Chapter 229
"It's not too much." Yvonne gripped her hand. "You've suffered so much all these years out there. My heart aches just thinking about it. These things are nothing. Just accept them."
Lucinda nodded, slipped the bracelets onto her wrist, and tucked the document into her bag.
Hestia sat across the table, watching her mother fasten the bracelets onto Lucinda's wrist with a face full of affection, watching her father nod with a smile, watching her uncle and aunt gaze on with satisfaction.
Her fingers slowly clenched on her lap. The resentment in her eyes nearly spilled over.
She took a deep breath and forcibly swallowed the emotions surging upward.
Yvonne turned her head and glanced at her. "Hestia, this is your cousin."
Hestia's lips moved, but she didn't want to say a word.
But seeing her mother's urging gaze and her uncle and aunt's expectant expressions, she finally squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth. "…Hello."
Lucinda lifted her eyes to glance at her, nodded, and replied calmly, "Hestia, hello."
The atmosphere in the room remained warm. No one noticed the subtle undercurrent between the two of them.
Hestia returned to her seat, lowered her head, and took a sip of water. The restlessness in her chest only deepened.
Just then, the door to the private room was pushed open again.
Reginald walked in.
His gaze immediately swept across the round table and landed precisely on Lucinda. The faint coldness in his eyes melted away in an instant.
He walked straight over and sat down in the empty seat beside her. Naturally, he leaned slightly toward her and asked in a low voice, "Traffic was backed up for a bit. Have you eaten yet?"
"Not yet."
He nodded, reached out, and put on a pair of gloves from the table.
He picked up a shrimp from the plate in front of him and began peeling it.
His movements were steady. The shell came off cleanly. He placed the peeled shrimp meat into the small dish in front of her—neat and efficient.
Valencia watched this and couldn't help but smile. She exchanged a glance with Wesley, the smile at the corner of her mouth impossible to suppress.
Just then, the door to the private room was pushed open again.
This time, it was Milton.
He wore a navy-blue sweater, his hair still slightly damp, as if he'd just rushed over from the research institute.
The moment he entered, he looked for Lucinda. Seeing her seated beside Reginald, his brow twitched slightly, but he said nothing. He walked straight over and sat down on her other side.
"Cindy, this is for you." He placed a glass in front of her. The juice inside was a light orange color, bright and fresh, carrying the crisp scent of oranges. "I squeezed it myself. Added just a little honey. Try it."
Lucinda glanced down at the juice, then at Milton. She took the glass and sipped. "It's good."
Milton's lips immediately curved upward, as if he'd received the highest praise. His whole demeanor brightened.
The atmosphere in the room grew even warmer.
Yvonne held her teacup, watching Reginald peel shrimp for Lucinda and Milton pour her juice. The smile in her eyes deepened.
She turned to glance at Quinton. The two of them saw the same meaning reflected in each other's eyes.
This child—she's truly cherished in the Douglas family.
Hestia sat between her parents. A full table of dishes lay before her, but every single one tasted bland.
Dahlia sat on the other side of the round table. Exquisite bowls and plates were arranged in front of her, but she'd barely touched her utensils.
She watched Valencia hold Lucinda's hand and refuse to let go. She watched her aunt fasten the gemstone bracelets onto Lucinda's wrist. She watched Milton walk over with juice and sit beside Lucinda. She watched every gaze at the table follow that direction.
She looked down at the dish in front of her—already cold—and her fingers slowly tightened around her utensils.
She'd stayed with the Douglas family for twenty years. At every family banquet, every gathering, she'd been the one seated beside the head of the table.
The elders praised her for being sensible, well-behaved, polite.
But all those compliments combined couldn't compare to the light that had sparked in Valencia's eyes the moment Lucinda walked in.
That light—it was impossible to hide.
Dahlia lowered her eyes and speared a piece of fish with her fork.
She chewed twice. It had no flavor.
She set down her utensils and reached for the sauce dish in front of her, wanting to add some taste to her bowl.
She didn't notice that Hestia's gaze had been fixed on her the entire time.
A smug smile played at Hestia's lips. While pretending to pass a dish to Lucinda across the table, she discreetly swapped the ordinary dipping sauce in front of her with the one in front of Dahlia.
Dahlia was completely unaware. She scooped a spoonful of sauce into her bowl, speared a piece of shrimp, dipped it, and put it in her mouth.
The next second, her entire face flushed red.
A searing, fiery burn exploded from the tip of her tongue—like she'd swallowed molten iron. It shot straight up her throat and into her nasal cavity.
Tears immediately welled in her eyes. She covered her mouth, bent over, and began coughing violently.
The spice choked her so badly tears streamed down her face. Her throat burned and went numb, as if someone had stuffed a handful of crushed chili peppers down it.
She reached for her water glass, but her fingers refused to cooperate. She knocked over the teacup on the table instead.
Tea spilled everywhere. The white porcelain cup rolled off the edge and shattered into pieces on the floor.
And just as she bent over coughing, the shrimp meat in her mouth suddenly exploded with another indescribable flavor.
Sour, bitter, and spicy all at once—mixed together like a tiny bomb detonating in her mouth.
She clutched her mouth, her body swaying to the side. Her shoulder struck the edge of the table. Several bowls and plates in front of her slid off with a loud crash, shattering on the floor.
The laughter in the room came to an abrupt halt.
Valencia was the first to stand. She hurried over to Dahlia and steadied her. "Dahlia! What's wrong? Did you eat something bad?"
Dahlia's face was flushed red. She covered her mouth, unable to speak. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smudging her makeup.
After coughing for a while, she finally caught her breath. She lifted her tear-blurred eyes and looked across the table—
Hestia was holding her teacup leisurely, a faint smile curving her lips.
Dahlia's eyes widened. She understood instantly.
Hestia—she did it on purpose!
She wanted to say something, but her throat was on fire. She couldn't squeeze out a single word.
Yvonne also stood, frowning as she glanced at the overturned sauce dish on the table. "What happened? Who put the chili oil in the wrong place?"
Hestia set down her teacup, her tone laced with perfectly measured concern. "What happened to Dahlia? Was that sauce too spicy? I heard she doesn't usually eat spicy food. Next time, we'll get her something milder."
She tilted her head slightly. A flash of amusement flickered in her eyes.