Chapter 567 Jacob and Serafina's Wedding 4
After Jacob went downstairs, the sound of a car engine starting echoed through the courtyard below, gradually fading until it disappeared completely.
Serafina collapsed onto the edge of the bed, utterly deflated.
He was gone.
They had agreed to visit her parents together. He had clearly seen how important today was to her, yet he'd left without consideration. She understood his work was demanding, but this was only their third day as newlyweds.
Sleep now impossible, Serafina wrapped herself in a morning robe and stepped onto the balcony to gaze into the distance. The morning mist hung heavy and impenetrable—much like her heart, lost and uncertain.
She remained there until her body nearly froze, finally returning to the warm bedroom. The large bed was slightly disheveled, bearing faint evidence of last night's intimacy, yet her heart felt nothing but ice.
Serafina hugged herself tightly, arms wrapped around her body for comfort.
Downstairs, a servant approached. Evidently following Jacob's instructions, the woman respectfully announced from the doorway, "Mrs. Windsor, the car and gifts are ready. What time would you like to depart?"
"I'll come down after I've freshened up," Serafina replied softly, her eyes downcast.
The servant, sensing her mood, withdrew without another word.
After a moment, Serafina pulled herself together.
She went through the motions of washing and dressing, mechanically consumed a light breakfast, and then settled into the car bound for the Penrose Mansion.
As the vehicle glided through the streets, she couldn't help wondering whether Jacob's business in Vesper City was truly urgent or if he simply wanted to revisit old haunts. Or perhaps he merely wanted to avoid Nicole's wedding.
Serafina had known marriage to Jacob wouldn't be easy—a union of convenience and exchange of interests rarely was. But she hadn't realized how painful it would be to have a husband who simply didn't care.
Jacob's absence from their visit to the Penrose Mansion would surely send her father into a rage. She could picture it perfectly.
In the backseat of the luxury car, Serafina's face was ashen.
Half an hour later, the black Rolls-Royce smoothly pulled into the Penrose Mansion driveway.
The Penrose family was wealthy, and Ronan, ever conscious of appearances, had made special preparations for Jacob's visit. He had decorated the entire estate festively and now stood waiting eagerly at the entrance.
As the black car came to a stop, Ronan rubbed his hands together in anticipation and hurried to open the door.
"Jacob, we've been looking forward to having you and Serafina home! We must have a proper drink today," he called out warmly.
His words hung in the air as he stared at Serafina, alone in the backseat.
"Where's Jacob?" he demanded.
Serafina stepped out, adjusting her coat. "There was an urgent matter in Vesper City he had to attend to," she explained quietly.
Ronan's eyes bored into her. His breathing quickened, and before Serafina could react, his hand flew across her face. "Useless girl! You can't even keep one man satisfied."
Angry red marks bloomed across Serafina's delicate cheek.
She covered her face, her voice trembling slightly. "We never had an emotional foundation. It's only natural I can't hold his heart."
"That's because you're not trying hard enough." Ronan pointed his finger in her face, heedless of her dignity. "Your mother was incompetent, giving birth to two daughters, and I never complained. I've fed you and Isadora the best food, provided the finest education, and moved heaven and earth to marry you into the Windsor family. Is this how you repay me?"
The winter air felt brutal around them.
A bitter smile touched Serafina's lips.
Jacob's chauffeur stood nearby, stunned—Ronan, known in business circles as an affable man, was treating Serafina with such cruelty.
This wasn't an arranged marriage; it was selling his daughter!
As the driver opened the trunk to retrieve the gifts, he deliberately announced, "Mr. Windsor couldn't make it, but all these presents were personally selected by him for Mrs. Windsor to bring."
Ronan's expression softened slightly.
Turning to Jacob's chauffeur with a suddenly pleasant demeanor, he said, "Jacob is always so thoughtful, unlike Serafina here. Since her marriage, she no longer listens to me!"
The chauffeur made no response, simply handing the gifts to the Penrose family servants.
Lila, hearing the commotion, rushed out from the house. She immediately noticed Serafina covering her cheek—clearly Ronan had struck her again.
"Isadora is killing herself working for your company, and Serafina has married into the Windsor family exactly as you wanted. What more could you possibly want?" Lila sneered at Ronan. "Even if you were raising a hen for eggs, you'd have to feed it for months first!"
Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Ronan, I know exactly what you're thinking. You treat Isadora and Serafina as daughters on the surface, but your heart belongs only to that illegitimate son your mistress bore you. You make our daughters slave away while you enjoy the wealth and luxury. Let me tell you this—as long as I draw breath, that bastard of yours will never legitimately cross this threshold."
Exposed, Ronan bristled. "Couldn't you show some restraint in front of others?" he hissed.
"Restraint?" Lila's laugh was cold and sharp. "Where was your restraint when you were warming your mistress's bed? You're feeling powerful now that Serafina has married into the Windsor family, thinking you can bleed her dry. Let me make something clear, Ronan—marriages can end as easily as they begin. Touch Serafina again, and I'll have her divorce Jacob immediately. Then I'll charge you with bigamy and make sure you, your mistress, and your bastard son never show your faces in decent society again."
Normally the picture of grace and decorum, Lila now resembled a fury, shocking Ronan into silence. In truth, she was merely putting on a show, unwilling to let Jacob's chauffeur witness Serafina's humiliation and potentially make her life at the Windsor household even more difficult.
Her bluster was largely empty. The Penrose family's power remained firmly in Ronan's grasp, with Isadora still developing her influence. For Serafina, the Windsor household was actually a relatively safe haven.
After the confrontation, Lila led Serafina inside.
Though Jacob hadn't come, the household staff offered their congratulations, and Serafina presented Jacob's gifts on his behalf.
Once the formalities were complete, Lila took Serafina upstairs to treat her injured cheek. In the privacy of the sitting room, mother and daughter could finally speak freely.
Lila's hands were deft as she applied the medicine. "Isadora isn't home right now, which is why your father dared act so brazenly," she said softly. "Sometimes I want nothing more than to end this charade and take you both away from Ronan, but I can't bring myself to do it. And Isadora refuses—she won't be satisfied until she's stripped that bastard of everything."
Serafina understood. Isadora had sacrificed too much; she couldn't let one slap undo all her sister's work.
Lila hesitated before continuing, "Don't concern yourself with the company. Focus on maintaining a good relationship with Jacob. Even if he doesn't love you, the Windsor family can protect you. Serafina... it would be best if you had a child."
A son—the words remained unspoken, but Serafina understood perfectly.
Her heart filled with sorrow, a grief she could never express aloud.
That evening, Isadora returned home.
She tossed a contract onto Ronan's desk. When he opened it, he discovered a highly profitable deal Isadora had secured with the Montague Pharmaceutical Group.
His eyes crinkled with pleasure. "Isadora, you're always so capable."
Dressed in a sharp business suit, Isadora looked strikingly beautiful and dangerously poised.
She regarded Ronan with a cold smile. "Capable indeed. Before coming home, I paid a visit to your other house. Whatever you did to Serafina, I did twice over to your mistress."
She leaned forward, her smile growing colder. "Double the pain."
Ronan trembled with rage.
Isadora—his daughter who never ceased to shock him.