Chapter 69
Soon, Dahlia dressed and descended the stairs slowly.
The living room light fell perfectly on her. A black slip dress wrapped around her slender waist. The neckline plunged low, revealing a graceful collarbone.
She walked over and stopped beside Reginald, tilting her head slightly, a perfectly sweetened smile on her lips. "Reginald."
Reginald's gaze shifted from Lucinda's face, paused on Dahlia for less than a second, then moved away. He said nothing. His expression was blank.
Valencia was holding Lucinda's hand, chatting about company matters, completely oblivious to the subtle tension.
Wesley held his teacup, discussing plans for the land in the western district with Reginald.
The atmosphere at the table remained lively. Everyone's attention was on Lucinda.
Reginald sat beside her, spearing a piece of fish. He carefully picked out the bones and placed it in her bowl.
Then he picked up a shrimp, his long fingers gripping the head as he peeled it methodically. The clean shrimp meat was neatly arranged on the porcelain plate in front of her.
His gaze stayed on her face, watching her eat, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth.
Across from them, Dahlia gripped her utensils tighter and tighter.
She'd gone to all this effort to dress up and come down here—only for not a single person at the table to look at her.
Valencia was talking to Lucinda. Wesley was talking to Reginald. Reginald's eyes never left Lucinda from start to finish.
She felt like an outsider, sitting at a table full of warmth yet freezing in isolation.
After dinner, Lucinda's phone buzzed.
She glanced down. It was Kenna calling. She stood and headed upstairs, closing the door behind her.
"Boss, Jett sent word. He wants those three plots of land you're holding. He says if you don't hand them over in three days, he'll blow up our pharmaceutical warehouse in Vesperia."
Lucinda stood by the window, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.
Vesperia. She had a medicinal mountain there, maintained by a team that answered only to her.
Jett Phillips. A local thug who'd built his fortune dealing medicinal herbs. And he dared send a message like that.
"Boss, how do you want to handle it?"
"Use your judgment. I can't leave Starlight City right now. Don't bother me with small matters like this."
She hung up. Before she could set down her phone, the screen lit up again.
This time, the name flashing was the director of the research institute.
Meanwhile, in the Douglas Estate garden, Reginald stood by the flower bed, holding a leaf he'd plucked at some point, slowly turning it between his fingers.
He'd been waiting here for Lucinda for two hours. She still hadn't come out, but he had no intention of leaving.
If Lucinda hadn't forbidden him from following her inside, he'd be waiting in her room.
Just then, the sound of high heels clicking against the stone path came from behind him.
"Reginald."
Dahlia walked to his side. Moonlight fell on her bare shoulders.
She tilted slightly to one side. One strap slipped from her shoulder. Then her whole body swayed, as if her heel had twisted, and she fell toward Reginald.
Just as Dahlia was about to hit the ground, Reginald glanced her way once—then took a clean step to the side.
The next second, Dahlia hit the ground hard.
The stone path dug into her knees. Pain shot through her, and her eyes instantly reddened.
She pushed herself up partway, looked up at Reginald, and reached out her hand, her voice trembling with grievance. "Reginald… can you help me up?"
Reginald looked down at her, his gaze calm. "Stay away from me."
He turned and walked toward the living room without a moment's hesitation.
"Reginald!" Dahlia's voice chased after him, sharp and desperate. "We grew up together! Childhood sweethearts! Are you really going to treat me like this?"
Reginald's footsteps stopped.
He turned around. Moonlight fell across his face, illuminating his deep-set eyes with an almost cold clarity. "You and I only crossed paths a few times at events because our parents had business dealings. That has nothing to do with being childhood sweethearts."
"No! We grew up together, Reginald, you can't—" Dahlia scrambled to her feet and rushed toward him, reaching for his sleeve.
Her fingers had just grazed the fabric of his coat when Reginald's arm lifted, gently but firmly brushing her hand away.
He frowned. How was this woman so persistent?
Just then, the glass door to the living room slid open. Lucinda stepped out.
She'd finished her call. Phone in hand, her steps were unhurried.
Her gaze swept over the two figures by the flower bed. She took in Dahlia's slipped strap and the grass stains covering her dress in one glance.
Lucinda's eyes lingered on Dahlia for only a second before she calmly looked away, her expression unchanged.
Seeing Lucinda, Dahlia's face stiffened.
Why did Lucinda have to show up now?
No. She couldn't let Lucinda see her looking this pathetic.
She quickly pulled the strap back up, spun around, and hurried off without daring to linger even a second longer.
Seeing Lucinda, Reginald immediately walked over to her. His gaze settled on her face, carrying a trace of cautious nervousness. "She fell just now and tried to lean on me. I dodged. She grabbed my sleeve. I pushed her hand away. I didn't touch her. Not even for a second."
Lucinda looked at his expression—like he was ready to swear an oath—and stayed silent for a moment. "I'm not angry."
She truly wasn't angry. She'd never considered Dahlia worth her attention in the first place.
Reginald studied her face carefully. Visibly relieved, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.
On the other side of the glass door, Wesley and Valencia stood watching the two figures in the garden, nearly merged into one.
Valencia tugged on Wesley's sleeve, unable to suppress the smile spreading across her face.
The two exchanged a glance, said nothing, and turned to head upstairs.
Several lights in the living room were dimmed, leaving the space to the young couple.
Seeing that Reginald had no intention of letting go, Lucinda pushed against his chest. "It's getting late. You should head back."
Reginald didn't move. His arm stayed wrapped around her waist, reluctant to leave. "Then kiss me. Kiss me and I'll go."
Lucinda stayed silent for a long while. Clearly, she didn't want to.
But seeing his determined expression—like he wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted—she knew she wasn't escaping tonight.
She hesitated for a while, then finally rose slightly on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Reginald's lips curved upward, satisfaction written all over his face.
His eyes sparkled. Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a blue velvet box. He opened it. Inside lay a platinum necklace with a pigeon-blood ruby pendant.
He circled behind her and fastened the necklace around her neck.
The clasp clicked shut. The ruby settled just below her collarbone.
Before Lucinda could say anything, the glass door to the living room slid open. Dahlia stood there holding a glass of water.
She'd changed out of the grass-stained slip dress. Her face had regained its polished smile.
But when her gaze landed on the necklace around Lucinda's neck, her fingers tightened sharply around the glass.
"Lucinda, that necklace is beautiful." She walked over, tilting her head to admire the ruby, then widened her eyes slightly as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, right—Reginald gave you such an expensive gift. Did you prepare anything to give back? It's only polite to reciprocate, you know. Otherwise, people might say you don't know how things are done."
As she spoke, the malice in her eyes nearly spilled over.
She was betting on the fact that Lucinda, a country bumpkin, wouldn't have anything valuable enough to give in return.
Lucinda's gaze settled on her face for two seconds. Her voice was even. "What's it to you?"
Dahlia's smile froze.
Reginald's voice came from the side, each word carrying undeniable weight. "Everything I have is hers. No reciprocation needed."
Dahlia opened her mouth, then turned her gaze back to Lucinda, her tone taking on a lecturing edge. "Lucinda, that's just not proper—"
"Is that any of your business?" Lucinda cut her off, her voice still calm. "How I get along with my fiancé is between us. What does it have to do with you?"