Chapter 282
Khloe paused.
Nick’s question lingered in the air between them, quiet but heavy enough to change the rhythm of the conversation.
She slowly set down her fork, lifting her gaze to the screen. For a moment, she didn’t answer—just studied him, as if trying to understand what had made him ask that.
Then she spoke.
“Would you ever lie to me?” she asked instead.
Or betray me.
Her tone was calm, but the question was sharp in its simplicity.
Nick didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Not a fraction of doubt. Not even a pause for thought.
“There will never be that day,” he added, voice steady and absolute.
Something in Khloe’s expression eased at that.
A small smile appeared, softening her features.
“Then I won’t either,” she said.
She leaned back slightly, fingers resting loosely near her bowl.
“My ruthlessness isn’t for everyone,” she continued. “Only for those who betray or hurt me.”
Her gaze lifted again, meeting his through the screen.
“But you’re different.”
A quiet pause.
“You’re the one I choose to stand beside—no matter what happens.”
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t embellished.
But coming from her, it carried more weight than any vow.
Nick felt it settle into him immediately—like something long tense inside his chest finally loosening. Warmth spread through him, slow and steady, erasing the fatigue he hadn’t realized he was carrying.
He opened his mouth, but his eyes dropped first—to the bowl in front of her.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
“That’s your dinner?” he asked.
There was no real accusation in it, but the concern was obvious.
“It has no nutritional value.”
Khloe blinked.
And just like that, the atmosphere shifted.
From something intimate and quiet… to something uncomfortably close to parental supervision.
“I don’t need a nutrition lecture,” she said quickly. “I’m fine. I just wanted something simple tonight.”
She picked up her fork again, taking another bite as if to prove her point.
Nick exhaled faintly.
“Once in a while is fine,” he conceded, though his eyes stayed on the bowl like he was memorizing a problem he intended to solve later.
Then, almost to himself, he added, “When I come back, I’ll make sure you eat properly.”
Khloe swallowed and looked at him through the screen.
A smile returned—softer this time, more deliberate.
“Then come back soon,” she said lightly. “To fix my nutrition.”
Her voice lowered slightly, teasing but not entirely joking.
“Without you around, everything I eat feels… incomplete.”
The words slipped out easily, like she hadn’t thought too hard about them.
But they landed heavily on the other end.
Nick went still.
His gaze deepened, the calmness in it tightening into something sharper, restrained.
“Soon,” he said.
His voice had dropped, roughened slightly at the edges.
“Once things here are finished, I’ll return immediately.”
“Mhm.” Khloe stirred her noodles again. “Work first. Don’t overdo it, though. I’ll be waiting.”
Those last words were quiet.
Simple.
Unguarded.
And that was what made them dangerous.
Nick’s grip on the phone tightened slightly.
For a brief moment, he didn’t speak at all.
When he finally did, his voice was lower.
“I know.”
The call continued a little longer after that. Eventually, Lenny’s voice came through offscreen, reporting the next day’s schedule, pulling Nick back into work.
Khloe used the moment to finish her noodles.
When the call naturally paused, she finally stood and went to shower.
Night had fully settled by then.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand, she noticed the phone still on the table—screen lit.
Nick hadn’t hung up.
He was at his desk, reviewing documents under a warm desk lamp. His posture was straight, composed, but there was a subtle looseness to him now, as if he’d refused to end the call even while working.
Khloe stopped for a second.
Then, quietly, she walked over and picked up the phone.
She placed it gently on the vanity nearby, not interrupting him.
Steam still clung faintly to her skin as she began her skincare routine in the mirror’s reflection, the soft glow of the screen still visible behind her—Nick working on the other end, as if he had never truly left.