Too Prominent

"I went for a walk down at Crimson Avenue," Kaelen replied. A faint, unassuming smile rested on his lips as he met her sharp gaze across the table.

Brielle’s deep frown anchored her expression. Her delicate features tightened into a mask of frustration. She stared at the pathetic excuse for a meal placed between them, then shifted her sight back up at him. "Kaelen, have you seriously considered getting a real job?" she asked bluntly.

Silence stretched over the mahogany dining table for a few long seconds, thick and heavy with unspoken resentment. Several conflicting thoughts waged war inside Brielle's mind. She hated this suffocating setup. She hated the pathetic meals, the lack of ambition, and the sheer mediocrity of her daily life. Her late grandfather had single-handedly forced this arranged marriage upon her, tying her life to a man who seemed content spending his days washing dishes, sweeping floors, and doing nothing of substance. The missing money from Kaelen's reward had paid for that glossy designer bag resting on the wine counter, cementing his role as a mere stepping stone for her mother's bottomless greed. Despite her intense, lingering dissatisfaction with their forced union, a secret, desperate hope stubbornly flickered deep in her chest. She wanted him to become a better, self-sufficient man. They were legally bound. Even though she harbored zero romantic feelings for him at this stage, he remained her husband on paper. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life locked in a bitter war of attrition, despising the man she shared a roof with. She simply wanted him to try, to show some spark of ambition that proved he was a man worth respecting. She wanted to look at him and see a partner, not a dependent.

Kaelen observed her carefully, catching the subtle shift in her bright eyes and the slight softening of her tense shoulders. This was a rare, fragile opening in her usually impenetrable emotional armor. She had never asked about his career prospects before. In the past, she had only ever offered him cold indifference, distant sighs, and dismissive glares. He sensed an opportunity to bridge the massive gap between them. For the first time, she was treating him like a man who had a future outside the four walls of their kitchen. He needed to tread carefully, but he also needed to assert his intentions.

He placed his chopsticks down on the ceramic rest. "I was thinking I could open a medical center," he stated flatly, scrutinizing her reaction. "A clinic focusing on traditional medicine. I could formulate specialized products specifically for your family's failing beauty salon business."

Brielle scoffed. The sound was sharp and biting in the quiet room. She dismissed the ambitious idea before he even finished his sentence. "Traditional medicine? Are you out of your mind? You are still so impractical. Do you know that?"

She shook her head, firmly believing his role in saving Mr. Preston the day prior was nothing more than blind, dumb luck. "You just lucked out yesterday. Don't sit there and act like you possess some profound medical knowledge just because you happened to be present when Mr. Preston was dying."

Kaelen kept his tone light, refusing to let her harsh judgment extinguish his calm demeanor. "I know a bit about traditional medicine. Beauty treatments are basically a subdivision of that field. The Vales operate a beauty salon, and I know it hasn't been doing well lately. I want to help you, so I have spent some effort studying this aspect. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be able to formulate a great beauty product for you to turn the business around."

"Fine, fine. Whatever," Brielle muttered, breaking eye contact to stare at her meager plate of food. "Let's just eat."

She lowered her head and picked at her sparse vegetables, instantly losing all interest in the conversation. She had zero faith in his abilities. He might have the naive determination to dream up wild scenarios, but she refused to entertain the delusion that a stay-at-home husband could suddenly become a master herbalist.

Martha chimed in from across the mahogany table. Her voice sliced through the heavy tension. "Actually, I think a medical center is a brilliant idea."

Kaelen shot his mother-in-law a mild look of shock. Martha supporting him? Her underlying motives were transparent. He would never naively believe she was offering genuine encouragement. She viewed him purely as an infinite cash cow after intercepting that twenty-thousand-dollar check from the Doyle family earlier that afternoon. She just wanted him to set up a clinic so she could milk more money out of his imaginary patients.

Brielle turned to her mother. Her brow furrowed even deeper. "Brilliant? What are you talking about? What's so nice about it? He doesn't know the first thing about real medicine."

Martha leaned forward. Her eyes gleamed with unfiltered greed as she stubbornly defended her new golden goose. "How do you explain Mr. Preston then? He survived, didn't he? And the powerful Doyle family came all the way here to personally thank him and hand over a massive check. If you ask me, there’s some merit to his words. Maybe Kaelen does have a hidden talent in medicine!"

Brielle quickly shattered her mother's greedy illusion. "Mom, can you not listen to his nonsense?" she snapped, frustrated by Martha's blatant delusion. "He was simply lucky that day. The ambulance arrived in time, and Kaelen only helped the paramedics physically carry the bleeding patient into the vehicle. That’s it."

Martha froze. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale and wide-eyed. "What? It wasn't Kaelen who cured him?"

"What are you looking at me for? That's the exact truth," Brielle said harshly, stripping Kaelen of any medical credit.

Horrified that the reward might have been given under false pretenses, Martha’s demeanor flipped. The pacified silence bought by the designer bag evaporated in an instant. She slammed her manicured hand flat on the dining table. "Kaelen!"

She threatened him, pointing a shaking finger directly at his face. "Listen to me, you useless piece of trash. When the Doyles inevitably discover the truth and come seeking their money back, you are going to physically repay them from your own pockets! Do you hear me?"

Kaelen dispassionately refused the demand. "I didn't explicitly ask for the money. And I haven't spent a single dime of it. Why should I be the one to pay it back?"

Martha's face twisted in uncontrollable rage. Her voice rose to a shrill scream. "Do you honestly think you are a miracle doctor? How dare you talk back to me! You manipulative good-for-nothing! You let me take that money knowing full well they'd want it back! So what if I spent that money? The Doyles will only look for you when they want their cash returned! You only know how to rely on scamming people!"

Brielle couldn't physically stomach her mother's unreasonable scorn any longer. The chaotic pressure in the room reached a boiling point, and she finally snapped. She pushed her chair back, the wood scraping loudly against the floor.

"Enough, Mom!" Brielle stood up. Her voice rang through the dining room with absolute finality. "You were the one who selfishly took those funds and spent them all on a designer bag. How can you put Kaelen in such a position? Where is he supposed to find twenty thousand dollars? When the Doyles demand that money, I will personally repay the massive debt myself if you refuse to!"

Martha's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. Then, an explosive tantrum erupted from the older woman. She began crying crocodile tears, her face contorting into a mask of exaggerated agony. Her dramatic wails echoed off the walls as she beat her chest with her manicured fists. "Don't you dare! How dare you revolt against your own mother! Are you taking advantage of the fact that your dad isn't home by treating me this way? I carried you for nine months, and this is how you repay me? Oh, my miserable, impoverished fate! First, I'm cursed with a loser for a husband who can't provide a decent lifestyle, and now my ungrateful daughter is defending her good-for-nothing scammer of a spouse! What did I do to deserve this? I suffer and sacrifice for this family, and I am treated like dirt! You unfilial daughter!"

Displeased and exhausted by the hysterical scene, Brielle abandoned her meager dinner. She didn't say another word. She turned on her heel and stormed upstairs. Her heavy footsteps thudded against the wooden steps. A second later, her bedroom door slammed shut, the heavy impact vibrating through the ceiling and signaling her refusal to engage any further.

Downstairs, the dining room fell into a tense, heavy atmosphere, broken only by Martha's loud, fake sniffles. Kaelen looked down at Brielle's plate. She had barely eaten a single bite of the sparse food. Her body couldn't endure on such an empty stomach.

He cast a displeased, chilling look at Martha.

Martha noticed his shift in attitude and immediately bristled, ready to hurl another round of vile abuse at him. "What are you looking at, you leech? You are just a good-for-nothing feeding off the Vales! What right do you have to look at me like that?"

Kaelen abandoned his usual submissive posture. He didn't lower his head. He didn't weather the abuse in silence. Instead, he locked eyes with her and delivered an icy, predatory stare. It was a look that held the dark, heavy weight of a seasoned killer, a silent promise of violence that instantly stripped the air from the room.

Martha was physically stunned. The older woman found herself paralyzed in her chair. The vile words died in her throat as genuine, primal fear spiked in her veins. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click. She was trapped in the crosshairs of a predator, immobilized by a single glare.

Without uttering a single word, Kaelen broke the eye contact and moved toward the kitchen, leaving Martha shivering in her seat.

In the quiet confines of the kitchen, Kaelen set to work. He quietly prepared a fresh, warm bowl of ramen, adjusting the seasoning of the savory broth until it was perfect. He boiled an egg, slicing it neatly and resting the cooked halves on top of the steaming noodles. Placing the hot ceramic bowl on a small wooden tray, he walked out of the kitchen, ascended the stairs, and approached Brielle's bedroom door.

He raised his knuckle and knocked.

"What is it?" Brielle's voice sounded muffled and tense from inside.

"I noticed you didn't have an appetite earlier," Kaelen said softly through the wood. "I brought you a bowl of warm ramen."

The lock clicked, and Brielle aggressively pulled the door open, not bothering to check her appearance beforehand. She was wearing unbuttoned, baggy pajamas. In her haste to confront him, the loose fabric shifted widely as she yanked the door open. The aggressive motion inadvertently exposed a large, pale section of her fair chest and her upper breasts directly to his gaze.

Kaelen stood there, the wooden tray in his hands, freezing in his tracks. His eyes inadvertently caught the explicit sight of her exposed flesh. The soft, pale skin of her chest and the curve of her upper breasts were bare and vulnerable under the warm hallway light, laid bare by the unfastened buttons of her sleepwear. The sight was a stark contrast to her usual guarded demeanor, bringing a sudden, quiet intimacy to the tense hallway.

Brielle was initially caught off guard, a brief moment of silent vulnerability passing between them. She was subtly touched by his thoughtfulness in bringing her a hot meal when she was hungry and stressed from her mother's insane behavior. But as she noticed the exact direction of his gaze and felt the cool air against her bare skin, she realized her stark state of undress.

Her deep-seated frustration quickly flared back to life, erasing any trace of gratitude. She clutched her loose clothes tightly to her body, her knuckles turning white as she hastily covered her chest and upper breasts. Her face flushed with a furious, burning heat.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped loudly, her voice echoing in the hallway.

She angrily scolded him, her disappointment boiling over into blind rage as she stared at the bowl of noodles. "You are indeed a useless man! Why can't you find something meaningful to do? Is this what you plan to do forever? You coward! You waste your entire life in the kitchen cooking noodles instead of going out to find a real job! I would respect you more even if you worked a humiliating, low-paying labor gig carrying bricks at a construction site. At least you'd be bringing in a few hundred dollars and showing some backbone! But look at you! What do you have? You have nothing but empty promises and bowls of soup! You bring shame to this household!"

Kaelen remained unbothered by her explosive fury. The biting insults washed over him without leaving a mark. He didn't look away or lower his head in shame. Instead, he looked directly at her flushed, gorgeous face. For a brief second, a rare, genuine hint of masculine tenderness softened his usually stoic features. He saw past her anger, recognizing the heavy burden she carried for her family.

"I know I didn't live up to your expectations and always embarrassed you in the past," he said. His tone was flat, yet it carried an immense, underlying weight that forced her to listen.

He took a slow step back, holding the tray out slightly.

"However, I fear you will find me too flashy from now on."