The Lycan King's Fate Calling (Shawn Gibson and Sylvia) novel Chapter 963

Rufus' POV:

A loud noise greeted me upon my return to my palace. It was an explosion coming from the kitchen, followed by a child's cry.

I felt my heart quicken its pace. I scurried towards the kitchen and noticed a little girl who had an afro and probably a smudged face. She had her back facing me; particularly, she struggled to climb on a chair, her butt waving at me, as she fiddled with something beside the oven. I lifted my gaze towards the stove, and on it were a scorched pot and bowls on top of the other.

Headache surged through me as the scene left me baffled and speechless. The anger that I wanted badly to vent as I made my way here dissipated when I saw the little girl. I moved towards her.

"Beryl, what are you doing?" I tried to sound gentle. The last thing I would want right now was to frighten the girl, lest her mother would be so petty as to get even with me.

Just the thought of her mother—that she-wolf— had me gritting my teeth. For the first time in my life, someone dared to ditch me and run away. She told me her stomach ached, but only a fool would believe her stupid excuse. It was obvious that she was guilty for a reason I didn't know. All I could gather was that she must be up to no good.

"Daddy, you're back!" Beryl turned around, surprised to know I was in the kitchen. Without second thoughts, she gave up on the unrecognizable roast chicken of some sort that was on her hand, jumped off the chair, and circled her little arms around my thighs, leaving it oil-stained.

I frowned instinctively but didn't push her away. Instead, I picked her up. The stains might have earned a scowl from me, but I remembered something exploded earlier and Beryl might be hurt.

I had no idea why I was acting like this, but I fooled myself into thinking that I wasn't getting any younger, yet still without a child to nurture. I wanted to see young versions of me running along the hallways of this grand palace, but seeing as I had none, I figured I could care for other people's children to express my fatherly love I had no one else to give to.

"What are you doing?" I repeated my unanswered question, although I had quite an idea what she was trying to concoct, judging from the burnt chicken-looking food she threw away. I took out a handkerchief and handed it to her to wipe her hands.

"I was too hungry and craving for a roast chicken." The little girl ignored the handkerchief and stretched out her oily hands confidently, asking me to help her wipe. This girl was cunning, I would give her that.

I sighed and did as she pleaded. "Have you had dinner yet?"

Beryl shook her head, feeling aggrieved, her lips pulled into a pout. "Not yet. I didn't see you when I woke up, Daddy. I felt scared."