Chapter 181
In the dining room, the dishes had already been served.
Valencia was adding food to Lucinda's bowl. Wesley sat at the head of the table, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Cindy, about your grandmother... the doctor called again today."
His voice was low. "He said the situation still isn't optimistic. A few days ago, she was moved back into the ICU. We didn't want to tell you too much—we didn't want you to worry."
Lucinda's utensils paused mid-air.
She looked up at Valencia. Valencia's eyes were already red. She lowered her head and pressed a tissue to the corners of her eyes.
"Mom, what's going on exactly?" Lucinda set down her utensils, her tone more serious. "How bad is Grandma's condition?"
Valencia sniffled, her voice trembling. "Your grandmother's health has never been good. Over the years, she's been hospitalized several times. Recently, it got worse again. The doctor said... if we can't stabilize her this time, she might..."
She didn't finish, but the air at the table had already grown heavy.
Lucinda said nothing. She simply lowered her eyes, her gaze darkening.
This grandmother—she'd never met her.
She'd been lost when she was too young, not even a year old. She had no memory of what Valencia's mother looked like.
Later, after being taken in by the Wipere family, she'd spent twenty years not even knowing who her real relatives were.
Now that she'd returned to the Douglas family, her biological grandmother lay in the Douglas family's hospital, her life hanging by a thread—and she, as her granddaughter, had never even visited her once.
"You don't need to worry about your grandmother." Manuel's voice came from across the table. "I've had people keeping watch at the hospital. Her condition isn't great, but for now, it's stable."
He paused, his gaze landing on Lucinda's face. "I happen to be free tomorrow. I'll go with you to see her."
Lucinda looked up and met Manuel's concerned eyes. She nodded. "Okay."
Dahlia sat at the far end of the table, the bowl in front of her barely touched.
She kept her head down, her utensils pushing the food around in her bowl. From the moment Wesley mentioned Grandma's condition, her ears had perked up.
The Douglas family's grandmother—Valencia's biological mother, Orla.
Of course she'd met her. Orla had been hospitalized on and off over the years, and every time Valencia went to visit, she'd brought Dahlia along.
Dahlia had always been sweet-tongued and good at coaxing people. Though Orla's health was poor, every time she saw Dahlia, she'd smile and hold her hand, praising her for being obedient and sensible.
In the past, Dahlia had never thought the old woman was of any use—elderly, frail, unable to do anything but lie in bed.
But now...
Dahlia's gaze flickered slightly.
If something happened to Orla while Lucinda was visiting—if Lucinda's presence upset the old woman and caused her condition to worsen—
Then Lucinda would be the one to blame.
Valencia and Wesley might favor her now, but Dahlia knew better than anyone how much Valencia loved her own mother.
Once something happened to Orla, no one would be able to excuse Lucinda.
At the thought, Dahlia gently set down her utensils and looked up, her face wearing a perfectly obedient smile.
"Dad, Mom, I'd like to visit Grandma too."
Her voice was gentle. "Grandma always liked me the most. Every time I visited, she'd hold my hand and talk to me. She's been unwell lately, and I'm really worried. I want to keep her company."
At this, her voice softened even more. "I won't cause any trouble. I just want to keep Grandma company. She's lying in the hospital all alone—I'm sure she'd like someone to talk to."
Valencia glanced at her, her expression clearly moved.
Wesley picked up his teacup and took a sip, saying nothing.
Manuel looked up at her briefly, his gaze indifferent. He didn't nod, but he didn't refuse either.
Dahlia took that as tacit approval.
She lowered her head, her lips curving slightly.
The arc was fleeting—so quick that no one noticed.
She kept her head down, continuing to push the food around in her bowl, pressing down the emotions churning in her eyes bit by bit.
The next morning, just as dawn broke, a black Maybach was already parked at the entrance of the Douglas Estate.
Reginald leaned against the car door, holding an insulated bag, the corner of his dark gray coat lifted by the morning breeze.
He heard footsteps from the entrance hall and looked up. Seeing Lucinda walk out, the light in his eyes brightened instantly.
"Morning." He walked up to her and handed her the insulated bag. "I brought you breakfast. Eat it while it's hot."
Lucinda reached out to take it, but before she could say anything, another figure emerged from the door behind her.
Manuel wore a dark blue trench coat and stopped beside Lucinda.
His gaze landed on Reginald's face, and he spoke flatly. "Mr. Lancaster, this early?"
Reginald nodded slightly. "Manuel, I'm here to pick up Lucinda for work."
"Manuel?" Manuel's brow twitched slightly. "Mr. Lancaster, don't call me that."
His voice was unhurried. "We're not that familiar. You can call me Mr. Douglas."
Reginald looked at him, his gaze unwavering. "Manuel, I'm Lucinda's fiancé."
"That still doesn't work." Manuel took half a step forward and gently pulled Lucinda closer to his side. "She's my sister. I'll take her myself. No need to trouble Mr. Lancaster."
Reginald remained where he stood, still holding the insulated bag, his tone unyielding. "It's the same if I take her."
"You take her? Where were you last night?" Manuel's gaze darkened slightly. "She came home alone in a cab last night. Where were you?"
Reginald's fingers paused slightly. The flash of discomfort was suppressed quickly, but Lucinda still caught it.
He'd had an emergency meeting last night that ran from nine p.m. until two in the morning. By the time it ended, he'd already missed the window to pick her up.
"I had something come up last night." Reginald's voice lowered, carrying a trace of apology. "It won't happen again."
"Again?" Manuel let out a laugh, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Lancaster, save those words for yourself."
He turned his head to look at Lucinda, his voice softening considerably. "Cindy, let's go. I'll take you."
Lucinda stood between the two of them—her brother on the left, her fiancé on the right. One was holding her arm, the other blocking her path.
She glanced down at the insulated bag in Reginald's hand, then looked up at Manuel's face, which clearly read, "There's no way I'm letting you leave with him today." She was silent for two seconds.
"If you two keep arguing, I'm going to be late."
Both men fell silent at the same time.
Reginald moved first.
He placed the insulated bag in Lucinda's hands, then took a step forward and stood directly in front of Manuel.
The two men stood face-to-face—one tall and imposing, the other composed and steady. The air tightened slightly.
"Manuel." Reginald's voice was resolute. "I will protect her with my life. If I ever make her sad, you can come and take my life anytime."
He said it with conviction, as if the words had been weighing on his heart for a long time.
Manuel looked at him, his gaze moving from his eyes to his brow, then from his brow to his jawline.
After a long moment, the coldness at the corner of his mouth slowly faded.
He reached out and patted Reginald's shoulder twice. "Remember what you said today."
He withdrew his hand and glanced at Lucinda. "Let's go."
Lucinda looked at him, then at Reginald. Her feet moved, and she walked toward Reginald.
Manuel stood in place, watching that slender figure settle into the passenger seat, watching Reginald close the door, circle around to the driver's seat, and start the car.
His hands in his trench coat pockets, he watched the black Maybach drive out of the estate gates before finally withdrawing his gaze.
He turned and took two steps back toward the house, then suddenly stopped and glanced toward the porch.
Dahlia was standing in the shadows of the porch, watching the retreating car. Her expression was hidden in the darkness, impossible to read clearly.
Manuel withdrew his gaze, said nothing, and walked back inside.