Chapter 228
Gemma stood frozen, her chest heaving violently. She was furious and frustrated but had no outlet for her anger.
Just then, a commotion arose from the direction of the hotel lobby.
All the servers simultaneously stopped what they were doing and bowed slightly toward the entrance in perfect unison.
The front desk manager jogged briskly to the door and personally pulled open the heavy glass doors.
Light from outside poured in, illuminating a figure stepping out of a car.
A black Rolls-Royce had silently pulled up beneath the portico.
The car door opened. A woman stepped out.
Off-white trench coat. Black slacks. Flat shoes. A small canvas bag in hand.
Her long hair draped over her shoulders, lifted gently by the night breeze. Despite the simplicity of her outfit, the entire hotel lobby fell silent for a moment.
Lucinda.
The Wipere family members sat in their private room. Through the half-open door, they had a clear view of the lobby.
Seeing this spectacle, Gemma's mouth fell open. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
She watched as the hotel's front desk manager personally stepped forward, his demeanor so respectful it bordered on humble.
She watched as every server in the lobby bowed in unison, their voices synchronized: "Good evening, Ms. Wipere."
She watched as Lucinda gave a slight nod without breaking stride and walked directly toward the VIP elevator that led straight to the top floor.
The entire process took no more than ten seconds, but it felt like a slow-motion sequence—every detail impossibly clear and impossible to ignore.
The elevator doors closed behind her. The indicator light climbed steadily upward.
The lobby returned to silence, but this silence was completely different from before.
Several servers remained standing in place, their gazes following the direction of that elevator as if waiting for instructions.
The front desk manager straightened up, adjusted his collar, and walked toward the Wipere family's private room. He pushed open the door and bowed slightly. "Everyone, my sincerest apologies. The VIP in the Supreme Hall has now been seated. The kitchen will begin serving your meals immediately. Please wait just a moment."
He withdrew after speaking.
The room felt like someone had pressed mute. Everyone was stunned.
Someone finally broke the silence. "Was that… Lucinda just now?"
"The Velvet Fork's Supreme Hall… I heard even people from the Douglas family—the wealthiest family in the city—can't always book it. And she just walked right in?"
"Didn't they say she was the Wipere family's adopted daughter? How does she have this kind of clout?"
Eyes turned toward Allegra, filled with undisguised scrutiny.
Allegra sat there, fingers gripping the hem of her dress so tightly her nails nearly pierced through the fabric into her palms.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. The smile on her face had completely shattered, revealing a layer of bloodless pallor beneath.
Gemma stood at the doorway, her expression like she'd been slapped across the face.
Dozens of tables of people had been left waiting here because, as the staff said, there was an important guest.
And that important guest… was Lucinda?
One person—Lucinda alone—was considered more important than all of them combined?
What… what on earth is going on?
Marshall's gaze remained fixed on the now-closed elevator doors. He didn't look away for a long time.
That woman's silhouette. The breeze sweeping through the hall. The hotel manager bowing low.
She stood there—completely unrecognizable from the quiet girl who used to stay tucked away in corners in his memory.
Tatum sat nearby, her fingers tightening slightly around her teacup.
She glanced at Allegra's stiff face, then at the figure that had already disappeared outside the door. Slowly, she lowered her eyes, lifted her teacup, took a sip, and said nothing.
The guests in the room began whispering among themselves.
"Didn't they say Lucinda was coming tonight? She came, sure—but she went straight upstairs without even glancing in here. Seems like the Wipere family's relationship with Ms. L isn't as good as they claimed…"
"This dinner… might've been a mistake."
On the other side, the doors to the Supreme Hall were pushed open simultaneously by two servers.
The room was spacious but sparsely occupied. At the center of the round table sat a bottle of aged red wine. The glassware gleamed softly under the lights.
When Lucinda walked in, Valencia was the first to stand.
"Cindy! Come, sit here." She hurried over, took Lucinda's hand, and led her toward the seat beside the head of the table. "Your aunt and uncle have been waiting for you."
Lucinda followed her gaze. Across the table sat a middle-aged couple.
The man wore a custom-tailored charcoal suit. His temples were lightly graying, his eyes warm and kind.
The woman wore an emerald-green gown, her hair pinned up meticulously. She had an elegant air about her. Laugh lines framed her eyes as she looked Lucinda up and down, her gaze filled with curiosity and delight.
"So this is Cindy?" The woman stood, walked over in a few quick steps, and took both of Lucinda's hands in hers. Her voice carried that particular warmth unique to elders. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined. Your mother showed me photos, but I told her they didn't do you justice. You're much lovelier in person."
Lucinda's lips curved slightly. "Aunt Yvonne."
Yvonne Douglas, the Douglas family's aunt.
Years ago, she'd married into the Sharp family. Her husband, Quinton Sharp, was the head of the Sharp family in Suncrest City.
The couple had been in business for many years—low-profile but formidable. Though they didn't visit the Douglas family frequently, they always appeared for major events. The relationship had always been close.
Quinton also stood, smiling and nodding. "It's good you're back. Your mother's been talking about you for twenty years. Our ears have heard it so many times we've got calluses. Finally, you're home."
Valencia stood beside them, her eyes reddening as she smiled, still holding Lucinda's hand. "Your aunt and uncle prepared a welcome gift for you. Sit down, let's talk."
Lucinda took her seat. Her gaze casually swept across the table.
Hestia sat beside her parents, now dressed in a white dress, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, makeup flawless.
The moment Hestia saw Lucinda walk in, her expression had frozen completely. Her pupils constricted slightly, as if she'd been nailed to her chair.
It's her?
The woman who'd gripped her wrist hard enough to leave red marks, forced her to apologize, and donated her money to a rural elementary school in her name?
She never imagined that the long-lost real daughter of her uncle's family… was her.
Hestia's fingers clenched the napkin on her lap.
She opened her mouth to say something, but her throat felt blocked. Not a single word came out.
Yvonne didn't notice her daughter's expression. She pulled out a deep red velvet box from her bag.
She opened it. Inside lay a pair of gemstone bracelets of exceptional quality, gleaming softly under the lights. "Cindy, this is a small token from me. Keep it. Wear it when you get married someday. It'll look beautiful."
She then pulled out a document from the side and placed it on the table. "And this—the estate in Suncrest City. It's been transferred to your name. It's just sitting empty anyway. Whenever you want to stay there, it's yours. I've had it cleaned and prepared for you."
Lucinda looked at the two items, her lips curving slightly. "Thank you, Aunt Yvonne. Thank you, Uncle Quinton. This is too much."