His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker. Chapter 556 Hate

Nicolas opened his mouth again, perhaps to deflect, perhaps to double down.

"Nick," Hazel said again, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Enough."

This ti, there was no room for argunt. Her tone was final, her eyes blazing.

Nicolas glanced at her, then back at Leo. His smirk had faded completely. He picked up his wine glass and took a long, slow drink, saying nothing.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then, very quietly, Leo exhaled.

It was not a sound of release. It was a sound of choice, the conscious decision not to end this man in front of his mother, his father, his wife, Nonna, and sixty feet of glass overlooking a mountain valley.

His hand, which had been resting on the table, moved to cover Bella’s hand, still gripping his arm. His fingers wrapped around hers.

"Oh sorry... we’re late, boss!" Dominique announced, sweeping into the dining hall with Jason trailing behind. "We went to look around. This place is insane. There’s a waterfall a short distance away from the resort."

Jason nodded in agreent, still brushing what looked suspiciously like pine needles off his jacket.

Dom scanned the table, registering the faces, Leo’s controlled stillness, Bella’s quiet composure, Hazel’s electric blue eyes, and then—

Valeria Vale.

Her wine glass stopped halfway to her lips. Her perfect, runway ready posture stiffened. Her pale eyes widened as they locked onto Dom with an intensity that made even him pause mid step.

"Are you... Dominique?" Her voice, usually so smooth and sweet, carried a distinct tremor.

Dom blinked. Then a slow, confident smirk spread across his face. He pulled out an empty chair with deliberate flair and dropped into it like he was accepting a lifeti achievent award.

"Of course," he said lightly. "One and only."

Jason slid into the seat beside him, eyeing Valeria’s reaction with sudden, sharp curiosity.

Nicolas, who had been recovering from his earlier humiliation after Bella spoke against him, raised an eyebrow at his mother. "You know him?"

Valeria set down her glass carefully. Her gaze remained fixed on Dom, studying him, cataloging him, rembering.

"He’s a model," she said, her voice returning to its usual perfect cadence, though her eyes betrayed sothing less composed. "A very distinctive one. I’ve followed his work."

Dom’s smirk widened. He leaned back, arms crossing behind his head.

"She follows my work," he murmured to Jason, clearly delighted.

"I can see that," Jason muttered back.

Nicolas’s expression flickered between confusion and irritation. "A model," he repeated flatly.

"An exceptional model," Valeria corrected, finally tearing her gaze away from Dom to address her son. "His editorial work for Laso Hom was revolutionary. And the campaign he did for Wevan? Iconic."

Dom actually preened.

Nicolas stared at his mother like she had just announced she was joining a circus.

After dinner, the older generation retreated to their private suites, and the younger crowd migrated to the resort’s private bar, a sleek, dimly lit space carved into the stone with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the darkened valley. Low amber lighting. Leather seating. The quiet clink of glasses.

Leo settled into a corner booth, his posture controlled, his back carefully supported. He couldn’t drink, doctor’s orders, still healing, but his presence alone was enough. His gray eyes swept the room with quiet authority, tracking every movent.

Dom slid in across from him. Jason dropped beside him.

"Where are you?" Leo spoke into his phone, his voice flat.

Jay’s voice crackled through the speaker, harried and slightly winded. "Busy, busy, busy. Wedding prep is a nightmare. Hazel keeps changing the flower arrangents. I’ve been demoted to ribbon consultant. Ribbon consultant, Leo. I killed n in three countries and now I’m debating ivory versus champagne satin."

Leo said nothing.

"...I’ll be there tomorrow," Jay finished.

The call ended.

Dom signaled the bartender.

Nicolas, seated alone at the far end of the bar, raised his glass with a lazy smirk. "Put it on my tab," he called out, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Drinks are on tonight."

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. "Free bar?"

"Free everything," Dom corrected, already scanning the cocktail nu with renewed, predatory focus.

Leo watched them both descend into what could only be described as financial warfare against Nicolas’s credit card.

Dom ordered the most expensive cocktail on the nu. Then another. Then a third, this one involving gold leaf and a smoked glass do.

"Does this even have alcohol," Jason asked skeptically, "or am I just drinking expensive air?"

"It has prestige," Dom said solemnly, cradling the ornate glass like a holy relic. "Taste the prestige, Jason."

Jason tasted it. Made a face. Ordered whiskey.

Nicolas, still sprawled in his seat with his thighs spread wide and his wine swirling lazily, didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his tab was rapidly approaching the GDP of a small nation. His attention had drifted across the room to where a group of won sat near the windows.

Bella was among them, seated beside Hazel and Rika, her profile soft in the low light, her laugh a quiet, warm sound as she listened to sothing a girl sitting beside her said.

Nicolas’s eyes traced the curve of her smile.

Leo saw it.

His hand, resting on the table, went very still.

Dom saw it too. His grip on his gold leaf cocktail tightened.

"All I want," Dom muttered, his voice low and vicious, "is to pack him in a sack and throw him off the cliff."

His glare locked onto Nicolas, sharp and unrelenting. The playful energy from earlier had evaporated, replaced by sothing genuinely hostile. His fingers were white around the glass.

"I agree," Leo said, his tone dropping dangerously low.

His gaze didn’t move from Nicolas.

Jason glanced between them. "Okay, you two are officially terrifying to be seated between."

Neither of them responded. Both of them continued staring at Nicolas like they were ntally asuring him for a cliff shaped coffin.

Nicolas, completely oblivious, took another slow sip of his wine and smiled at the won across the room.

Dom’s eye twitched.

"I hate him," he said. "I hate his smug face. I hate his hair. I hate the way he breathes."

"That’s a lot of hate," Jason noted.

"He’s earned it."

Across the table, Leo’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His gaze remained fixed on Nicolas, cold and dark.