Chapter 197
The prominent figures exchanged glances, clearly reluctant. But seeing Lucinda's expression—one that clearly said, "If you don't leave now, I really won't deal with you anymore"—they finally quieted down and filed out in small groups.
The door closed softly behind them. The living room fell quiet again.
The servants standing at the far end of the hallway remained rooted in place, their expressions varied, as if they'd just watched a dramatic play and hadn't yet recovered from the plot twist.
Valencia stood beside the sofa, staring at the closed door for a long moment, still processing.
She tugged at Wesley's sleeve, her voice brimming with pride. "Did you hear that? Do you know who those people were? The National Academy of Sciences, the National Institute of Technology, and that Mr. Adams… Last year, you tried to bring him on as a technical advisor and he wouldn't even meet with you. And now? They were all crowding around Cindy, competing to take her to dinner."
Wesley looked equally stunned. He'd never imagined his daughter was this accomplished.
"Cindy." Valencia walked over and took Lucinda's hand, her voice thick with belated concern. "Why didn't you ever tell us? You've done so much out there—saved so many people, won so many awards… Why didn't you say a single word? All these years, you've done so much… have you been exhausted?"
As the words settled, something in Lucinda's chest stirred unexpectedly.
All these years, she'd been moving forward relentlessly in these fields.
Everyone looked up to her. Admired her. Followed her achievements.
But no one had ever asked if she was tired.
She pressed her lips together, turned to look at Valencia, and smiled. "Thank you, Mom. But there's nothing much to say. It's all in the past."
Valencia squeezed her hand, opened her mouth as if to say something, then realized nothing felt adequate.
In the end, she simply patted the back of Lucinda's hand, her voice catching slightly. "Alright. I won't ask anymore. You've had a long day. Go upstairs and rest. I'll have the kitchen keep some soup warm for you."
Lucinda nodded and turned to head upstairs.
She returned to her room, closed the door, and sat down at her desk.
Her phone screen glared brightly, the notification bar packed with messages.
She leaned back in her chair and scrolled through them one by one.
Liam's message had come first: [Teacher, I finally got to see you today. You said 'another time,' and I'm holding you to it. Whenever you're free, I'm available anytime.]
She typed a quick reply: [Next week. I'll reach out then.]
Next was Mr. Adams's message, his tone lightly reproachful: [Cindy, don't stand me up again. I've already smoothed things over with your master, told him you've genuinely been busy. But if you don't show up soon, I won't be able to help you anymore.]
Lucinda smiled faintly and replied with a simple: [Okay.]
Then came messages from various research institutes, one after another. She replied to each one—brief, but none overlooked.
By the time she sent the last email, she set down her phone, rubbed her temples, and glanced outside. Night had fully fallen.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a call. Reginald's name lit up the screen.
She answered. Before she could speak, his voice came through. "Perfect score?"
"Yes."
"I saw. It's all over the news. First in the nation, perfect score, unanimous approval from the review panel. It's even on TV."
Lucinda leaned back in her chair, her fingers absently twisting a loose strand of hair. "You watched?"
"Of course. Start to finish." Reginald paused. The amusement in his voice faded slightly, replaced by something more earnest. "Lucinda, you're amazing."
Feeling the genuine pride in his words, Lucinda couldn't help but smile.
"Oh, right." His tone brightened suddenly. "I had some food sent over. It should be there soon. You spent the whole evening dealing with those people—I'm sure you didn't eat properly. A few of the dishes are ones you mentioned wanting to try. I remembered."
Lucinda glanced at the time on her phone, then looked out the window.
Near the estate gate, she could faintly make out the silhouette of a delivery person pulling up.
Her voice softened without her realizing it. "How did you know I hadn't eaten?"
"Every time you get busy, you forget to eat. I didn't just meet you yesterday."
She didn't respond. By the time she hung up and headed downstairs, the insulated delivery bag was already sitting on the dining table.
Meanwhile, at the Wipere Villa, Gemma was flipping through channels with the remote.
The TV screen switched, landing on the local news channel.
On screen was a photo of Lucinda standing in the center of the Douglas Estate's living room. Her profile was cool and strikingly beautiful.
A headline ran alongside it: [Ms. Lucinda Wipere, First Nationwide in Selection Exam: Perfect Score Stuns Review Panel.]
Gemma's hand froze on the remote.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the familiar face on the screen for several seconds. Then she smacked Preston's arm. "Preston… Preston! Look at the TV!"
Preston had been looking at his phone. At her voice, he looked up. The moment his gaze landed on the screen, he went still.
In the footage, Lucinda stood in a spacious, brightly lit living room. Around her stood a group of people in dark uniforms. In the background, through floor-to-ceiling windows, a garden and distant water feature were faintly visible.
The layout and décor—it was clearly not an ordinary household.
"Who's that… next to her?" Gemma's voice was tight.
The camera zoomed in slightly. Beside Lucinda stood a middle-aged woman in a long dress, holding her hand. Her profile was gentle and refined, exuding an air of elegance.
Gemma stared at the woman's face for a few seconds, then suddenly whipped her head toward Preston. "Isn't that woman… from the Douglas family? I think I've seen her in a magazine!"
Preston's expression shifted.
He set down his phone and stared at the TV screen for a long moment. The light in his eyes slowly shifted from shock to unease.
He thought of Wesley. Of Valencia. Of the scene he'd witnessed that day in the nursing home lobby.
Those distinguished figures had surrounded Lucinda like she was some precious treasure they'd lost and found again.
"Could it be… Lucinda is from the Douglas family? No, that doesn't make sense. Quick, call and ask." His voice was hoarse. "That friend of yours who knows someone related to the Douglas family—ask how many daughters the Douglas family has."
Gemma immediately grabbed her phone, scrolled through her contacts for a while, and dialed a number.
The phone rang a few times before someone picked up. "Gemma? Why are you calling so late?"
"I need to ask you something." Gemma kept her voice low, speaking quickly and urgently. "The Douglas family—you know them, right? The wealthiest family, that Douglas family. How many daughters do they have?"