The Tyrannical Wolf King's Contract Bride-Chapter 75: Going to Sea by Yacht

Lila’s POV

Zoe’s smile was as bright as the midday sun, casting itself without a shadow upon Martha and Lilith. "Mrs. Thorne! Lilith! You both look so beautiful today, I can’t take my eyes off you!"

Lilith immediately lifted her chin, her smile instantly blossoming even more radiantly. "Thank you, Zoe! I think so too."

"Especially this dress," Zoe said, tilting her head with a smile, her gaze burning as it landed on Lilith. "The cut is just divine—the way the waistline is cinched so cleanly, it really makes it hard to look away." She paused, her fingertip gesturing toward the ruby studs on Lilith’s earlobes. "And these earrings, they’re like little flames, so fiery they make your heart pound."

Flushed with the praise, Lilith’s face lit up and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. She subconsciously raised a hand to touch her earrings. "Mom picked them out! She said this color suits me perfectly!"

"Oh?" Zoe’s smile deepened as she turned to Martha, her gaze clear and open, like a pool of perfectly pure spring water. "Mrs. Thorne, you have such wonderful taste. Standing together, you and Lilith look more like sisters than mother and daughter."

A flicker of faint satisfaction crossed Martha’s eyes, but it was quickly masked by an even softer smile. "I so enjoy being around you young people. It feels as if there’s no generation gap between us at all." She paused, her gaze shifting to the enormous, gilded name on the yacht’s bow, her voice taking on a perfectly measured, soft, and inquisitive tone. "Speaking of which... I’m a bit curious. Where did the name ’Mommy’ come from? Does it... have something to do with your mother?"

’Here it comes.’

I held my breath.

Zoe’s smile didn’t falter in the slightest, but her eyelashes lowered, casting a small shadow beneath her eyes. She was silent for two seconds—just long enough for the air to grow still and for Lilith to subconsciously tighten her grip on her mother’s arm.

Then, she looked up. Her smile was as radiant as ever, but her voice was like shards of glass dipped in honey—sweet and sharp:

"Never met her."

Three words, light as air, landed with a thud in the sea breeze.

Lilith’s expression froze. And for the first time, a trace of awkwardness appeared on Martha’s face.

But Zoe acted as if she hadn’t noticed, still smiling, her tone so light it was almost naive. "Jasper told me she left not long after I was born. No one knows where she went, and no one dares to bring her up." She shrugged, the gesture effortless. "So, you see, the ’Mommy’... it’s a dream I built for myself." She pointed toward the bow. "Look, isn’t she beautiful? So powerful? So... omnipotent? Just like the mom I imagine."

She suddenly turned her head, her gaze fixed directly on Lilith, her eyes shining with a sincerity that was almost scorching. "Lilith, you’re so lucky. To have a mother like Mrs. Thorne—gentle, wise, and who always knows exactly when to pick out the perfect dress to make you the star of the show."

Struck by this sudden, blatant flattery, Lilith lit up as if a current had been shot through her, glowing from her fingertips to the ends of her hair. She subconsciously straightened her back, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Yes! My mom knows everything! She even plans out what socks I should wear a week in advance!"

Martha finally smiled. This time, the smile truly reached her eyes, like the first thaw of spring. She raised a hand and gently patted the back of Lilith’s hand, an intimate gesture full of an elder’s indulgence toward the young. "Lilith, you silly girl..." She paused, her gaze shifting between me and Zoe before finally settling back on Zoe’s face, her voice as warm and steady as the earth. "You, just like Lila, are like a daughter to me. In the future, if you ever miss a mother’s cooking, just come to our home for a meal. The doors of the Thorne Family will always be open for you."

—’"Like a daughter to me." What a line.’

’With just one casual phrase, she closed the distance with Zoe and, at the same time, subtly lumped me, her "niece by blood," into the very same camp.’

"Thank you, Mrs. Thorne." Zoe’s voice was loud and sincere, like a church bell. "I’ll be sure to visit often!"

Before her words had even faded, Martha had already turned to me. Her gaze fell upon my face again, and the gentle mist in her eyes seemed to part slightly, revealing a harder substance underneath. "Lila, you too." She gave a small smile, one that held an unquestionable, motherly authority. "Your aunt will be waiting for you."

————

The moment the ’Mommy’ set sail, the entire yacht let out a deep, powerful hum, like a long-slumbering beast slowly stretching its limbs on the azure surface of the sea.

The hull shuddered slightly, then glided smoothly into the water. The deck tilted for a moment, and suddenly the sea breeze became vast, crisp, and charged with a briny, vibrant life force. It rushed over us, sending clothes and hair flying wildly.

I stood on the observation deck at the stern, my hands resting on the cold stainless-steel railing. Below me, the familiar, solemn outline of Jade Sea Bay, delineated by red carpets and security guards, was slowly receding, becoming a hazy gray line on the horizon. Ahead lay an endless expanse of blue stretching to the edge of the sky—the sunlight shattered into a billion pieces of leaping silver foil on the water’s surface, churning, rising, and silently falling with the waves split by the bow.

Behind me was another world entirely.

A champagne tower refracted the midday sun into tiny, brilliant specks of light, like a small mountain built from liquid diamonds. Fine beads of condensation clung to the rims of the crystal glasses, creating rainbow-colored halos in the light. Young people gathered in small groups around the deck, their laughter crisp and their voices light, filled with a kind of relaxation so unweathered by the world it felt like a luxury in itself.

They were the "friends" Zoe had invited.

Not the middle-aged industrialists from the Goodrich family’s dinner parties, dressed in sharp suits with hidden barbs in their pleasantries. Nor the calculating, nouveau-riche members of the Thorne Family’s social circle, for whom resource exchange was the only language.

These were true "second-generation rich"—their family names alone were an all-access pass that needed no verification.

A young man in a white linen suit was leaning against the ship’s rail, using the gears of an antique pocket watch to demonstrate tidal forces to the girl beside him. Two girls with high ponytails sat under a parasol, sipping pink cocktails and gesturing at a tablet, debating whether the angle of their latest yacht photo needed a filter before posting it to Instagram. A few others were gathered around the door to the captain’s cabin, listening with rapt attention as the captain, his temples frosted with gray, explained the ’Mommy’s’ power system, their eyes shining with a pure, unadulterated admiration for raw power and precision engineering.

The topics they discussed were art funds, the ecological restoration of private islands, the latest structures for family trusts... Not a single word about "survival," not a hint of "social climbing." Their world had long since moved past the anxiety of "how to get a foothold" and entered directly into the realm of "how to define the rules."

But at this moment, standing at the stern of the ’Mommy’ and looking out at this near-vacuum of a paradise built from wealth, bloodlines, and absolute security, I felt nothing. I let my thoughts race, unchecked—

’Yes, I miss Jasper. I miss him a lot.’

’I even think I can hear his footsteps...’