Chapter 27
Reginald's assistant stood frozen in the doorway, the hastily prepared annulment documents still clutched in his hand. His expression was priceless.
'Weren't we supposed to be calling off the engagement?'
He glanced down at the papers, then at his boss, who looked like he'd drag Lucinda to the altar right this second if he could. Silently, the assistant slid the documents back into his briefcase and took a step backward, pretending he'd seen nothing.
Wesley looked from Reginald to Lucinda, and the last of his worry melted away.
Everyone in the business world knew Reginald Lancaster was a man of his word. He never made promises lightly.
If he'd come here in person to say this, he meant it.
Besides, when the two families had arranged the engagement years ago, Wesley and Valencia had chosen Reginald specifically—steady and composed beyond his years, exceptionally capable. You couldn't find a second young man like him in all of Starlight City.
Now that he'd taken the initiative to marry Cindy, Wesley couldn't have been more satisfied with the match.
Valencia had caught on too. The tension on her face had transformed into a smile she couldn't hide.
She studied Reginald. The more she looked, the more pleased she became.
This son-in-law—she'd been the one to pick him out all those years ago.
The couple exchanged a glance and saw identical satisfaction reflected in each other's eyes.
Lucinda sat on the sofa, still holding the tissue she'd used to wipe her mouth. She listened to the conversation between her parents and Reginald, and surprise flickered through her eyes.
Was Reginald her fiancé?
"Since Mr. Lancaster puts it that way." Wesley nodded, his tone returning to the steady authority of the Douglas family patriarch. "The engagement will proceed as you say. It was always meant to be with the Douglas family's daughter. Now that Cindy's home, the engagement naturally falls to her."
Valencia nodded repeatedly beside him, beaming.
In the corner, Dahlia gripped the stair railing so hard her knuckles went white.
Her face was ashen, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked like a taut string about to snap.
"Annul the engagement with the adopted daughter. Fulfill the engagement with the Douglas family's true heiress."
Every word was a knife, cutting into her chest one slice at a time.
The moment Lucinda came back, everything was taken from her.
The engagement had been hers. Lucinda took it.
Her parents' love had been hers. Lucinda took that too.
And now even the Lancaster family—her biggest support—was being stolen by Lucinda.
Why? What gave Lucinda the right?
Dahlia's nails dug into her palms until her eyes stung with tears.
In the living room, Reginald's gaze never left Lucinda.
The corner of his mouth curved upward, and his eyes shone with startling brightness.
"There's one more thing." His voice softened. "After my father woke up today, he kept asking for you. His health still needs your help. Would you—"
Lucinda looked at him.
He stood there in his charcoal coat, not yet removed, the evening chill still clinging to his shoulders. But the way he looked at her was impossibly tender.
She'd been about to refuse. The words were on the tip of her tongue when she remembered Hayden's pale face.
"I'll come see him tomorrow," she said.
Reginald's smile broke free. It spread from his eyes upward until even the corners crinkled with pleasure.
He looked at her, his gaze brimming with joy he couldn't contain. "Good. I'll pick you up tomorrow."
Wesley and Valencia exchanged another glance, reading the same thought in each other's eyes.
This Reginald didn't seem like the ruthless business tyrant they'd heard so much about.
Reginald stood to leave. Wesley and Valencia walked him to the door.
He stepped through the gate, his stride light, the hem of his coat lifted slightly by the night breeze. Bathed in the glow from the manor's entrance lights, the smile still lingered on his lips.
"Mr. Lancaster."
A soft, fragile voice called from behind.
Reginald stopped and turned.
Dahlia emerged from the shadows of the portico, eyes red-rimmed, clutching her phone. She looked pitiful.
She approached him, head bowed, voice trembling. "Reginald, about today... I truly know I was wrong. I was deceived, too. Someone told me the medicine was prescribed by Dr. Sinclair herself. I was desperate to save him. I'm so, so sorry..."
She lifted her eyes, tears pooling. "I'm really worried about Mr. Lancaster's health. All these years, I've always respected him like family. Could you please let me visit him? I want to apologize to him in person and explain everything."
She fumbled with her phone, pulling up a chat history and holding it out to Reginald. "Look, Mr. Lancaster messaged me before. He said he was very pleased with me as a daughter-in-law and asked me to visit often. This time was truly an accident. I'll never do it again..."
The screen showed several messages from Hayden, warm in tone, conveying an elder's affection for a younger relative.
Reginald glanced down. His expression didn't change.
He lifted his gaze from the screen to Dahlia's face.
His look was calm. Calm enough that he might have been looking at a stranger.
"That won't be necessary," he said flatly. "You will never be a Lancaster daughter-in-law. As for my father, you needn't trouble yourself with visits."
Dahlia's face went deathly pale.
Reginald didn't look at her again. He turned and walked toward his car.
Dahlia stood rooted to the spot, phone still in her trembling grip, knuckles bone-white.
She watched his silhouette disappear behind the car door. The door closed. The engine started. Headlights flared. The car pulled away slowly and vanished into the night.
Her tears finally fell.
She'd spent twenty years in this house, doing everything perfectly, treading carefully at every turn.
Then Lucinda came back and stole everything Dahlia had painstakingly built—without even trying.
One by one, she lost them all. She didn't even have the right to fight back.
She wiped away her tears. The vulnerability in her eyes faded bit by bit, replaced by a hatred so thick it couldn't dissolve.
She stared at the direction the car had disappeared, lips pressed into a hard line, fingers clenched until her knuckles cracked.
This wasn't over.
She'd been in this house for twenty years. That wasn't for nothing.
Lucinda had been back a few days—what gave her the right to take everything?
The engagement, their parents, the Lancaster family—Dahlia would take them back. One by one.
She drew a deep breath, pocketed her phone, and turned toward the house.
Her steps were steady. Her spine was straight. The pitiful expression had vanished without a trace.
Upstairs, Lucinda returned to her room, closed the door, and set the little fox plushie on her pillow.
It tilted its hat, grinning that goofy grin.
She looked at it for two seconds. Her mouth curved slightly. Then she headed to the bathroom to wash up.
When she came back out, her phone screen lit up.
She picked it up. A friend notification.
It was from Reginald.
[Asleep yet?]
Lucinda stared at the message and paused.
She glanced at the time. Nearly eleven.
Were they really close enough for him to text her this late asking if she was asleep?
After a moment, out of politeness, she typed back: [About to sleep.]
She'd barely set her phone down when the screen lit up again.
[What time should I pick you up tomorrow?]
Lucinda looked at the screen and raised an eyebrow slightly.
Was he just looking for an excuse to keep talking?