Chapter 3
Gemma pulled a check from her purse and held it out to Lucinda.
"Take it."
The figure was written clearly: thirty million dollars.
"Take the blame for Allegra." Gemma looked at Lucinda with the air of someone bestowing a great favor. "You're going back to that kind of place anyway. What difference does it make whether you confess or not? With this money, you'll never have to worry again for the rest of your life."
As she spoke, her gaze flicked toward Francis, standing beside Lucinda, covered in dust.
Gemma sneered inwardly.
Thirty million dollars—to people as destitute as them, it was probably beyond their wildest dreams.
Once this money landed, wouldn't they grovel in gratitude?
Satisfaction curved her lips.
"Your sister is kindhearted. She doesn't want to see you suffer." Gemma's tone grew increasingly condescending. "Take this money and live well over there. This person next to you is family from your side, right? With thirty million dollars, you'll have crossed class lines."
Lucinda glanced down at the check.
Thirty million dollars.
In twenty years with the Wipere family, the total spent on her came to less than thirty thousand dollars.
Now, for Allegra's sake, they threw out thirty million without blinking.
She said nothing, but her lips curved slightly.
Francis stood beside her, his gaze settling on Gemma's face.
Listening to these words, his brow furrowed.
Thirty million dollars? To dismiss his sister?
He noted Gemma's benefactor posture, then understood.
These twenty years, this family had probably never regarded his sister as human.
Before leaving, their father had asked him to bring gifts for the Wipere family—to repay them for raising his sister.
Now it seemed unnecessary.
Francis stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Lucinda. "Take the check back."
His tone left no room for argument. "My sister isn't someone you can dismiss with this little money."
This little money?
Gemma froze.
She looked down at the check in her hand.
This was thirty million dollars! What did he just say?
This little money?
Francis didn't look at her again. He turned to Lucinda. "Let's go."
Lucinda nodded.
They turned and headed toward the VIP corridor.
Gemma stood rooted in place, clutching the check, her expression ugly.
After they'd walked several steps away, she finally snapped out of it and stared at their retreating backs, mentally spitting.
What an act. Turning down thirty million dollars?
People from dirt-poor families putting on airs!
The VIP corridor was quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing softly against the walls.
Francis walked beside Lucinda, about to speak, when his phone suddenly vibrated.
He glanced at the caller ID, his brow twitching, and answered. "Speak."
The voice on the other end was frantic, nearly breaking. "Mr. Douglas, major emergency! Starship's line 3 pressure just dropped sharply—the main system's completely in the red!"
Francis stopped walking. "What's the current situation?"
"Still dropping! At this rate, we've got forty minutes max before the entire second-stage fuel tank is shot!"
Francis's breathing grew heavy.
The Starship project was the nation's largest deep-space initiative in a decade. If they missed this window, the next one wouldn't come for six months.
He checked the time on his phone, then looked toward the tarmac at the end of the corridor, still lit up.
From here to the base—ninety minutes minimum.
Not enough time.
"Send me the data." His voice was low. "I'll review it on the way. You guys keep trying—"
Halfway through his sentence, a hand reached over.
Lucinda took the phone from him and put it to her ear. "Line 3 corresponds to the second-stage fuel tank."
Her voice was calm. "The pressure anomaly is caused by premature vaporization from excessive preheating. Close the second-stage preheat valve. Keep the bypass valve fully open."
Silence on the other end for a second.
Then came rapid typing sounds mixed with exclamations. "That's… wait, the data's actually moving! The pressure curve is leveling out!"
"It's stabilizing! It's stable!" The voice shot up, excitement nearly cracking it. "Why didn't we think of this method! May I ask how you knew? We've been running simulations internally for three months and couldn't come up with this solution—"
Lucinda didn't answer. She handed the phone back to Francis.
Francis took it, staring at her.
The corridor lights spilled down from overhead, falling on that impossibly calm face.
"How did you know?" His voice dropped low, shock impossible to hide. "Starship's fuel system is classified at the national level. Even internal documentation isn't complete… how could you possibly know?"
Lucinda looked at him. Her lips curved slightly. "Let's go. Aren't we in a hurry?"
She turned and continued toward the end of the corridor.
Francis stood in place, watching that retreating figure.
He suddenly realized his sister was far more complicated than he'd imagined.
At the top of the stairs, the cabin door slowly opened.
Lucinda stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the interior. Leather seats, wooden paneling—even the glasses were crystal.
She sat down with an expression of complete indifference, casually fastening her seatbelt with movements as natural as breathing.
Francis followed her in and sat across from her.
Watching this sister of his, something felt off.
Her demeanor—too practiced. Like she'd done this countless times.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and placed it on the small table.
Lucinda glanced at it. "What's this?"
"A gift I'd prepared for that family." Francis's tone cooled. "Just a stone. Not particularly valuable. But given how they treated you, forget it."
He casually set the box aside.
Lucinda's gaze lingered on it for a second.
The velvet was deep black, the opening bearing a gold-embossed logo—Elysian Auction's special packaging.
She remembered it clearly. The auction's star lot had come in this type of box.
Radiant Star. Top-grade blue diamond. The only one of its kind in the world—3.17 carats, with unmatched clarity and color.
She remembered. It had been purchased by a mysterious buyer for three hundred twenty million dollars.
Lucinda lowered her lashes, concealing the flash in her eyes.
She turned her head toward the window.
The runway retreated slowly. The nose lifted. Clouds rushed toward them.
"We're flying north?" she asked.
Francis paused. "Yes."
"The capital, Starlight City, is north." Lucinda's voice remained even. "I thought our family lived in the slums?"
Francis looked at her and suddenly smiled. "It used to be the slums. But they discovered a new mineral vein under that land—one of our family's projects. The old slums were demolished long ago. Now it's a new development zone."
He paused, then added, "Our family lives in Seaview Estates."
Lucinda said nothing.
Seaview Estates.
The nation's top luxury district, located in the heart of Starlight City, nestled between mountains and sea. One estate per household.
Preston had worked his whole life and still couldn't afford a villa even in Starlight City's suburbs.
She turned toward the window. Above the clouds, the sunlight was blinding.
Ninety minutes later, the plane landed at Starlight City International Airport.
A black Maybach was already waiting on the tarmac.
The driver stood by the door, waiting respectfully.
Lucinda got in.
Francis sat beside her, about to instruct the driver to head to Seaview Estates, when he heard her speak.
"Go to Starlight City Research Institute."
Francis opened his mouth, as if to say something, but ultimately nodded at the driver.
The car pulled out of the airport and headed north.
Forty minutes later, it stopped at the institute entrance.
Lucinda pushed open the door and walked straight inside.
Francis sat in the car, watching her retreating figure.
The institute gates were tightly shut, and guards were stationed at the entrance. Entry required multiple security clearances.
This kind of place—ordinary people couldn't access it. Even regular researchers couldn't enter the core areas.
He was about to call out, to tell her this wasn't somewhere just anyone could enter, when he saw her pull something from her pocket and swipe it lightly at the security gate.
The door opened.
The guard nodded in acknowledgment and let her through.
Francis's words stuck in his throat.