Chapter 195
Her footsteps were lighter than usual. The sound of her climbing the stairs quickly disappeared into the second-floor hallway.
Dahlia stood rooted in place, the tea in her hand now completely cold.
Footsteps sounded upstairs again, followed by Valencia's voice. "Cindy, come quickly! Guests are here. They said you got first place in the nation!"
Lucinda's fingers, flipping through a book, paused. She looked up at her mother's face, flushed with excitement, her own expression still calm.
She closed the book and stood. "I'll go take a look."
Valencia grabbed her hand and pulled her out, her steps quick and hurried, as if she were afraid the guests would leave if they waited too long.
Downstairs, Dahlia stood in the shadow beside the sofa, Liam's words still echoing in her mind.
Lucinda got a perfect score?
She'd scored 109 points—a result that in any other year would've placed her at the top. But this year, someone had scored perfectly.
She stared toward the staircase, feeling something inside her chest crack, bit by bit.
And then, suddenly, she remembered something. Her pupils contracted slightly.
She'd specifically arranged for a few media reporters to come this afternoon. The plan was to take a few photos of her being received by the research institute after the results were announced, to use for publicity later.
She wanted to craft an image in front of everyone: "the Douglas family's heiress—low-key and exceptional." She wanted to silence everyone who whispered behind her back that she was "just an adopted daughter."
But now, those reporters were about to arrive!
And sitting in the living room were people who had come for Lucinda.
If the reporters came now, the only thing they'd capture would be Lucinda standing in the spotlight.
And she, Dahlia, would be standing in a corner, not even worth a single shot.
Her breathing quickened. She frantically scrolled through her contacts and found the reporter's number.
She lowered her voice, speaking quickly and urgently. "Hello? Have you arrived yet? Don't come… yes, today's plans have changed at the last minute…"
A man's voice came through the phone over the sound of an engine. "Ms. Douglas, we've already arrived. We can see the Douglas Estate gate."
Dahlia's mind went blank. Before she could say another word, there was movement from the foyer.
The front door swung open. Several people carrying cameras and holding recording pens flooded into the living room.
At the exact same moment, footsteps sounded on the staircase.
Valencia led Lucinda down by the hand.
Lucinda wore a simple white blouse, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing slender, pale wrists.
Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail. No makeup. Not a single piece of jewelry. She looked clean and understated, like a silhouette stepping out of the evening light.
But when she stood at the landing, her gaze sweeping over the people in the living room, every person holding a camera paused in unison.
She was stunning.
"Breathtaking" was the only word for it.
Without even realizing it, the lenses had already turned toward her.
Lucinda's gaze swept over the cameras as if she were accustomed to such attention.
She descended the last step and stood in the center of the living room. She raised her hand slightly, palm down, and pressed the air gently.
It was such a light gesture, yet the noise in the living room cut off abruptly.
The cameramen stopped adjusting their focus. The reporters holding recording pens straightened up. Even the researchers fell silent, their gazes all fixed on her.
"Take a few photos and that's it." Her voice was calm, carrying an effortless confidence. "When you're done, go back. Don't disturb my family's rest."
It was a command, but the reporters showed no sign of dissatisfaction. It was as if Lucinda were naturally meant to speak this way.
As if pulled by some invisible force, they silently pressed their shutters a few times.
The frames captured Lucinda standing in the center of the living room. She didn't even need to move. It was enough to hold their attention.
After finishing, they voluntarily packed up their equipment and quietly exited the foyer without saying a single extra word.
They'd completely forgotten why they'd come in the first place.
The door closed softly behind them. The living room grew quiet again.
Dahlia stood in place, still gripping her phone. The screen displayed "Call Ended."
She watched the reporters' silhouettes disappear into the dusk outside the door. From start to finish, not a single lens had turned in her direction.
The people she'd paid heavily to bring here—the carefully selected media outlets, the planned angles, the publicity strategy she'd mapped out—all of it had been taken by Lucinda!
Her fingers clenched around the phone. Her nails dug into her palm. The pain shot up her entire arm, making it tremble.
The living room stayed quiet for only a few seconds before voices surged from all directions.
A female researcher was the first to step forward. She extended her hand to Lucinda, her tone much softer than it had been at the Wipere family—almost warm, even eager.
"Ms. Wipere, I'm Haven Brooks from the National Academy of Sciences of Astoria. Your perfect score exam—our entire review panel has read it over and over. Especially the derivation approach for that interdisciplinary synthesis question. We discussed it internally for two days and unanimously agreed it was textbook-level problem-solving. Our institute currently has a national-level project in a critical phase. If you're willing to come on as a consultant, you can name your terms."
Lucinda nodded slightly, her tone calm. "Ms. Brooks, I've been following your project. The technical direction you're pursuing is already very mature. You don't need me as a consultant. What you're lacking right now is practical coordination on the experimental end. I've already seen that you're collaborating with a lab in Suncrest City. You don't need me to get involved."
Haven froze for a moment, then undisguised delight flooded her eyes. "You… you even know about our collaboration in Suncrest City?"
Lucinda didn't answer. She just nodded.
A gray-haired man beside her had already pushed forward, clutching a business card in his hand and practically shoving it toward Lucinda's hand. "Ms. Wipere, I'm Alvin Jordan from the National Institute of Technology of Astoria. I still remember that presentation you gave at our institute two years ago. If you're willing, come visit us anytime. Just lend us your name. We'd just appreciate the occasional bit of guidance from you."
Lucinda accepted the card and glanced down at it.
She frowned slightly, her tone carrying a faint familiarity. "Mr. Jordan, I read those two papers you published last year. The third data set in the second paper—you used a different approach than in the first. Did you change your methodology, or did you have a personnel change?"