Chapter 263

Chapter 263

Stepping out of the Wipere Group building.

The afternoon sun was blinding. Lucinda stood at the top of the steps, swaying slightly.

The moment her nerves finally released their iron grip, exhaustion crashed over her like a wave.

The next second, a warm, solid embrace caught her.

Reginald's eyes were full of aching tenderness.

He bent down, lifted her into his arms, and carried her toward the Maybach.

Aiden pulled the door open immediately.

Inside, the air conditioning was set just right.

Reginald settled into the back seat with her cradled against him, one hand moving slowly, gently through her hair. "Sleep."

Lucinda breathed in his familiar scent. Her eyelids grew too heavy to fight.

She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and finally closed her eyes.

Reginald didn't move. He held the position as one side of his body gradually went numb.

He stayed like that, gazing down at the girl in his arms, at the dark circles ringing her eyes, his own eyes overflowing with tenderness and heartache.

She slept until dark.

Dusk settled as the car eased through the gates of the Douglas Estate.

Lucinda's lashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes.

"You're up?" Reginald dipped his head, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead, his voice faintly hoarse.

Lucinda shifted, only then realizing she'd been lying in his arms the entire time.

"Did it go numb?" Her voice was soft and muffled.

"No." Warmth filled Reginald's eyes. "I could hold you forever and it wouldn't."

Lucinda smiled faintly, sat up, and smoothed her clothes. "Let's go in."

The Douglas Estate blazed with warm light.

At the sound of the car, her parents and Milton were at the door almost instantly.

Valencia came forward with a smile and took her hand. "Hungry? I had the kitchen make all your favorites. The short rib soup has been simmering all afternoon."

Lucinda let herself be led inside. Reginald followed. Wesley and Milton were already waiting at the table.

It was covered in food. Milton ladled her a bowl of soup. Wesley slid the short ribs toward her side of the table. Reginald sat beside her and quietly added food to her plate.

Lucinda lifted the bowl and took a sip. The soup was warm and faintly sweet.

She speared a piece of short rib and ate slowly.

Valencia watched her the whole time. Only when she saw her drink the soup and work through the food did she finally exhale.

Up at the second-floor landing, Dahlia leaned against the wall, half hidden in shadow.

She peered down through the banister, watching Lucinda at the table—utensils moving steadily, exchanging a few quiet words with Milton, her tone the same as always.

Dahlia's grip tightened on the railing.

What was this? Her grandmother had just died.

The old woman who had raised her for twenty years, who had been by her side for twenty years—gone for barely three days.

And she could still eat? Still sleep?

Dahlia bit her lower lip, resentment rising in her eyes.

She'd been waiting to see Lucinda fall apart. Waiting to see her shattered, so their parents could finally see this woman was no different from anyone else.

But there was nothing.

She ate. She talked. She sat there accepting everyone's care as if nothing had happened.

"Heartless," Dahlia muttered bitterly under her breath.

The warm light above the table glowed steadily.

Lucinda set down her utensils. The bowl was empty.

She looked up and caught Valencia still watching her. Her lips curved. "Mom. I'm full."

Valencia snapped out of it and nodded quickly. "Good. Want a little more?"

"I'm fine."

Wesley put down his bowl. He looked at her, hesitated, then spoke. "Cindy, we've taken care of everything for your grandmother. The burial site is on the hillside west of the city. Your mother went to look at it—says it's quiet there. Nice view."

Lucinda's fingers paused on the table for just a moment. Then she nodded. "Thank you, Dad."

"Don't thank me." Wesley waved it off. "Remember—the Douglas family will always have your back."

Under the table, Reginald's hand found hers. His palm was warm and dry. He said nothing.

Lucinda didn't pull away.

Late that night, she returned to her room. The moment she closed the door, she leaned back against it and stood there for a while.

She breathed in deeply, steadied herself, then turned off the light.

In the dark, she lay staring at the ceiling for a while, then turned and pressed her face into the pillow.

'Grandma. I'll be okay.'

The next morning, Lucinda had barely finished washing up when her phone on the nightstand began buzzing relentlessly.

She raised an eyebrow, swiped to answer, and brought it to her ear. "Master."

"Cindy." Royce's voice on the other end carried a smile. "The results from the last exam came out. You ranked first in the country. I assume you know?"

"I know."

"As usual, the top ten nationally are invited to study at the International Research Institute—the one under my name. Honestly, given where you are right now, coming to study is neither here nor there. You don't really need to sit in a classroom with those students." He paused, a faint note of something testing in his tone. "That said, I've just brought in a new batch of equipment. A few rather interesting pieces. If you happen to be at a loose end, you're welcome to come take a look."

Lucinda leaned back in her chair, phone in hand.

The International Research Institute was Royce's creation. The country's top scientific minds fought tooth and nail for a spot. Even national academy fellows paid out of pocket to visit as exchange researchers.

Only ten annual slots. Competition that bordered on brutal.

But she genuinely didn't need it.

Everything she was working on right now ran circles around whatever any advanced seminar could offer.

And yet Royce was asking her to come.

Lucinda was quiet for two seconds. Then, "Alright. I'll come."

A beat of silence on the other end.

Then Royce's voice jumped half an octave. "Really? You're actually coming?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I'll have your workstation cleared out, and that one thing you mentioned liking last time—"

"Master." Lucinda cut him off, a helpless smile in her voice. "I'll be there the day after tomorrow."

"Good, good. The day after tomorrow." His voice couldn't contain the delight. He rambled on for another minute before finally hanging up.

Lucinda set down her phone. The screen went dark.

Outside the window, night had fully fallen. Streetlights blinked on in a long row, like a string of soft, warm beads.

She'd barely set the phone on the desk when a knock came at her door.

"Cindy, are you busy?" Valencia's voice drifted in, carrying a warmth that wasn't quite natural.

Lucinda got up and opened the door.

Valencia stood in the doorway. Wesley was half a step behind her. Both of their expressions were slightly off.

Valencia's smile was there, but something underneath it looked uncertain.

Wesley held a cup of hot water, standing behind his wife, his gaze not quite settling anywhere.

"Mom, Dad." Lucinda looked between them. "Something wrong?"