Chapter 63
Guests streamed past them in a blur of evening finery, but Sterling barely acknowledged their departures, his attention fixed on Willow with unsettling intensity.
His scrutiny made her increasingly uncomfortable. If she didn't know his character better, she might have suspected he was deliberately detaining her.
Was this some subtle punishment for the earlier scene?
She quickly dismissed the thought. Sterling wasn't one for indiscriminate justice, and besides, she'd already told him about her plans to divorce Charles—he wouldn't treat her as a Lancaster who needed disciplining.
"Well..." she hesitated, searching for words to convey genuine gratitude.
Sterling's gaze suddenly shifted beyond her. "Charles is waiting for you."
Willow turned to see Charles approaching from the car, suspicion etched clearly in his eyes.
Not wanting to entangle Sterling in her marital troubles, she turned back with a quick, forced smile. "I'll think carefully about how to properly thank you, Uncle Sterling. I should go now. Sleep well tonight."
With that, she hurried toward Charles, leaving Sterling watching their retreating figures, the air still carrying traces of her delicate scent.
"That old witch Penelope harasses the poor girl, and now you're giving her a hard time too?" Elaine materialized beside him, arms crossed.
"When did I give her a hard time?" Sterling asked, his voice deep with genuine confusion.
Elaine studied him with knowing eyes. "Maybe not a hard time, but you were certainly keeping her from leaving. Your demeanor frightened half the guests."
She'd witnessed the scene from upstairs and come down specifically to intervene.
Sterling frowned. "Was I really that intimidating?"
Elaine simply gave him a pointed look.
"I wasn't," he insisted. He'd only wanted to prolong their interaction—encounters with Willow somehow helped him sleep better, though he'd never admit that aloud.
He turned and walked back into the manor, Elaine following close behind.
"Were you worried you might have scared Willow?" she pressed.
Sterling's silence was answer enough.
---
The atmosphere in the car crackled with tension as Charles drove.
Willow pretended not to notice, losing herself in the passing scenery rather than acknowledging the storm brewing beside her.
"What were you discussing with Uncle Sterling?" Charles finally broke the silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Willow caught his reflection in the window. "If you want to know, you can ask him yourself."
She'd meant to avoid an argument, but Charles interpreted her words as a threat—as though she viewed Sterling as her protector against him.
His face darkened. "Since when are you and Uncle Sterling so close?"
Then, remembering her company's rumored collaboration with the Lancaster Group, he pressed further. "Did the Lancaster Group really partner with your firm? How far has this collaboration progressed?"
Every word betrayed his suspicions about her relationship with Sterling.
Willow grew increasingly irritated. "No, it—" She stopped mid-sentence, remembering something. "Our company has been shut down."
Charles gave her a skeptical look before making a call to confirm.
After receiving information from his subordinate, he spoke with condescension barely masked as concern. "I've always told you to avoid questionable jobs, especially at small companies like that."
"You didn't know?" Willow asked, studying his reaction carefully.
Charles looked genuinely confused. "Know what? About your company's failure? I've been too busy lately. I'd planned to teach Gareth a lesson, but never found the opportunity. It's just as well the company closed."
So it wasn't his doing.
Willow turned away, puzzled. Who else could it be? Orion? Unlikely—he might disapprove of her, but he and Gareth were cut from the same cloth. Orion wouldn't punish Gareth for her actions.
But Gareth's company had operated smoothly for years. How coincidental that tax issues would surface right after that particular day...
Before she could reach any conclusions, Charles spoke again, unable to let go of his earlier suspicions.
"Willow, you and Uncle Sterling..."
"I was thanking him," she replied coolly. "Nothing more."
Charles's expression hardened. "He was merely protecting the Lancaster family's reputation, not specifically helping you. There's no need for special thanks."
He attributed Sterling's actions to family loyalty, refusing to acknowledge any connection between Sterling and Willow.
"Of course," she replied with icy precision. "Since you couldn't handle your own family matters."
Her words effectively silenced him.
As they approached an intersection, Charles continued straight instead of turning toward her apartment.
Willow immediately tensed. "Where are you taking me? This isn't the way to my home."
"Willow, the estate is your home," Charles insisted. "That apartment is just temporary."
"Let me out. I'll call a taxi." She reached for the door handle.
The locks clicked as Charles secured the doors.
"Charles!" Willow glared at him.
He remained unmoved. "Don't be dramatic, Willow. Opening doors while driving is dangerous. We're not divorced yet—there's no reason for you to live elsewhere."
After several failed attempts to persuade him, she finally resigned herself to returning to the estate with him, her silence heavy with unspoken anger.
It was late when they arrived.
Rena, about to retire for the night, saw them enter together and brightened, assuming they'd reconciled.
Before she could comment, Willow spoke firmly. "Rena, please prepare a guest room for me."
Rena hesitated, her eyes darting to Charles for direction.
He grabbed Willow's hand possessively. "That won't be necessary. We'll share a room tonight. Rena, you may go."
He pulled Willow toward the stairs.
"Charles! Let go of me!" Willow's resistance was palpable, her body stiff with rejection.
They seemed on the verge of an explosive argument. Rena wisely retreated to her room, leaving them the living room.
"Willow, let's have a child," Charles said suddenly, gripping her wrist with unsettling intensity, as if trying to physically keep her from slipping away.
The desperation in his eyes frightened her, but Charles was lost in his own fantasy.
"I saw it earlier—you like children, don't you?" he continued, words tumbling out. "Let's have a child of our own. Grandmother wants to hold her great-grandchild."
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "Once we have a baby, everything will improve. Grandmother's surgery will go well, and our relationship will return to how it used to be..."
He should have realized it sooner, he thought. Willow had always yearned for a perfect family.
With a child, they would be bound together permanently—truly a family at last.