Chapter 124
David chimed in: You’ve spoiled her rotten!
Maricela was there too, ever hypocritical: Cedrick, don’t be angry. Did I upset Lucille again?
Lucille turned back over, ready to sleep:
“Don’t sleep!
Explain this!
What exactly did you mean?”
Cedrick wouldn’t let it go.
“Exactly what it says.”
Her eyes stayed shut.
“Exactly what it says?”
He wrenched her around to face him. “Can a dog give you money?
Can a dog give you a comfortable life?
Can a dog hold your whole world together?”
Lucille’s bright eyes locked on his breath–close face. “I can earn money myself. I can build my own comfortable life. I can hold my own world together. But if I had rescued a dog, it would’ve been loyal to me alone. It would’ve loved only me. So, Cedrick, I’m deleting that post.”
She paused, voice sharpening. “Because it’s an insult to dogs.”
Since Maricela appeared, she’d rarely spoken this much to him. As the words hung, she saw something sinking in his dark pupils.
“So?
You regret it, don’t you?
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You regret saving me?”
He gripped her shoulders and asked in a low voice.
Lucille chuckled softly, “Wasn’t that just my scheme to trick you into marrying me?
Consider my plan a failure.”
Cedrick stared at her, silent for a long moment.
She gently pushed his hand away and turned over. “It’s late. Let’s sleep. If you regret this too, honey, we can discuss divorce with the lawyer tomorrow.”
Since starting rehabilitation, exhaustion granted Lucille sleep as deep as a log.
The next day, she woke at ten again.
Cedrick hadn’t left. He sat at home, absorbed in his phone.
“Breakfast. Don’t say I never cook for you.”
He glanced up briefly before returning to his screen.
The breakfast was Western: two slices of sourdough. One topped with arugula, seared salmon, and caviar; the other with pesto, silky scrambled eggs, and cheese.
No milk–just a glass of juice.
The caviar was fragrant, the salmon perfectly seared. The eggs were soft and tender, just how she liked them. The pesto had a distinctively grainy texture, unlike store–bought versions. Mylee rarely cooked Western food, so Cedrick must’ve whipped up the sauce that morning.
Delicious and satisfying–she finished both slices.
He never cared for Western cuisine himself. His skill could only mean one thing: Maricela loved it.
But whatever.
As she finished, he stood. “Should we find a lawyer to review the contract first?”
“No need.”
Lucille set down her glass. “But addendum to Clause Three: Besides never marrying
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Maricela, include that if you breach this by marrying her–or even having a child with her unmarried–all your assets shall belong to Lucille.”
He nodded slowly, a murky half–smile in his eyes. “Quite harsh, Mrs. Maynard. You won’t bear my child, yet forbid others from doing so? Isn’t that a bit tyrannical, huh?”
“Your choice. You can refuse.”
Having just stood up, she sat back down.
What did he mean by she wouldn’t bear him children?
For five years of marriage, how many times had she shamelessly asked to have his child, only to be coldly rejected? Now that Maricela couldn’t conceive, he came to her?
“Agreed.”
He picked up his briefcase. “Of course I agree. Let’s go, Mrs. Maynard.”
Lucille gathered her things and followed him out, even bringing an extra outfit. She worried her rehab session might run late, leaving no time to change before meeting Emma. Sweaty clothes wouldn’t do.
“Dinner with Emma tonight?”
Cedrick noticed the spare clothes.
“Hmm.
“Rehab this afternoon too?”
“Hmm.”
Cedrick frowned slightly. “Still necessary?
It’s grueling. Can you handle it?”
“Hmm.”
He stared at her, torn between annoyance and amusement. “Is this your version of ‘a word worth gold“?
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Chapter 124
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Maricela, include that if you breach this by marrying her–or even having a child with her unmarried–all your assets shall belong to Lucille.”
He nodded slowly, a murky half–smile in his eyes. “Quite harsh, Mrs. Maynard. You won’t bear my child, yet forbid others from doing so? Isn’t that a bit tyrannical, huh?”
“Your choice. You can refuse.”
Having just stood up, she sat back down.
What did he mean by she wouldn’t bear him children?
For five years of marriage, how many times had she shamelessly asked to have his child, only to be coldly rejected? Now that Maricela couldn’t conceive, he came to her?
“Agreed.”
He picked up his briefcase. “Of course I agree. Let’s go, Mrs. Maynard.”
Lucille gathered her things and followed him out, even bringing an extra outfit. She worried her rehab session might run late, leaving no time to change before meeting Emma. Sweaty clothes wouldn’t do.
“Dinner with Emma tonight?”
Cedrick noticed the spare clothes.
“Hmm.”
“Rehab this afternoon too?”
“Hmm.”
Cedrick frowned slightly. “Still necessary?
It’s grueling. Can you handle it?”
“Hmm.”
He stared at her, torn between annoyance and amusement. “Is this your version of ‘a word worth gold“?