The Wife He Never Meant to Love (Lila and Damon) novel Chapter 216

Chapter 216

Chapter 216

Mark waited.

And waited.

The night stretched deeper, the silence growing heavier with every passing minute.

Then-

his phone buzzed.

A message from Lila.

*We’ve arrived at the estate.*

Mark glanced at it briefly, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. A faint sense of relief passed through him-but it didn’t linger.

Not tonight.

“Mark… they’re coming,” one of his men said from across the room.

Mark nodded once.

“Positions,” he said calmly. Then his gaze shifted to one man nearby. “You-stay. You’re with me tonight.”

The man frowned slightly.

“And you’re not a guard, Mark added with a grin. “You’re my butler.”

Before the man could protest, Mark was already adjusting his attire, straightening the suit with exaggerated

care.

“Where’s my lady?” Mark called out, amusement creeping into his voice.

A figure stepped forward-

dressed elegantly.

Too elegantly.

The room went quiet for half a second-

then a few whistles broke out.

“Mark… do I really have to wear this?” the man muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

Mark stepped back, studying him with mock admiration.

“My lady,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “You look stunning tonight. Shall we take a picture to remember this moment?”

“Don’t,” the man said quickly. “Mark, don’t.”

“Too late, buddy,” someone from the side chimed in, already laughing.

“Please don’t send that to my girlfriend,” the man added, half-serious now.

To be fair-

he *did* look convincing.

With light makeup and the dress tailored just right, he could easily pass at a glance-as long as he didn’t speak.

The laughter lingered for a moment longer, easing the tension in the room.

Then-

it faded.

Like it always did.

Because they all knew what was coming.

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The men returned to their positions, slipping back into focus, into discipline.

Into readiness.

Mark took his seat on the sofa, posture relaxed-but his eyes sharp.

Beside him sat the “lady,” trying-somewhat awkwardly-to maintain composure.

Mark glanced sideways, a smirk forming.

“Oh, come on,” he said quietly. “Do you really think you can fool someone like him sitting like that?”

The man stiffened.

“This is the last time I agree to something like this,” he muttered under his breath.

Mark chuckled softly.

“Relax. You’ll survive.”

A pause.

Then the man leaned slightly closer, his tone shifting.

“Or we could just burn them,” he said. “End it before it even starts.”

Mark didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze drifted toward the door.

Toward the night beyond it.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said finally, voice calm… but edged with something colder.

A faint sound echoed in the distance.

Engines.

Getting closer.

Mark’s smirk returned-but this time, there was no humor in it.

“Let them come.”

And just like that-

the waiting ended.

The convoy came to a slow halt outside the mansion.

Engines idled.

Doors remained closed.

For a moment, no one moved.

Daven stepped out first.

His gaze lifted-and stilled.

Even he couldn’t hide the flicker of admiration in his eyes.

“How did he build this?” Daven murmured.

The mansion stood vast and imposing, its architecture both timeless and deliberate. Every line, every structure, carried quiet authority-like it had been waiting for the right owner.

“The structure itself is old,” his assistant replied. “Mark Everith acquired it years ago. The records are sealed. We tried to dig into it, but… nothing. Completely confidential.”

Daven smirked faintly.

“That’s why he’s a hundred times better than all of you.”

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The men behind him stayed silent.

One of them, however, couldn’t help but look toward the estate with something deeper than caution.

Curiosity.

Respect.

He had encountered Mark before-

not in person, but in the digital battlefield.

A system war.

And he lost.

Badly.

That was the moment he started paying attention.

When Mark later became part of Blackthorne, he built a firewall so advanced it was considered untouchable. Even the organization’s best-including him-couldn’t break through it.

It reminded him of Marcus Lawel’s pattern-

but stronger.

– Cleaner.

Far more precise.

If given the chance…

He want to watch him closely.

To learn from him.

To witness that level of mastery up close.

And maybe avenge.

Because when he lost in that war he was become the biggest joke inside the organization, after that he was to obsses about him dig deeper about him but he did not exist like he is a ghost in the system no one knew about him.

When he heard that Daven was trying to hire him and plant him to Foster Technology he volunteered to be Daven watcher hoping that one day he will meet Mark.

“Move,” Daven ordered.

The gates opened after identity confirmation.

No resistance.

No alarms.

Too smooth.

The convoy entered the property, every man on high alert. Weapons ready. Eyes sharp.

They expected an ambush.

A trap.

Something.

But nothing came.

They reached the front entrance-

alive.

Unchallenged.

And that alone made it more dangerous.

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The doors opened.

A man in a butler’s attire stood waiting.

Perfect posture.

Polite expression.

Calm.

Daven’s men subtly tensed, scanning every detail.

But nothing seemed out of place.

“The master is waiting in the living room,” the butler said with a respectful nod. “With his lady.”

Daven raised a brow slightly.

“With his lady…” he repeated, a faint smirk forming.

Interesting.

He had expected resistance.

Violence.

At the very least-tension.

But this?

This felt… civilized.

Almost disappointing.

“Well,” Daven muttered under his breath as he stepped forward, “I suppose I’ll have to behave.”

His smirk deepened.

At least for now.

Because suddenly-

he was curious.

What kind of woman…

would someone like Mark Everith choose?

Inside, the air shifted.

And the real game-

was about to begin.

The butler stepped forward and opened the main door.

Daven entered first, followed closely by his two assistants. The moment they crossed the threshold-

the door shut behind them.

A sharp, final sound.

Outside, the remaining men immediately reacted. Hands moved to their weapons, instincts kicking in.

Inside-

everything froze.

The butler remained calm.

Unshaken.

His gaze settled on Daven, composed and unreadable.

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“The master has requested to see you,” he said politely. “Not your entire battalion.”

A brief pause.

“You’re not here to start a war with the master… are you?”

Daven’s eyes narrowed, a challenge forming instantly.

“And what if I am?” he asked.

For the first time-

the butler smiled.

Not nervously.

Not cautiously.

But with quiet amusement.

As if he had just encountered something… disappointingly predictable.

Before Daven could push further, one of his assistants stepped forward.

Henry.

He knew better.

Far better.

This wasn’t some street-level territory dispute. This wasn’t a place where brute force made you powerful.

This was Mark Everith’s ground.

And only fools challenged the master of a domain like this without understanding what they were walking into.

“Of course we’re not here to start a war,” Henry said smoothly.

The butler’s smile deepened slightly.

“Good,” he replied. “At least someone here understands the situation.”

There was a subtle shift in the air.

“You’re lucky,” the butler added.

Henry gave a small signal behind him.

Outside, the tension eased. Weapons lowered.

No fire tonight.

Not yet.

The butler’s gaze lingered on Henry.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Henry hesitated for only a fraction of a second.

“I’m Henry.”

“Henry,” the butler repeated. “A pleasure,”

There was something deliberate in the way he said it.

“I might mention you to the master.”

Henry’s pulse quickened.

Just slightly.

But enough.

“Thank you,” he said.

The butler gestured forward.

“This way.”

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They began walking down the corridor.

But only a few steps in-

Daven’s voice cut through the silence.

“Hey.”

They stopped.

Daven turned his head toward Henry, his expression darkening.

“Are you trying to betray me?”

The air tightened instantly.

Henry met his gaze without hesitation.

The butler, noticing they had stopped, turned back-watching quietly.

Observing.

Measuring.

“No,” Henry said evenly. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

A beat.

“Because if you don’t start using what’s left of your brain-then maybe I will betray you.”

Silence.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

“You bastard-” Daven stepped forward, fist tightening, ready to strike-

“Try it,” Henry said, not moving.

Not flinching.

Daven stopped.

The tension between them stretched thin-ready to snap at any second.

Then-

Daven’s eyes shifted.

To the butler.

Who stood only a few steps away.

Watching.

Waiting.

Composed as ever.

“The master’s time is valuable,” the butler said calmly. “He has no interest in watching internal conflicts.”

His tone remained polite.

But the message was clear.

“If you cannot resolve your disagreement,” he continued, gesturing lightly toward the door behind them, “the exit is that way.”

• Silence fell again.

Heavy.

Pressing.

A single wrong move-

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and everything would collapse into chaos.

And somewhere deeper inside the mansion-

Mark was waiting.

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