’s Return
A Husband’s Return
"Well, well..."
The tone was low, smooth, with a hint of amused warmth that immobilized every woman in the room in mid-breath.
"Looks like the party started without me."
The voice swelled out across the hall like the rush of an unexpected current. Heads snapped round, chairs creaked, hearts skipped.
And there, standing in the doorway, was the man they all loved.
Leon.
His own hair, raven-black and long, swept over his shoulders, catching momentary glints from the light of the chandelier. Golden eyes blazed with that same unerasable intensity—tempered only by the slightest smile pulling at his lips. His clothing was plain, nearly austere beside the women’s silks and accoutrements, but no frippery could compare to the rough handsomeness carved into every angle of his face.
At his side was Cassidy, his latest wife. Her beauty was of another sort: demure yet unshakeable, her black hair cascading in waves over a white robe that hugged her lithe form. Her dark eyes glowed with serene confidence, her hand entwined with Leon’s as if it had always rested there.
The view was enough to send gasps and widened eyes, but the initial shock rapidly splintered into something else—delight, curiosity, and teasing playfulness.
Rias broke the silence first. She leaned forward with a grin, crimson eyes sparkling. "Well, well, Daddy finally decided to come to us."
Syra burst into laughter, her green eyes wicked as she nudged her sister. "And look at our new sister. I’d bet darling enjoyed every second of last night."
Cynthia arched a brow, her voice calm but edged with subtle amusement. "You’re not wrong."
The room filled with stifled chuckles, playful glances, and smirks.
Mia, on the other hand, remained stiff. Her cheeks flushed red as the taunting words cut into her. The fact that her sisters glibly joked about her husband and her mother herself made her cringe, but deep within, happiness still welled up in her. She turned her face away, biting her lip, both embarrassed and joyful at the same time.
Cassidy, in contrast to Mia, did not stumble. She smiled weakly, calm and unshakable, her hand still entwined with Leon’s. Shame was not something known to her. Leon was her husband, and these women—be they burning hot, cunning, or flirtatious—were her kin now as well. She would not drop her head for love she wore on her sleeve.
But not all confronted the scene with the same poise.
Among the crowd, two women in especial stiffened, their eyes going wide in shock—Sona and Natasha.
For Natasha, the memory remained so vivid. She had brought Cassidy here once before, unconscious and pale, never imagining that one day she would find her there, standing at Leon’s side, beaming and smiling.
For Sona, the shock weighed more. Natasha had spoken of Cassidy before, but to hear a story and witness the living truth were two different things. This woman—this new bride—stood smiling with her daughter’s husband, her hand in his as if she belonged there.
But Sona’s breath hesitated not just at surprise. It caught when Leon’s golden eyes locked on hers.
"Good," he said again, voice low, warm, "my wife Sona finally came too. I didn’t catch you close enough before."
The words stole the air from the room. Natasha’s heart skipped, anticipating the tension that could follow.
But Sona only smiled. Her thoughts—so clear, so knotted just moments ago—dissolved as she gazed into her husband’s eyes.
"I also want you to look at me closely, husband," she said, her voice tinged with grace.
With a sweep of silver hair, she approached him. Her steps were measured but fluid, queenlike always, though her heart raced with every stride.
Leon’s lips turned upwards even wider. And before anyone could blink, he leaned forward, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her with abandon.
Gasps filled the room.
Sona’s eyes grew wide at the suddenness, a strangled sound escaping her throat. But no more than that, for immediately the shock dissipated. Her hands wrapped around his chest, her body relaxing into his as she let the kiss swallow her reservation. The warmth, the flavor, the yearning—it was all too much, all those years of distance and restraint melted away in that single instant.
By the time Leon finally drew back, the room was silent once more, everyone’s eyes fixed on them.
Lira stood there frozen, her mouth agape, her cheeks aflame. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched her dignified, poised mother kissed with such raw passion.
Syra leaned forward beside Kyra, her voice a low whisper full of incredulity. "What the hell... I didn’t realize Lady Sona—no, Sister Sona—was this intense. Look at her... she’s just like us."
Kyra’s lips curled into a begrudging smile. "More than like us. She’s... hungrier."
Lira’s blush grew deeper, but she didn’t avert her gaze. She couldn’t.
Leon’s hand remained at Sona’s waist as he looked into her eyes, golden eyes sparkling.
Sona leaned close, her breath in his ear, her voice low and husky. "Don’t think this small kiss appeases me. It was the product of many days of desire."
Leon laughed low, the sound vibrating deep within him.
Then his gaze drifted over her, coming to rest upon Natasha.
"Well," he said lightly, smiling, "how are you, Natasha?"
The woman bristled at his sharp stare. Her dark eyes clashed with his, and with a burst of nervousness, she dropped into a bow. "Salutations, my lord."
Leon lifted a hand lazily, cutting the action short. "Don’t do that."
She hesitated, unsure, before raising her head again.
"Thank you," Leon went on, his voice warm but firm. "For everything you’ve done. You’ve done far more than I could have hoped. As a reward..." His mouth smiled. "I grant you one wish. Anything you wish—barring hurt to my wives or myself. That is my promise, written with my own hand."
Shock rippled once more, not only through Natasha, but through the women present. A reward—given willingly, without hesitation.
Natasha’s throat constricted. She hurriedly bent her head and shook it. "No, my lord. I do not require such a favor. It was my duty. I am your slave. That is all."
Leon’s smile didn’t waver. He gestured with his hand in a light motion. "It’s okay. But I mean it. I’m really thankful. Use this opportunity."
Her lips parted, hesitation dancing across her face. She looked to the side—toward Sona.
Sona’s eyes met hers, calm and warm. "Take it," she whispered.
Their connection—fresh, already fierce—spoke volumes in that one glance.
Slowly, Natasha breathed in, then nodded. "Very well, my lord. I take it. But... I will not make this wish today. I will save it for tomorrow."
Leon’s laughter rumbled again, low and amused. "Fair enough. Today or tomorrow—doesn’t matter. But remember, a promise is a promise."
Natasha lowered her head again, but this time with a faint smile at the edge of her lips.
The tension finally started to dissipate, warmth after the storm.
And then Nova clapped her hands together lightly, her green eyes sparkling with a touch of authority and playfulness.
"Alright then," she said, her voice bubbly, "the meeting is adjourned. Now let’s eat breakfast before it gets cold."
The women smiled softly, the enchantment of intense feelings shattering at last.
"Agreed." Rias smirked, her scarlet stare flashing toward Leon. "Let’s eat before Daddy distracts anyone else."
"Too late for that," Syra muttered with a wicked smile, sending a ripple of laughter around the table.
The family, united by love, longing, and all the flame between them, turned to the feast awaiting them—warm food, warm laughter, and the man they had all waited for, at last among them again.