Chapter 41
Lucinda's finger paused on the screen for a second.
She looked up at Reginald, who was pouring tea across from her.
He moved naturally, tilting the teapot just slightly, the tea flowing smoothly down the side of the cup without a single drop spilling.
Was he planning to buy La Perle Blanche?
She lowered her head and quickly typed a reply: [Why?]
Tamsin's response came instantly: [His assistant said Mr. Lancaster wants to buy it and give it to his future wife. Because his future wife likes the food. Lucinda, this man is seriously loaded. You spent a fortune renovating La Perle Blanche back in the day—it's the most famous restaurant in Starlight City now. And the price he's offering? Astronomical.]
Lucinda stared at the screen, her mouth twitching slightly.
So he saw her eating well and decided to buy the place for her?
But it was already hers.
She set down her phone and looked at Reginald.
He was poking at a piece of cake with his fork, prodding it for ages without bringing it to his mouth. His gaze kept drifting her way, like he was waiting for something.
"La Perle Blanche—you don't need to buy it," she said.
Reginald's fork froze.
He looked at her, a flash of surprise in his eyes. "How did you know?"
He'd only given the order less than ten minutes ago.
"A friend told me." Lucinda's tone was calm. She didn't elaborate.
Reginald stayed silent for a moment, his expression slightly uncomfortable.
He'd wanted to surprise her, but the news got out before he could even deliver it.
"You don't want me to buy it?" he asked tentatively.
"No. I only come here occasionally. I won't be here often."
Reginald leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
"Why not?" he asked, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of dejection. "Don't you like it here?"
"I do. But you don't need to buy it." Lucinda looked at him and paused. "It's too expensive. Not worth it."
Reginald smiled faintly, stayed silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "All right. Your call."
Lucinda let out a small breath of relief.
After the meal, Reginald set down his teacup, his gaze lingering on Lucinda with a touch of reluctance. "Are you free this afternoon? There's a place nearby—"
"No." Lucinda cut him off, pulling a white medicine box from her bag and handing it over. "This is for your father. Follow the instructions. It won't be long before he's fully recovered."
Reginald took the box and looked down.
A plain white paper box with no extra decoration. A small label was affixed to the seal, listing dosage and usage in neat, slender handwriting.
He looked up at her, a flicker of emotion in his eyes.
When had she prepared this?
"Thank you." His voice was lower than usual.
"It's nothing." Lucinda stood. "I need to go. I have things to do."
Reginald walked her to the door, watching her get into the car. The door closed. The car slowly pulled away.
He stood in place, looking down at the medicine box, turning it over and over in his hands.
His assistant walked over from the side, his gaze falling on the box. Suddenly, he froze.
His eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned closer, pointing at an inconspicuous mark on the sealed edge.
There, printed in the crease of the paper box, was a small "S." If you weren't looking carefully, you'd never notice it.
"Mr. Lancaster." The assistant's voice was tight. "That mark... the Solsticex you bid on a few days ago—I checked it. The packaging had the exact same mark."
Reginald's fingers stilled.
He looked down at the tiny "S," something clicking together in his mind.
Solsticex. Dr. Sinclair.
Every time Hayden needed medicine, it had been Lucinda who provided it.
His lips slowly curved upward. A smile spread from his eyes, softening even the lines at the corners.
He lifted his head, looking in the direction where the car had disappeared, pride glowing in his gaze—impossible to hide.
The assistant stood nearby, watching his boss's expression, and silently took a step back.
The boss's eyes were brighter than when he'd closed billion-dollar deals.
Lucinda leaned back in the rear seat. The car drove out through La Perle Blanche's gates, winding down the mountain road.
Sunlight poured through the window, warm and gentle. Her eyelids grew heavy.
She'd barely slept these past few days to finish that jewelry set. She'd sat in the workshop for over ten hours a day, eyes fixed on gemstones and metal threads, fingers rubbed raw.
She hadn't felt it while eating earlier, but the moment she relaxed, exhaustion washed over her like a tide.
By the time she arrived home, neither Valencia nor Wesley were in the living room.
She changed into slippers, told Uma, "Wake me for dinner," and went upstairs.
She pushed open her bedroom door, tossed her bag onto the chair, collapsed onto the bed without even changing clothes, and pulled the blanket over herself.
Next to her pillow, the little fox plushie sat lopsided, its hat crooked, grinning its silly grin.
She reached out and flicked its ear, rolled over, and fell into a deep sleep.
When she woke again, it was dark outside.
By the time she came downstairs, the dining room was already full.
Valencia was organizing the place settings. Wesley was reading the paper. Dahlia sat in her usual spot, a polished smile on her face.
Lucinda sat down at the table and reached for her utensils.
Dahlia's gaze landed on her neck. Her smile froze instantly.
Just below Lucinda's collarbone, she wore a gemstone necklace surrounded by a ring of tiny white diamonds.
She recognized that design.
Ethereal Jewel Studio's latest collection. Any single piece started at tens of millions of dollars.
So the Ethereal Jewel Studio car she'd seen at La Perle Blanche today—the jewelry Brian personally delivered—it had been for Lucinda?
Beneath the table, Dahlia's fingers clenched the napkin tightly.
The premier venue—Reginald had booked it for Lucinda.
That astronomically expensive jewelry set—also for Lucinda.
What gave Lucinda the right?
A nobody from some backwater town—what gave her the right to wear Amy's jewelry?
What gave her the right to have Reginald clear out venues for her, book premier dining rooms for her, throw money around for her?
All of that should have been hers.
She took a deep breath, forcing the hatred rising in her chest back down, her face resuming its smile.
But her fingers were still trembling. She lowered her head, pretending to drink her soup, swallowing the bitterness and rage welling in her eyes.
After dinner, Lucinda returned to her room and opened her laptop.
She needed to look into the tech company Wesley had given her.
She went through the files from beginning to end. The company was modest in size—two to three hundred employees—focused on software development and systems integration. In the industry, it was below average. Its performance was mediocre, with no standout products.
She finished the last page, closed the folder, and leaned back in her chair, thinking.
The next morning, Lucinda changed into a simple suit. When she came downstairs, Valencia was in the living room having tea.
She saw her daughter dressed like that and froze for a moment. "Cindy, are you going out?"
"Going to check out the company."
Lucinda changed her shoes in the entryway without looking up.
Valencia walked over, a little worried. "Should I come with you?"
"No need." Lucinda straightened up, thought for a moment, then added, "Dad, Mom—I'd like to keep my identity private for now. I'll act like a regular employee and get a look at things from the ground up."
A flash of surprise crossed Wesley's eyes, followed by a smile.
He glanced at Lucinda, his gaze carrying a hint of approval.
She was more level-headed than he'd expected.
Taking over a company for the first time, she wasn't rushing to reveal her identity or throw her weight around—she wanted to get the lay of the land first.
That kind of composure wasn't something just anyone had.
He nodded. "Do it your way."