Chapter 45
Lucinda was escorted into the inner dining area.
The Velvet Fork's interior was more classical than La Perle Blanche—dark wood structures, warm amber lighting, every decorative piece looking like it had been handpicked from an antique shop.
She sat down, set the gift box on the chair beside her, and watched as dishes arrived one by one. Exquisite. Meticulous. The flavors were genuinely excellent.
But after a few bites, she quietly made a comparison in her mind.
Not as good as La Perle Blanche.
She'd personally selected the menu at La Perle Blanche. She'd recruited the chefs herself. She even knew which brand of soy sauce they used.
That was her place. Of course it tasted different.
She set down her utensils and wiped the corner of her mouth.
Reginald sat across from her, his gaze never leaving her face. "Finished?"
"Yes."
"You didn't like it?" A hint of nervousness crept into his tone.
"I did. But—" Lucinda paused, leaving the rest unsaid. "Let's go."
Reginald looked at her but didn't move.
He reached for a document beside him and slid it across the table.
Lucinda glanced down. It was an equity transfer agreement for The Velvet Fork. The transferor was listed as the Lancaster Group. The transferee column was blank.
Her brow furrowed slightly. She looked up at him.
"You didn't accept La Perle Blanche last time." Reginald's tone was earnest, as if he were explaining something he'd thought through carefully. "This place is good too. Different style. You can alternate between the two."
Lucinda looked at him, silent for two seconds.
"I have places to eat." She pushed the document back, picked up the gift box, and stood. "You don't need to see me out. I'll leave on my own."
Reginald's expression stiffened for a moment. He felt like a carefully prepared gift had been gently set aside.
He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately just collected the document and followed her outside.
Outside the hotel entrance, Lucinda pulled out her phone and opened a ride-hailing app, entering an address.
Rosewood Village—a village on the far outskirts of Starlight City.
Reginald stood beside her, glancing down at her phone screen. He said nothing, but his feet didn't move.
Lucinda requested a ride. Half a minute passed. No one accepted.
Another minute. Still no one.
The location was too remote. At this hour, it was even harder to find a driver.
"I'll take you."
Reginald's voice came from beside her.
"No need—"
"You won't get a ride." He cut her off, already pulling open the car door. "Come on. I'll take you wherever you need to go."
Lucinda looked at him. He stood by the car door, expression serious, his gaze full of quiet determination—as if he simply wanted to be with her.
She stayed silent for a moment, then bent down and got in.
The door closed. The car drove out of the city center, heading toward the outskirts.
The road grew quieter. The streetlights became sparser. The scenery outside the window shifted from skyscrapers to fields, then from fields to mountain silhouettes.
Lucinda leaned back in her seat, watching the night blur past the window.
The car hit a bump. Her body swayed slightly.
A hand reached over, gently gripping her arm, steadying her.
Reginald's hand slid from her arm to her hand. He hesitated for a moment, then wrapped his fingers around hers.
His palm was dry and warm, his fingers long and strong, enveloping her hand completely.
Lucinda looked down at their intertwined hands, then up at him.
He was staring straight ahead at the road, expression perfectly serious—but the tips of his ears were red.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Making sure you don't fall." His tone was matter-of-fact.
Lucinda glanced at the smooth floor of the car, then at her hand held firmly in his. Her mouth twitched.
She didn't pull away. Didn't say anything. She turned her head and continued looking out the window.
The car window reflected his profile. He was still looking ahead, but the corner of his mouth was lifted, a smile spreading from his eyes—impossible to suppress.
The car drove for nearly an hour before finally arriving at Rosewood Village.
It was called a village, but the environment and conditions were far better than expected.
A paved road led to the village entrance. On either side were newly built houses with white walls and dark tile roofs. Streetlights glowed softly. The air carried a fresh, sweet scent of grass and trees.
"We're here." Lucinda withdrew her hand, picked up the gift box beside her, and pushed open the car door. "You should head back. I have something to take care of."
Reginald got out of the car as well, standing at the village entrance and looking inside. "What is it?"
"None of your business." Lucinda took a step forward, then stopped and looked back at him. "Don't follow me."
Reginald stood where he was, watching her.
His expression carried a hint of hurt, like a large dog left behind by its owner.
But he didn't follow. He just stood by the car and nodded. "Then be careful. When you're done, call me. I'll come pick you up."
"No need. I'll get back on my own."
"Then I'll wait here."
Lucinda looked at him for a moment, said nothing more, and turned to walk into the village.
She carried the gift box into the village, turned past a few old locust trees, and stopped in front of a beautiful farmhouse.
White walls, dark tiles. Purple wisteria climbed the courtyard wall. The stone steps at the entrance were swept clean.
"Mr. Cooper." She pushed open the door and called out.
Hurried footsteps sounded from inside. An elderly man emerged from the inner room.
In his seventies, his hair completely white, but his back was straight as a board, his eyes clear and bright.
When he saw Lucinda, his eyes lit up instantly, and he smiled like a child. "Cindy! What brings you here?"
Lucinda held up the gift in her hand, her lips curving. "I brought you a few things."
Heath took the bag and looked inside.
Several packages of his favorite tea, a few boxes of his usual medicine, and some old-brand pastries.
His eyes reddened slightly, but he chided her anyway. "You didn't have to bring anything."
"Won't spoil if you don't finish it right away." Lucinda looped her arm through his and walked inside with him. "How have you been feeling lately?"
"Great." Heath patted the back of her hand. "You're the only one who remembers me. Those brats I taught? Don't see them once a year."
Lucinda helped him sit in a wicker chair, then sat on a small stool beside him.
Heath looked at her, his gaze distant.
Lucinda was the person he was closest to in this world.
Over a decade ago, one winter, he'd been walking by the river when he slipped and fell into the icy water.
This little girl—barely ten years old—had jumped in without a word and pulled him out.
Later, he'd asked what she wanted as thanks. She'd said she wanted to learn business.
So he'd taught her everything he knew about commerce—bit by bit.
She learned quickly. Understood with just a hint. Smarter than anyone he'd ever taught.
He'd never married. His heart belonged only to a youthful love who'd passed away long ago. After that, he never remarried.
After retirement, he'd returned to the countryside and built this home. Worried he'd be lonely, Lucinda had hired caretakers for him. And she herself visited every few days—keeping him company, listening to his stories from his younger years.
All his assets—he'd already written a will. Everything would go to her.
"Is the company going smoothly?" he asked.
"Smoothly."
Heath nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Good. You're better than all those senior apprentices of mine."
Lucinda said nothing. She just refilled his teacup.
The two chatted all afternoon. She had tea with him, then listened as he told stories from his youth for over an hour.
Sunlight poured through the window, landing on Heath's silver hair. He spoke with enthusiasm. She listened attentively.
A little past three in the afternoon, Lucinda stood to leave.
Heath walked her to the door, holding her hand and giving her instructions for ages before reluctantly letting go.
Lucinda left the courtyard and walked back along the path she'd come from.
The sunset painted the horizon orange-red. The shadows of trees lining the village road stretched long.
She reached the village entrance. Her steps suddenly stopped.
The black Maybach was still parked in the same spot.
Reginald leaned against the car door, his coat draped over his arm, looking down at his phone.
At the sound of footsteps, he looked up. The moment he saw her, his eyes lit up.
He straightened and strode toward her.
Lucinda looked at him, slightly surprised. "You've been waiting here this whole time?"
"Yes." His tone was casual.