MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Chapter 163: The shelly castle (Bonus chapter)

As Damien led the way to the entrance of the grand castle, its towering spires reaching towards the darkened sky, a sense of foreboding settled over Rose like a heavy shroud. Above them, a flag fluttered in the brisk night breeze, its colors vivid against the backdrop of the star-studded heavens.

The flag bore the emblem of a noble family, a symbol that had been etched into Rose's memory since childhood. A silver crescent moon, its edges sharp and gleaming, soared against a field of deep crimson, the color of fresh blood. Surrounding the moon were intricate patterns of swirling vines and thorns, weaving a tapestry of ancient power and lineage. This was the Shelly bloodline emblem.

"Shouldn't we at least go see your family first? Why are we here?" Rose's voice held a note of uncertainty as she gazed up at the imposing facade of the castle, her heart heavy with memories of days long past.

Damien's gaze hardened at Rose's question, his jaw set in a firm line as he turned to face her. The flickering torchlight at the entrance cast deep shadows across his features, lending an air of stern determination to his demeanor.

"We are here on business, Rose. You of all people should know what that means," he replied curtly, his voice carrying a steely edge. "Sentimentality has no place in the affairs of the council. My presence is required, and you will accompany me as my consort."

There was a palpable tension in the air as Damien's words hung between them, the weight of his authority pressing down upon Rose like a leaden cloak.

She knew better than to challenge him further, understanding that in the world of vampires, power and ambition ruled above all else. With a resigned nod, she fell into step beside him, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead within the hallowed halls of the Shelly castle.

The sight of the Shelly castle, once a bastion of safety and familiarity, now filled her with a sense of unease and betrayal. She couldn't shake the feeling that returning here would only unearth long-buried secrets and painful truths, ones she had fought so hard to leave behind.

But with Damien's agenda driving their actions, she had little choice but to follow him into the heart of the castle, where shadows lurked and memories whispered in the darkness.

Rose adjusted the flowing folds of her gown, the rich fabric cascading around her in graceful waves as she moved. Unlike back in the states, where she had to be with a hat or carried umbrellas to shield against the sun's harsh rays, Rose had no need for such accessories. In this realm of perpetual darkness, where the sun rarely graced the sky, there was little use for such mundane protections.

Here, in the heart of vampire territory, the phenomenon known as the polar night effect held sway. It was a natural occurrence, a seasonal phenomenon that plunged the land into months of continuous darkness. For vampires, it was a boon, providing them with the cover of night to roam freely without fear of the sun's lethal touch.

As Rose navigated the grand hall, her movements fluid and graceful, she cast a discerning eye over the assembled crowd. Despite the absence of sunlight, the hall was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, courtesy of the myriad torches and sconces that lined its walls. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the polished marble floors, lending an air of mystique to the proceedings.

Rose carefully adjusted the flowing folds of her gown, the rich fabric serving as both a shield and a disguise. The voluminous layers concealed the telltale swell of her abdomen, a subtle yet vital precaution in preserving the secrecy of her pregnancy.

One false move, one inadvertent slip, and the carefully constructed facade could come crashing down, exposing her most closely guarded secret to the prying eyes of the vampire elite.

She couldn't afford to let anyone know that she carried within her womb a child that defied all logic and reason. A child whose origins remained shrouded in mystery, its existence a testament to the enigmatic bond that had once existed between Rose and Blake, the human who had captured her heart and vanished without a trace.

How a mere mortal could have sired a child with a vampire was a question that haunted Rose's thoughts, a puzzle she had yet to unravel.

But there was little time for introspection or mourning, for fate had thrust her once more into the heart of vampire society, where secrets were currency and alliances were forged in blood.

The events unfolding deprived her of space to completely mourn about the love of her life's disappearance or the where abouts of her baby daddy.

As she stood amidst the opulent grandeur of the royal castle, surrounded by walls steeped in centuries of history, Rose found herself face to face with a figure from her past, a woman whose presence elicited a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation.

The woman, with her porcelain skin and dark hair cascading in waves around her shoulders, exuded an aura of regal poise and authority. Her crimson lips curved into a smile as she addressed Rose, her voice dripping with a mixture of warmth and thinly veiled curiosity.

"Rose, what a delightful surprise," she purred, her gaze lingering on Rose with a knowing intensity.

For a fleeting moment, Rose felt a pang of disappointment that the first person to recognize her was someone she had hoped never to encounter again. But she quickly masked her emotions behind a facade of refined dignity, returning the woman's smile with practiced grace.

"Gladys, you haven't aged a bit," Rose replied, her tone laced with polite civility as she braced herself for the inevitable exchange that would follow.

Damien's false smile tightened at the corners as he watched the exchange between Rose and Gladys, his grip on Rose's arm tightening imperceptibly. With gritted teeth, he interjected, his voice carrying a thinly veiled edge of admonishment.

"Rose, my dear," he said, his tone dripping with restrained irritation, "is that truly the proper way to respond to your own mother's greeting? I would expect a bit more warmth from you, given the circumstances."

Despite the veneer of civility, there was a distinct undercurrent of tension in Damien's words, a silent warning for Rose to tread carefully in the presence of her formidable matriarch.

Rose bristled slightly at the reprimand, but she knew better than to openly defy Damien's expectations, especially not in front of her mother. With a forced smile of her own, she turned back to Gladys, mustering all the practiced grace she could summon for bent with her knees in gesture of respect.

But Gladys intercepted the motion with a raised hand of her own, halting Rose's attempt at a proper greeting.

"It matters little whether you acknowledge me or not, Rose," Gladys interjected, her tone cool and dismissive. "Manners are of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. We all bear the burden of our heritage, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not."

"No one begs feces to have its rotten odor," Gladys continued, her tone sharp and cutting. "Similarly, whether or not you choose to acknowledge me changes nothing. Manners will come when they are deemed necessary, and not a moment sooner."

Rose bit back a retort, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure. She shot Damien a quick glance, silently pleading for patience as they navigated the minefield of her family's politics.

With a tight-lipped smile, Damien nodded in understanding. Him ever r the astute diplomat, sensed the rising tension between Rose and Gladys. With a subtle nod, he gracefully intervened, steering the conversation towards more pressing matters.

"Perhaps it's best we attend to the business at hand," Damien suggested smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We seek audience with the Lord of the house. I trust he is available to receive us?"

Gladys's gaze flickered briefly between Damien and Rose, her expression inscrutable. After a moment's pause, she inclined her head in acquiescence.

"Of course," she replied, her tone clipped and formal. "Lord Marlowe is expecting you. Follow me."

With that, she turned on her heel and led the way into the depths of the castle, leaving Damien and Rose to follow in her wake. As they traversed the echoing corridors of the ancient fortress, Rose couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. Something about her mother's demeanor felt off, and she couldn't shake the sense that trouble lay ahead.

But for now, she pushed aside her misgivings, focusing instead on the task at hand: gaining the support of the powerful Lord Marlowe for Damien's ambitions within the vampire council.