Chapter 202
5:07 AM.
At 7:15 AM, the alarm went off.
Lucinda opened her eyes. Daylight leaked through the gaps in the curtains, falling across the foot of the bed.
She lay there for two seconds, then sat up, rubbed her eyes, and went to the bathroom to wash up.
The face in the mirror carried a hint of sleep-deprived weariness, a faint shadow beneath her eyes.
She bent down, splashed cold water on her face, changed clothes, and headed downstairs.
The living room was quiet. Valencia and Wesley weren't around—they probably hadn't gotten up yet.
She crossed the foyer to the entrance, changed her shoes, and pushed open the door. The morning breeze carried the sweet fragrance of osmanthus from the garden.
Then she saw the black Maybach.
Reginald stood in the morning light, holding a paper bag. Backlit, his silhouette was edged in pale gold.
Lucinda looked at him. The corner of her mouth curved unconsciously. Her steps quickened slightly as she descended the stairs and walked toward him.
When he saw her coming, he stepped forward to meet her halfway and naturally reached out to take her hand.
"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked.
"Not bad." Lucinda glanced down at their clasped hands, then looked back up at him. "What about you? Did you finish your work?"
"I did." His tone carried a hint of undisguised pride. "Didn't leave a single thing undone."
Lucinda smiled without saying anything. He led her toward the car, their hands still joined.
He opened the rear door and placed the paper bag on the seat, then turned slightly, bending his head to look at her. "Get in first. Eat breakfast while it's still hot."
Lucinda nodded, bent down, and got into the car. He closed the door for her and was about to walk around to the other side when—
The villa's front door was suddenly shoved open.
"Cindy!"
Milton burst out of the foyer.
His hair was a mess, like he'd been hit by a tornado in the middle of the night. Dark circles hung under his eyes. He wore pajama bottoms, and the slippers on his feet didn't even match.
One blue. One gray.
He rushed to the car and immediately spotted Reginald's hand—the one that had just been holding his sister's.
Milton's eyes widened like saucers. He charged over in two strides and grabbed Reginald's arm. "What are you doing? Where are you putting your hands? Let go of her!"
Reginald swayed slightly from the pull. Seeing it was Milton, he smiled. "Milton, good morning."
"Why are you calling me Milton so casually?" Milton's voice shot up a full octave. He pointed a finger at Reginald's nose. "I'm warning you—stay away from my sister! How old is she this year? You—you old man—stay away from my sister!"
Reginald's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. "I'm only six years older than Lucinda."
"Six years!" Milton seized on this as if he'd found damning evidence. His voice rose even higher. "Six years isn't a lot? When she was in elementary school, you were already in middle school! When she was watching cartoons, you were already dating!"
In the passenger seat, Lucinda paused mid-bite of her sandwich.
She turned her head and looked through the window at her second brother—hair standing on end like a bird's nest, righteously accusing Reginald. She nearly choked.
Reginald, on the other hand, remained composed. He shifted slightly, blocking the passenger door, his tone still calm. "Milton, Lucinda hasn't finished breakfast yet. Let her eat first. We can talk about anything afterward."
Milton froze, then glanced down into the car.
Lucinda was holding a sandwich, her cheeks puffed out, a bit of sauce at the corner of her mouth. She looked at him innocently.
His fire visibly deflated, but he still stubbornly stuck his neck out. "She—she can eat at home! She doesn't need to eat food from some outsider!"
"Milton, I'm not an outsider." Reginald's tone was patient. "I'm Lucinda's fiancé. Your parents have already agreed. Your older brother knows too. By all rights, you're my second brother."
Milton's mouth dropped open. It stayed that way for a long time.
He stood frozen in place, then turned to look at Lucinda. His voice suddenly wavered. "Cindy… is what he's saying true? Mom, Dad, and Manuel all know?"
Lucinda swallowed the bite in her mouth and nodded. "Yes."
Milton's expression looked like someone had kicked him in the face.
He stood there, pointing at Reginald, then at Lucinda, then back at Reginald. He couldn't squeeze out a complete sentence. "You two—you… she just came back. I haven't even… she hasn't even…"
Reginald looked at his incoherent state and added, "Milton, I'll treat her well."
"That's not for you to say!" Milton finally found his voice. He bristled like an angry cat. "Do you know whose sister she is? She's my sister—Milton's sister! You think you can just take her away? Did you even ask if I agreed?"
He tried to move around to the passenger side. Reginald took one step forward and blocked him squarely. "Milton, Lucinda said she's willing to go with me."
Milton's mouth opened even wider. He peered over Reginald's shoulder into the car. Lucinda was unwrapping a carton of milk, completely unbothered, as if she had no intention of participating in this dispute.
"Cindy—" His voice took on a note of grievance. "You're really going with him? You won't even have breakfast with me? Last night—last night I was planning to take you to that breakfast place in the south part of the city. Their shrimp pancakes are amazing. I already made a reservation…"
Lucinda looked up at him. A bit of oil still clung to the corner of her mouth. "Milton, I'll be back tonight. I'll go with you tomorrow."
Milton stood in the morning breeze, completely petrified.
After a long pause, he sighed, as if reluctantly accepting reality. "Fine."
His voice was muffled. "Then… come back early tonight."
Reginald nodded at him, got into the car, and signaled the driver to go.
The car slowly pulled out of the estate gates. Milton stood in place, watching it disappear at the end of the tree-lined road. He sighed again.
In the shadows of the foyer, Dahlia had watched the entire scene from start to finish.
Her fists clenched tightly.
Milton had never been this frantic over anything. He'd never run out without even bothering to put on matching shoes—for her.
But just now, for Lucinda, he'd thrown everything aside.
Dahlia's nails dug into the doorframe. The pain shot through her fingers, numbing them.
She took a deep breath, swallowed the sour bitterness rising in her throat, and put on an obedient smile. She stepped out of the shadows.
"Milton…" She hurried after him, her tone warm. "Why are you standing here in a daze? The weather's so nice today. Let's go to the amusement park! That new roller coaster everyone's talking about is supposed to be amazing. I haven't been in so long. Will you come with me?"
Milton, who'd been trudging back with his head down, stopped at the sound of her voice. He turned his head and glanced at her.
"No thanks."
His voice was listless, utterly different from how he'd been with Lucinda.