Chapter 192: Chapter 192 Mysterious painting
Alina’s heart skipped a beat when she noticed Dante enter the playroom. His steps were slow, his face as unreadable and cold as always, yet the way he carried Sable was unexpectedly careful—his large hands supporting the little boy with a steadiness that made it clear he knew exactly how to hold a child.
Gently, he bent and set Sable down on his feet. The boy blinked, his wide eyes reflecting the glow of the playroom as he looked around, almost dazed by the sight of the toys, the soft mats, and the miniature castle. For a moment, it was as if he had forgotten to breathe.
Alina’s gaze lingered on the scene, her chest tightening at the quiet tenderness of it. But then Dante’s head shifted, and his deep crimson eyes met hers across the room. His stare felt like it pierced right through her, too direct, too consuming, and Alina was caught off guard. Her throat tightened, and with a startled breath she looked away, pretending to adjust her dress.
Still, she could sense his gaze on her, the intensity of it pressing against her even as she avoided it. Finally, Dante shifted his attention back to Sable, gave the smallest nod of acknowledgment, and then turned. Without a word, he left the playroom, his tall figure vanishing through the door, his cold aura trailing behind him like a shadow.
And Alina exhaled quietly, only then realizing she had been holding her breath. Her heart still thudded against her ribs, louder than she liked to admit.
****
Later, after the playroom had grown quiet and every baby had dozed off together inside the tiny castle.
Their small chests rose and fell in soft rhythm, and the sight of them curled in a castle beds made her heart full with tenderness. Smiling, she quietly pulled the door shut, leaving them to their dreams, and stepped into the long hallways.
This place was eerily still. The usual hum of footsteps and voices was gone, leaving only the faint echo of her own shoes against the marble. Her gaze wandered across the corridor. Everything here was modern, elegant.
The clean lines, the soft lights hidden in carved sconces.
She slowed when she reached a broad stretch of wall filled with paintings. Each canvas was large, framed in ornate gold, showing regal figures and moments of history. But then her eyes caught on one painting, and she froze.
Her breath hitched.
A woman beautiful, smiled from the canvas. Her lips curved into a devilish smirk, her gaze sharp enough to pierce through the still air. She radiated a presence that unsettled Alina, as though even captured in paint, she still held power. But what truly startled her was the figure standing beside her.
Dante.
Or at least, someone who looked so much like him. Yet... not quite.
She stepped closer, her pulse quickening. His features were familiar—tall, striking, dark hair falling against his temple but the details were off. His eyes in the painting were not the deep crimson she knew, but a strange brownish-red, burning in a way that felt wilder. A black piercing glinted against his left ear, catching the painted light, and his mouth carried a smile unlike anything she had ever seen from him.
It wasn’t the calm, cold, or faintly amused expression she’d grown used to. This smile was magnetic, bold, almost reckless—a smile that lured you in, daring you to fall, even if it destroyed you.
Alina’s throat tightened. Her Dante never smiled like that. This man in the painting felt like someone else entirely—dangerous and unfamiliar.
Her hand hovered in the air as if she wanted to touch the canvas, to trace the lines of his unfamiliar expression, but she pulled back quickly, hugging her arms instead. A shiver ran through her.
Who are you? she thought silently, staring at that smile. The same Dante... or someone else?
"Miss Alina!"
Alina jumped at the sudden voice. She turned, startled, and found Dante standing in the corridor, his face carved in cold stone.
"S-sir..." she stammered, still flustered from being caught staring at the painting.
His crimson gaze shifted toward the canvas on the wall. For the briefest moment, something unguarded flickered across his eyes.. something painful, sharp and fleeting, especially when his gaze focused on the man in the portrait. His jaw tightened, but his voice remained smooth and controlled when he finally spoke.
"Come with me. I’ve prepared a rest room for you as well."
Alina blinked, surprised, then nodded quickly and followed him in silence. Her curiosity itched at her, but she kept it buried as they walked together.
They passed the playroom where the children were still fast asleep, and beside it, Dante opened another door. Inside was a small yet elegant room: a neat bed with fresh linens, a wardrobe polished to shine, and a private bathroom. Though simple, it felt warm and carefully prepared.
"Thank you, sir," Alina said softly, a smile touching her lips despite her confusion.
Dante gave a curt nod and turned to leave. She heard the faint sound of the door closing behind him, and then his footsteps fading down the hall.
Alina exhaled slowly, her chest fluttering with questions she dared not ask.
Meanwhile, Dante returned to the hallway. His tall frame stopped once more in front of the painting. He stood in silence, the shadows of the castle clinging to him, his eyes dark as he looked at the man in the portrait. His lips pressed together.
He drew in a long, measured breath, forcing the heaviness from his chest. Then, with the same cold grace, he turned and continued walking until he reached his own chambers.
The room he entered was vast, draped in dark themes—modern, sleek lines against shadows that seemed alive. Black walls trimmed with silver, heavy curtains drawn, and a single dim lamp casting light over his desk. It was a place that matched him perfectly: cold, powerful, and unknowable.
He took a deep breath, his chest rising slowly. His hand brushed against the edge of the desk, fingers curling into the flat wood. For a moment, he closed his eyes.
But the painting refused to leave his mind.
"Not now," he muttered under his breath, his voice low, almost broken for a second before he forced it back to ice.