Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Griffin dropped Cordelia off at the Sinclair Villa and left.

He didn't ask to come in. She didn't invite him.

The distance between them couldn't shrink any further.

One step closer, and Cordelia would probably lose Griffin as a friend.

They walked in opposite directions. Neither looked back.

Cordelia didn't know that after Griffin drove past the Sinclair Villa gates, he sat in his car for a long time, unmoving.

He had regrets.

He should have married Cordelia the moment she'd turned eighteen. Then Ellington would never have been in the picture.

He'd waited. He'd tried to step aside. He'd tried to fight again. But he couldn't bring himself to take what wasn't freely given—so he would forever remain her second choice. No. The Cordelia of today would never marry someone she didn't love.

Griffin had no chance left. Neither did Ulysses.

The night deepened. A streetlamp stretched the man's shadow long across the pavement as fog crept into the air.

It was late. Time to go.

---

Cordelia didn't head upstairs after walking through the front door.

She hadn't gotten drunk, but she'd had plenty. Her body felt heavy and sluggish the moment she stepped inside. She couldn't muster the energy to climb even one flight of stairs. She collapsed onto the couch, propping her head lazily on a bent hand—looking nothing like the poised heiress she usually was.

She was home. She could let her guard down.

But lying there didn't feel much better. Sleep refused to come.

Vida heard the noise from the kitchen. Seeing Cordelia sprawled across the couch, she assumed something had gone wrong again.

"Oh, sweetheart, that's no way to sleep on a couch… And you've been drinking? Did something happen?"

The moment she got close, the heavy smell of alcohol hit her. She wondered just how much Cordelia had had. She needed to get some hangover soup going right away.

Cordelia opened her eyes at the sound of her voice. They were clear and bright—not a hint of fog in them. But the deep flush across both cheeks was genuinely alarming.

Something wrong? Maybe. But it was all the same old stuff, not worth bringing up again. The drinking had been for a celebration, nothing more.

"Don't worry, Vida. I'm not drunk—just had a little too much. I'll be fine after I rest." Cordelia's brow twitched. She pushed herself upright on the couch. "Where are Mom and Dad? Already in bed?"

It was getting late. Given Jasper and Xanthe's usual routine, they were probably already asleep.

Then it hit her. She'd been so consumed by work lately that she hadn't had a real conversation with her parents in ages.

And tomorrow would bring another hectic day.

Once she transferred to Vogue Vortex headquarters, she'd have even less time with them.

She suddenly felt uncertain.

Was this really what she wanted?

The Sinclair Group was here. Her parents wouldn't be able to follow her abroad. And once she joined Vogue Vortex's headquarters, when she could come home wouldn't be up to her anymore.

Vida noticed the shift in her expression and assumed she was worried about family. "Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Sinclair have already turned in. But speaking of which…"

"What is it?"

Vida hesitated, and Cordelia's concern spiked immediately. "Are Mom and Dad hiding something from me again?"

It seemed like lately her parents had been hit with one thing after another. Her mother had barely gotten out of the hospital before her father was admitted. Her father had been home only a few days before Cordelia herself was hospitalized for the miscarriage.

Compared to chasing love, keeping her family safe mattered most.

Just the thought made Cordelia's voice turn urgent. "Vida, please don't keep anything about my parents from me, okay? I don't want to be the clueless idiot who's always the last to know."

"It's nothing serious, Ms. Sinclair—please don't worry." Vida quickly explained. "It's just that Mr. Sinclair has been out of the hospital for a while now, and he's been thinking about scheduling a follow-up checkup. He just hasn't picked a date yet."

Right. Her father hadn't gone back for a follow-up since his discharge.

And she hadn't even asked how his recovery was going.

In that single moment, the alcohol haze cleared completely.

Cordelia made a mental note. "Thank you for telling me, Vida. I'll take care of it."

Vida's lips moved slightly, and she smiled gently. "Good. Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Sinclair will be so happy to hear that."

Such a small thing—and it would make them happy?

Guilt threatened to swallow Cordelia whole.

Divorced, and she still wasn't fulfilling her duties as a daughter.

---

After resting for a bit, Cordelia went upstairs and stopped outside her parents' bedroom door. She stood there, listening. Not a sound from inside.

They were probably asleep.

She was about to head to her own room when the door opened.

Xanthe tiptoed out. Seeing Cordelia, she showed no surprise whatsoever.

"Mom—"

Cordelia barely got the word out before Xanthe raised a finger to her lips and shook her head. She waited until the door clicked shut behind her before speaking. "Your father just fell asleep. Let's talk in your room."

That single sentence sent Cordelia's mind racing.

'Just fell asleep.' She remembered Jasper had always been healthy—no sleep issues to speak of. Could this be from the car accident?

Once inside Cordelia's bedroom, Xanthe finally let herself relax.

"I haven't seen you around in ages. Finally catch a glimpse of you today, and you reek of alcohol. If your father caught a whiff, you'd never hear the end of it."

Cordelia immediately took a few steps back. "I—I'll go shower first."

"Wait." Xanthe sighed softly. "It's nothing important. Just take your shower and go straight to bed after."

"Ever since the accident, your father's been very weak. Most nights he can't fall asleep before midnight. But don't worry too much—at his age, trouble sleeping is normal."

Each word made Cordelia's heart sink deeper. She couldn't help interrupting. "Mom, has Dad's follow-up been scheduled? I want to go with you."

A long silence followed.

Had she said something wrong?

Cordelia's unease grew. She was terrified her parents were dealing with something serious and still keeping it from her.

"Your father and I are fine. You can rest easy about that. But the one we can't stop worrying about is you."

Xanthe gave her a tender smile.

That kind of smile—Cordelia had to reach far back in her memory to find it. She remembered being sick as a schoolgirl, and her mother wearing that exact expression while comforting her.

Then she'd grown up. She learned to shoulder pain alone, to never tell her family when she was ill.

But her parents didn't worry less just because she stayed silent. Parents always know their children best.

"You don't need to worry about me." Cordelia's voice cracked. "You and Dad are the only people in this world I can't stop worrying about."

The truth was, they were all doing the same thing—thinking of each other, and feeling guilty for never doing enough.

Xanthe seemed to know what Cordelia was about to say. She simply shook her head again.

"Cordelia, go do what you want to do. Don't worry about your father and me. We shouldn't be holding you back, and the Sinclair Group shouldn't be weighing on your mind."

"Vogue Vortex headquarters—that's where you belong."