Chapter 38
In the study at the Lancaster Estate, Reginald sat at his desk. A contract for tomorrow's meeting lay open in front of him, but his eyes were fixed on his phone screen.
The phone lit up. He grabbed it almost instantly, his gaze landing on Lucinda's brief reply.
He stared at the screen. Slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted—so much so that he couldn't suppress it no matter how hard he tried.
He typed a few words. Deleted them. Typed a few more. Deleted them again.
He wanted to send something else but was afraid he'd bother her.
He turned the phone over and over in his hands, the screen lighting up and dimming, dimming and lighting—like he was holding a precious, scalding treasure. He couldn't bear to put it down, but he didn't quite know what to do with it either.
His assistant stood nearby, documents in hand, watching his boss.
He'd worked for Reginald for five years. He'd seen him back people into corners at the negotiation table without blinking. He'd seen him ruin entire families with a blank expression. He'd seen him shake the entire stock market with a single phone call.
But he'd never seen his boss look like this.
Grinning like a fool at his phone screen. Typing and deleting. Deleting and typing again. Like some lovesick teenager.
"Mr. Lancaster?" the assistant ventured cautiously.
"What?" Reginald didn't look up.
"This contract—"
"Leave it."
Reginald finally set his phone down, but his gaze still drifted to the screen every few seconds—like he was waiting for something.
The assistant silently set the contract on the desk and nearly walked into the doorframe on his way out.
Over the next few days, Lucinda practically locked herself in her studio.
After finalizing the designs, she rushed to meet Tamsin, and the two of them holed up in the workshop, working nonstop.
Selecting gemstones, polishing metals, adjusting the angles of settings—she personally oversaw every single step. Her fingers turned red from handling the tools. Her eyes grew sore from staring at fine details for hours on end. But she didn't stop for a moment.
Tamsin handed her tools from the side, watching her work herself to the bone, and couldn't help shaking her head. "Boss, it's just a five-hundred-million-dollar order. Is it really worth killing yourself over?"
Lucinda ignored her. Her fingers steadily set the final gemstone into place. She held the piece up to the light, checked every angle to confirm it was flawless, then finally set down her tools.
The entire jewelry set was arranged neatly on a velvet tray—necklace, earrings, bracelet, rings—all glowing with a deep, mysterious blue under the lights, like starlight from the ocean's depths.
"Done." She straightened up and rolled her stiff neck.
Tamsin carefully packed the jewelry into custom gift boxes and called someone to arrange delivery.
Lucinda glanced at the clock on the wall—eleven a.m.
She paused.
Today was... the weekend, wasn't it?
And she was supposed to meet Reginald today, right?
She looked down at her phone. Sure enough, there were several unread messages on the screen, all from Reginald.
The earliest one was from eight a.m.: [Are you up?]
Nine a.m.: [Nice weather today.]
Ten a.m.: [Don't forget about lunch.]
Ten-thirty: [You didn't forget, did you?]
Eleven: [I'm heading out now. Send me the address.]
The last one had a pitiful little emoji at the end.
Lucinda looked at that emoji. Her mouth twitched.
The world's richest man. The ruthless business titan. Sending this kind of emoji?
She replied: [Didn't forget. Sending you the address now.]
The moment she hit send, her phone rang.
Reginald's voice came through, laced with relieved amusement. "I knew you didn't forget. I'm on my way. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Where are you? I'll come pick you up."
Lucinda gave him the address and hung up.
Tamsin watched her from the side, eyes full of meaning. "Lucinda, what's going on? Are you dating someone?"
"No."
"Then why are the corners of your mouth turned up?"
Lucinda looked at her expressionlessly.
Tamsin wisely shut her mouth, though her own grin stretched wider than anyone's.
Meanwhile, at La Perle Blanche.
La Perle Blanche sat halfway up a hill on the eastern outskirts of Starlight City. The entire complex was built into the mountainside—white walls and dark tiled roofs nestled among lush bamboo groves.
This was Starlight City's most exclusive private club. Membership started at eight figures, and only those at the very top of the pyramid were granted access.
Dahlia had reserved the entire observation deck.
Beneath enormous sunshades sat several white sofas. A champagne tower sparkled gold in the sunlight. Servers in crisp uniforms moved gracefully among the guests, trays in hand. Everything was exquisitely refined.
"Dahlia, you're incredible!"
Hazel held a champagne flute, sinking into the sofa, her eyes shining. "La Perle Blanche! My dad's been trying to get membership here for years and still hasn't succeeded. And you just rented out the whole place?"
Dahlia leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, swirling her champagne flute, lips curved in a faint smile. "It's nothing. Just felt like getting out for a bit."
"Feeling bad so you come to La Perle Blanche?" Another girl leaned in, her tone exaggerated. "Dahlia, if that's what you call feeling bad, then we should all be jumping off buildings every day!"
The group dissolved into laughter.
Hazel set down her glass and looped her arm through Dahlia's, voice full of envy. "Seriously though, Dahlia, you were born lucky. The only daughter of the Douglas family—raised in luxury since childhood, wanting for nothing. A casual afternoon here costs over a million dollars. We wouldn't even dare dream of it."
"Exactly." Another girl chimed in eagerly. "And I heard Dahlia's about to marry into the Lancaster family! The Lancaster family! The world's wealthiest! When that happens, Dahlia will be the wife of the richest man alive. That honor? She's the only one in all of Starlight City who has it!"
Dahlia held her glass, listening to the compliments, her smile growing wider and wider.
Spending some money and hearing her friends fawn over her—her mood really had improved.
So what if Lucinda was the real Douglas family heiress?
In their circle, the person everyone knew, recognized, and admired was her—Dahlia.
She'd grown up in the Douglas family. She'd spent twenty years building her reputation in this world. Who even knew that Lucinda girl who'd just come back from some backwater town?
She probably hadn't even heard of La Perle Blanche.
"You guys are exaggerating." Dahlia's tone was chiding, but tinged with pride. "Wife of the richest man? Nothing's been decided yet."
"What do you mean nothing's decided?" Hazel's eyes widened. "Everyone knows about the engagement between the Douglas family and the Lancaster family! The Lancaster elders adore you—they even invited you over to play piano last time. Dahlia, stop being modest. If not you, who else would be fit to be the wife of the world's richest man?"
Dahlia was positively glowing from the praise. She took a sip of champagne, her gaze drifting over the railing to the layers of bamboo groves below. Her mood was as bright as the sunlight.
So what if Lucinda came back?
She was the center of this world. She was the envied heiress of the Douglas family. She was the one about to marry into the Lancaster family.
As for that Lucinda girl from some nowhere town? She'd never break into this circle. Not in this lifetime.
"By the way, Dahlia." Hazel leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "Your sister—the one they just found—has she ever been to a place like this?"
Dahlia laughed lightly, her tone airy. "Her? Grew up in some small town. She's probably never even heard the name La Perle Blanche."
The group burst into laughter again.
"Dahlia, come quick! They said they're opening that bottle of Romanée-Conti!"
Hazel called out to her from behind.
Dahlia turned around, her skirt twirling in a graceful arc in the breeze.
She walked back on her high heels and took the expensive bottle of wine, her smile radiant as the sun above.
"Open it!"
She raised her glass, her tone carrying a magnanimous, superior air. "Today, everyone—drink whatever you want. It's on me."
Cheers erupted from the deck, carried off into the mountain wind.