Chapter 22
Lucinda and Tamsin walked out of the auction hall. Just as they descended the steps, they ran straight into two people.
Gemma and Preston.
They stood at the entrance, both looking sour.
Gemma's hand clutched her purse so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Preston stood beside her, his brow furrowed deep enough to trap a fly.
They'd come to the auction today hoping to score Vortexal or Solsticex.
Instead, Vortexal had been snatched up for a hundred and twenty million dollars, and Solsticex had been completely bought out by the Lancaster family for three hundred million per pill.
They'd raised their paddles a few times, but couldn't even match a fraction of those bids. All they could do was sit there and watch the whole thing unfold like losers. Now they were seething with nowhere to vent.
Then Gemma spotted Lucinda.
Her eyes widened instantly as she looked Lucinda up and down.
White knit sweater, black slacks, flats. Just as shabby as when she'd arrived.
Gemma's lips curled into a cruel arc, her voice rising several octaves. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the ungrateful wretch the Wipere family raised for twenty years. What's the matter? Couldn't make it on your own after leaving the Wiperes, so now you're working janitorial at auction houses?"
Preston stood beside her, silent, but his gaze held the same disdain.
Lucinda stopped in her tracks. Her eyes settled on them coolly, and she said nothing.
Seeing her silent like that only emboldened Gemma further. She stepped forward, her voice shrill. "I knew it. People from trashy backgrounds like yours never amount to anything. Dressed like that, I bet you couldn't even get through the auction house doors, could you? I mean, at least when you were with the Wipere family, you had food and clothes. And now? You're just an embarrassment."
Tamsin's expression darkened. She was about to speak when Lucinda raised a hand to stop her.
Lucinda glanced at Gemma once—a look so detached it was like watching a clown perform.
She turned to leave.
Gemma's fury flared at that single glance. She lunged forward and grabbed Lucinda's wrist. "Stop right there! I'm not done talking! Listen up—Allegra's situation isn't over. You better go to the police station, clear things up, and get Allegra out—"
Lucinda looked down at her wrist, then lifted her eyes. Her voice went cold. "If you keep harassing me, your daughter won't be getting out."
Gemma's hand froze.
Lucinda twisted her wrist lightly, slipping free with ease, and turned to go.
Gemma stood there, her face ugly with rage.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Allegra was locked up and couldn't be released. Without Allegra, her lucky charm, Gemma's condition had started deteriorating again. Today she'd come to the auction hoping to buy medicine, but couldn't afford any of it. Nothing was going right.
And now even this bitch she'd thrown out of the house dared to look down on her?
A wicked rage surged through Gemma's head.
She charged forward, reaching out to shove Lucinda's back.
Lucinda sensed the movement behind her and was about to sidestep when a hand suddenly reached out from the side, gripping her arm firmly and pulling her toward him.
She was drawn into a warm embrace.
Her nose collided with a hard, solid chest that carried the faint scent of pine.
She looked up and met a pair of deep, penetrating eyes.
Reginald stood before her, one hand shielding her back, the other blocking the space between her and Gemma.
The fabric of his coat was cool, but the warmth of his palm seeped through her clothes, carrying a quiet, powerful strength.
Gemma's hand hung frozen in midair. The force of Reginald's block sent a numb shock through her wrist.
She staggered back a step. When she looked up and saw the commanding presence of the man before her, every curse word she'd been about to hurl stuck in her throat.
Reginald didn't look at her.
He looked down at Lucinda in his arms. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, confirming she was unharmed, before he released her.
Lucinda steadied herself. The warmth on her face lasted only an instant before fading.
She turned around, her gaze settling coldly on Gemma.
Gemma still stood there, staring at Reginald's frosty, indifferent face. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
Preston's face had gone white.
He recognized the man.
Reginald.
The world's richest man.
When had his adopted daughter—the one he'd thrown out—gotten involved with someone from the Lancaster family?
Lucinda's expression darkened. She took half a step toward Preston. "If I remember correctly, the Wipere family's project approval documents for that development south of the city last year—you'd better go home and check if there are any loopholes."
Gemma's pupils shrank sharply.
"And those shady transactions your husband's company has been hiding? I have copies of those, too. If you keep causing trouble, I won't hesitate to hand everything over to the proper authorities."
Gemma's face went deathly pale.
Her mouth opened as if to say something, but her throat felt strangled. Not a single word came out.
Preston stood beside her, his expression shifting. He grabbed his wife's sleeve and lowered his voice. "Let's go."
Gemma glared at Lucinda with unwilling fury, but the fear in her eyes overpowered her anger.
Preston pulled her back. She stumbled a few steps, her lips trembling, but in the end, she didn't dare say another word.
The two turned and hurried away, their retreating figures looking like they were fleeing.
Tamsin stood to the side, watching in stunned silence. She leaned over and whispered, "Lucinda, do you really have all that stuff?"
Lucinda didn't answer. She turned and headed toward the parking lot.
She'd barely taken two steps when Reginald's voice came from behind her.
"Ms. Wipere."
She stopped and turned around.
Reginald was holding his phone, his brow slightly furrowed. That eternally cold, impassive expression of his had cracked just a little.
"Wait a moment," he said to Lucinda, then brought the phone back to his ear. "Uncle Barney, slow down."
On the other end of the line, Barney's voice was urgent, almost breaking. "Reginald, your father just took a turn for the worse! His heart rate's plummeting, his blood pressure's dropping—the doctors say it's acute heart failure. That girl from the nursing home—the one who saved me—your father's medicine came from her! You need to contact her now. She's the only one who can save him!"
Reginald's frown deepened. "Uncle Barney, are you saying—"
"Yes! Her! Your father was getting better after taking the medicine she prescribed, but out of nowhere, he just… Reginald, you need to find her! Didn't you get her contact information last time?"
Reginald's gaze landed on Lucinda.
She stood a few steps away, watching him, her expression calm, as if waiting for him to finish his call.
"Uncle Barney," he said, lowering his voice. "She's right next to me."
"Then what are you waiting for?! Bring her here! Your father's dying—"