Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 268

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live**
**by Nora Vale Kingsley**
**Chapter 268: Faking His Injuries**

Emma’s gaze lingered on Marcus, a mixture of curiosity and concern swirling in her chest. “Marcus,” she began, her tone playful yet probing, “what on earth did you do to strike such fear into the hearts of the wolf clan? Did you commit some unspeakable crime against the very heavens?”

Marcus, ever the master of nonchalance, shrugged off her question with a casual wave of his hand, but Emma saw the flicker of something deeper in his eyes. She wasn’t convinced by his feigned innocence—not for a moment.

Before Marcus could muster a coherent response, the Grand Elder made his entrance, guiding Marcus’ father, Maurice, out from the shadows of the dwelling. The sight was alarming; Maurice was swathed in bandages, his complexion a ghostly shade of pale.

Emma’s heart sank as she took in the extent of his injuries. It was clear he had suffered greatly.

The instant Marcus caught sight of his father, he leapt from his chair, urgency propelling him forward. “What on earth happened to you? How could you have gotten hurt so badly?” His voice, once languid and relaxed, now sliced through the air with an alarming sharpness. “Was it the Chitinid?”

Silas stood nearby, equally taken aback. How could Maurice have sustained such severe wounds? He had been meticulously monitoring the situation at Frostveil, and as far as he knew, Maurice had only incurred minor injuries during the skirmish. Silas had even dispatched Beast God Flowers to aid in his recovery long ago. By all accounts, Maurice should have been on the mend by now.

As Marcus’ expression morphed into one of sheer panic, Maurice felt a flicker of comfort. Despite the daily torment that his son often inflicted upon him, it was reassuring to see a glimmer of genuine concern from Marcus.

With the Grand Elder’s support, Maurice coughed softly, attempting to reassure his son. “I’m fine, truly. It may look dire, but with a few days of rest, I’ll be back to my old self.”

He then turned his warm gaze toward Emma, his eyes lighting up. “You must be Emma, the remarkable female I’ve heard so much about. The Grand Elder has spoken highly of you.”

A faint smile graced his lips. “Marcus is indeed fortunate to have found a mate like you.”

“Greetings, Father. I’m Emma Tibarn,” she replied, a hint of warmth in her own voice.

Seeing the extent of Maurice’s injuries, Emma quickly gestured for Marcus to assist him in taking a seat. However, Maurice gently brushed aside Marcus’ outstretched hand.

“It’s quite alright,” he insisted, his voice growing softer, more fragile.

Turning his attention back to Emma, he mustered a gentle smile, though it was tinged with an air of desperation. “Emma, I wholeheartedly welcome you and your companions to Frostveil. However, I’ve heard whispers among my clansmen that your intention is to return Marcus to where he belongs.”

He paused, his expression growing serious. “He’s my only son, Emma. Yes, he can be a handful, but he possesses great strength. In Frostveil, any son who marries outside the clan is never permitted to return. If you take him back, I would be too embarrassed to continue leading the clan. It would leave me with no choice but to abandon Frostveil and wander the lands with him.”

Emma’s instincts kicked in; having feigned illness herself in the past, she recognized the ruse immediately—Maurice was not injured at all. At first, she struggled to comprehend his motives for pretending to be so gravely hurt, but as the pieces fell into place, clarity washed over her. He feared she would indeed return his son.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Emma’s lips. Poor Maurice—having to not only act like a wounded man but also don the mask of a pitiful father.

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