Chapter 210
The auctioneer's voice resumed, but Lucinda could feel lingering glances drifting her way from around the room.
She lowered her head and continued flipping through the catalog, catching a glimpse of Reginald beside her out of the corner of her eye.
He was turned slightly toward her, his gaze resting on her, the faint curve at his lips never fading since the moment Isaac had dropped to his knees.
She looked away, exasperated.
The Ms. L identity—she hadn't intended to reveal it in a setting like this.
Isaac had dropped to his knees so fast she hadn't even had time to stop him.
"Interesting." Reginald's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Ms. L."
"Stop calling me that." She covered her face, closed the catalog, and stood. "Let's go. There's nothing left worth seeing."
Reginald nodded and stood as well, his hand naturally reaching out to take hers.
Eyes followed their backs all the way to the door as they walked side by side into the hallway.
Reginald's fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of her hand. "When did you invest in the Neville family?"
"Several years ago." Lucinda's tone was casual. "Isaac was just starting out back then. He went around asking, but no one would invest. I thought the project direction looked decent, so I put in five million. He built it up himself after that. I didn't really manage it."
"Five million dollars." Reginald repeated the figure, looking down at her. "Given the Neville family's current scale, that five million has multiplied at least a hundred times over."
"Just luck."
She said it lightly, but Reginald's grip on her hand tightened.
He didn't press further. He simply walked beside her, his pace deliberately slow, as if matching her stride.
When the car pulled up in front of the Douglas Estate, night had fully fallen.
Lucinda pushed open the door. Before she could step out, she noticed the lights on under the portico and a figure leaning against one of the columns, head down, phone in hand, as if waiting for someone.
At the sound of the car, the figure looked up. Milton hurried over, nearly dropping his phone.
"Cindy!" His voice carried palpable relief as he reached her in a few quick strides, looking her up and down.
Once he'd confirmed she was unharmed, he let out a breath. "Why so late? I've been waiting forever."
Lucinda noticed the faint shadows under his eyes. "You've been waiting outside this whole time?"
"Not the whole time…" Milton's gaze flickered. "I just… came out for some air. Happened to run into you coming back."
Behind him, a servant poked her head out and muttered quietly, "He's been standing here since three this afternoon. No one could get him to go inside."
Milton whipped his head around and glared at her. The servant ducked back inside, pretending she'd said nothing.
He pulled a deep blue velvet box from his pocket and pressed it into Lucinda's hands. "I had something made for you. See if you like it."
Lucinda opened it. Inside lay a brooch.
Silver, shaped like a delicate sprig of osmanthus blossoms. It suited her aesthetic perfectly.
She raised a brow. "Custom-made?"
"Yeah." Milton looked away, his voice a little awkward. "You mentioned last time that the osmanthus tree in the garden smelled nice, so I had someone make this. It wasn't expensive. Just… something I threw together."
Lucinda looked down at the delicate sprig, her fingertip lightly brushing one of the small pearl buds. Then she closed the box and slipped it into her pocket.
She looked up at him, the corner of her mouth curving. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Milton's ears turned visibly red.
He coughed, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how. Finally, he forced out stiffly, "…As long as you like it."
Valencia's voice called from inside. "Is that Cindy?"
Before the words had fully left her mouth, she was already walking out.
She wore a cream-colored loungewear set and held a card in her hand. She hurried over to Lucinda and, without a word, pressed it into her palm. "Take this. Spending money. Your father said you spent five hundred million at the auction today. He's worried you might be tight on cash."
Lucinda glanced down at the card, then back up at Valencia. Before she could say anything, Valencia continued, "Also, your uncle's family is coming back from abroad next Saturday. I've reserved a table at La Perle Blanche. We'll all have a proper family dinner. Your uncle's been wanting to see you for ages. Make sure you come."
"Okay." Lucinda tucked the card away and nodded. "Got it, Mom."
Valencia patted her hand with satisfaction, then glanced at Milton, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Your brother stood outside like a guard all afternoon today. He asked where you went every five minutes. Like he was afraid someone would kidnap you."
Milton turned his head awkwardly. "I just came out for some air…"
"Air for four hours?" Valencia shook her head with a laugh, not calling him out any further. She turned and headed inside. "Alright, come in. Dinner's ready."
Lucinda followed her in. At the threshold, she paused and glanced back.
Reginald still stood by the car, not following. His gaze remained fixed on her.
She waved at him.
Like a large dog receiving a command, Reginald immediately walked over and stopped in front of her, looking down. "Go inside. It's getting cold out here."
"Drive carefully on your way back."
"I will." He nodded but didn't turn to leave. Instead, he reached out and pointed at his own lips.
Milton poked his head out from inside, brows furrowed. "Are you two done yet? Cindy, come inside and wash up. You've been standing around all day. Aren't you tired?"
He stepped forward, positioning himself between Reginald and Lucinda. "Alright, alright, I'll walk you out. Cindy's exhausted today. Let her go rest."
Reginald glanced at him, then looked past him to Lucinda. Finally, faced with Milton's unyielding expression, he took a step back. "See you tomorrow, then."
"See you tomorrow."
Just as the two seemed about to linger again, Milton immediately grabbed Reginald's arm and pulled him along.
His movements were brisk and decisive, his steps quick and urgent, as if afraid his sister might be stared at for one second longer.
When they reached the garden corner, far enough that Lucinda couldn't hear, Milton let go and turned around. His expression immediately soured. "Reginald, don't come looking for Cindy tomorrow."
Reginald paused. "Why not?"
"She's spending the day with me tomorrow." Milton shoved his hands in his pockets, his tone flat and firm. "You had her all day today. Cindy's been back for days, and I haven't even had a single meal alone with her."
Reginald looked at him, silent for a few seconds. Then he pulled out his phone, swiped a couple of times, and turned the screen toward Milton.
On it was a research project collaboration proposal. The project name was followed by a string of numbers that made it impossible to look away.
"The new energy project in the south part of the city. Phase two research funding—the Lancaster Group will cover it in full." He smiled, his tone still steady. "If you're interested in participating, I can arrange for the technical team to coordinate with you."
Milton looked down at the string of numbers on the screen. His mouth twitched.
He bit down hard, as if undergoing an intense internal battle. Finally, with extreme reluctance, he squeezed out through clenched teeth, "…What time are you coming tomorrow?"
"Nine."
"Fine." Milton turned his face away, pretending to look at the garden lights, his voice muffled. "Come pick her up the day after tomorrow."
Reginald's lips curved slightly. "Much appreciated."
Milton snorted and strode back toward the house.
After a few steps, he turned and glared at him again. "If my sister loses even a pound, I won't let you off."
In the night, Reginald stood in place, watching Milton's figure disappear under the portico. He smiled faintly, turned, and got into the car.