Chapter 796 - 795- Mother-in-law got Embarassed

Chapter 796: Chapter 795- Mother-in-law got Embarassed

Vespera’s face went white. "What? Why — that will create a civil war. The Corwins have allies. If we push into their territory—"

"This is an order from the royal family," the mother said. Her voice was strained. "The other armies are joining. They’re trying to expand the territory. We need to protect our county too."

"No," Vespera said. Her voice was sharp. Firm. The headmistress voice. "I will write a letter to the king. We have to stop it. This is against the rules — the territorial expansion act prohibits unilateral military action without—"

I watched. My hands in my pockets. My eyes moving between the three of them — the worried mother, the stoic father, the panicking daughter. The family that, in my past life, had been wiped out by exactly this kind of situation. The count — eager to prove his loyalty — had marched his small, weak army into the Corwin territory. Had been slaughtered. His lands, confiscated. His family, executed for "collaboration with the enemy" when the political winds shifted.

This family had a weak army. Maybe three hundred soldiers. Underequipped. Undertrained. Sending them against the Corwins — who had allies, who had fortifications, who had been preparing for this — was suicide.

I sighed.

"Write the letter to the Katorian family instead," I said.

The room went silent. Three faces turned toward me. Vespera’s brow furrowed. The mother blinked. The father’s hand paused on his sword.

"What?" Vespera said. "What are you saying, husband? The Katorian family — they are loyal to the throne. They would not help us. Why would we even need their help? And why would they—"

"They would," I said. "Write it."

I pulled a piece of paper from the desk. Found a pen. Sat down. Started writing.

Vespera watched. Her confusion grew with each line. She leaned over my shoulder — the same way she had last night, the academic reflex pulling her toward the written word — and read.

The letter was direct. Formal. Written in the diplomatic style that I’d absorbed from Mira’s correspondence lessons. It addressed the Katorian family. It requested military support — ten thousand soldiers, deployed to the Thorne county, to assist with the territorial expansion ordered by the crown. It cited mutual defense obligations, familial alliances, and the strategic importance of the Thorne county as a buffer zone.

She read it. Her eyes widened with each line. Her mouth opened. Closed.

"But — why would they support—" She stopped. Her eyes reached the bottom of the letter. The signature.

I wrote: ’Viktor Katorian.’

The pen stopped. I looked at her.

She blinked. Looked at the name. Looked at me. Looked at the name. Looked at me. Her mouth formed shapes — the beginning of words that never materialized. Her face cycled through confusion, disbelief, recognition, and finally — shock. Pure, unadulterated shock.

"Eh?" she said. The sound was small. Inadequate. "Hehh?"

Her voice rose. Her glasses slid down her nose. She didn’t push them up.

"HUEHHH?!"

The sound echoed through the dining room. The mother looked up from her letter. The father turned from the door.

I laughed. "What happened?"

The count — her father — stared at the letter. At the signature. At me. His military bearing reasserted itself — the spine straightening, the jaw setting, the eyes sharpening. But beneath the composure, I could see it. The recognition. The calculation. The political mind of a nobleman processing a piece of information that changed everything.

"I knew," he said. His voice was rough. Thick with emotion. "I knew my daughter could not just choose anyone as her husband. She would choose the heir of the Katorian family."

I raised an eyebrow. "You know about me?"

"Indeed, indeed." The count’s hand left his sword. His posture shifted — from departing soldier to welcoming father-in-law. "It has already been declared by the Katorian family that they are going to choose you as their heir. There have been speculations in the nobility for weeks. The Catorian Duchy — the largest military force in the kingdom — choosing a new heir. An unknown. A man no one had seen before." He looked at me. Really looked. At my build. At my eyes. At the way I held myself. "I did not connect it. I should have."

I smiled. The trump card. Played at exactly the right moment. My aunts — the Catorian sisters, both of whom I’d fucked into devoted submission — had already set the wheels in motion. The family declaration. The nobility speculation. The groundwork laid before I’d even arrived in the capital. All I’d needed was the right moment to reveal it.

"Then, father-in-law," I said. The word — father-in-law — settled over the room like a crown being placed. "Aren’t you stopping worrying much?"

The count exhaled. A long, slow breath — the breath of a man who had been carrying the weight of his family’s survival on his shoulders and had just been told someone stronger would carry it. His hand went to his face. Rubbed his eyes. When it dropped, his eyes were wet.

"Indeed, indeed," he said. His voice cracked. "I would go to the county and wait for the support."

The mother stood. Her letter — forgotten — fell to the table. She rushed forward, her thick body moving with surprising speed, and grabbed my hands. Her eyes — tearful, grateful, overflowing — searched my face.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you, son-in-law."

I laughed. Squeezed her hands. "You can just call me Viktor, my lady."

She laughed. The sound was watery. Relieved. "You are very flirty."

"Indeed," the father said, picking up his bag. "Indeed, indeed."

He departed. The carriage waited outside — horses stamping, the driver ready. The count climbed in. The mother stood at the door, waving, her thick arm moving in slow arcs. The carriage pulled away — down the street, around the corner, gone.

Vespera moved to a nearby servant. Her voice had shifted — the headmistress again, commanding, efficient. "Arrange the capital affairs. Handle the business contacts. Prepare the house for reduced staff. Father will need everything forwarded to the county."

The servants bowed. Scattered. Tasks assigned.

And then — the mother-in-law was alone with me.

She stood at the doorway. Watching the carriage disappear. Her hands at her sides. Her thick body — wide hips, heavy breasts, the full figure of a mature noblewoman — silhouetted against the morning light. Her hair — dark brown, silver-streaked — was slightly disheveled. Her morning dress — green, low-cut — strained across her chest.

I leaned close. My mouth found her ear. The proximity was deliberate — close enough that my breath touched her skin, that my chest nearly brushed her shoulder. I could see her body — the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts visible above the neckline, the soft skin of her collarbone.

"Mother-in-law," I murmured. My voice was low. Quiet. The voice I used in bedrooms. The voice that made Mira’s knees weak and Helena’s breath catch. "If you were in her place — you would have taken my cock inside of that little hole of yours, right?"

Her face flushed. The color — violent, immediate — spread from her cheeks to her neck to her chest. I could see it — the rush of blood beneath pale skin, the capillaries dilating, the body responding to the pheromones, to the words, to the proximity of an incubus who was actively targeting her.

Steam practically came out of her ears. The flush was so intense that her skin radiated heat — I could feel it from inches away.

She ran.

Her thick hips swung as she fled — the motion unconscious, the body moving before the mind could process. Her dress pulled across her ass with each step, the fabric stretching, the curve visible. She disappeared around the corner, her footsteps rapid, her breathing audible.

"You are too perverted, son-in-law!"