Chapter229 The One Behind My Brother's Accident
Late night. The Lancaster mansion.
Dominic had been feeling guilty about Ariana, and Evelyn's sulking all day had only made his mood worse. He ended up transferring her two million just to shut her up.
The moment the transaction notification chimed on her phone, Evelyn's face finally relaxed into a smile.
In the master bedroom, the crystal chandelier cast a warm, soft glow.
Dominic watched her, barely hiding his irritation. "Happy now? I didn't want to give Miranda that villa either. But compared to the company's reputation, compared to my dignity, one villa means nothing."
Evelyn pressed herself against him, her voice soft and honeyed. "I know. The money doesn't even matter. I just feel for you. Your own daughter using that against you... that must have hurt."
The words hit exactly where she intended.
The tension in Dominic's chest eased, replaced by a deeper resentment toward Miranda.
Before that thought could settle, he felt a slow, tingling warmth bloom across his chest.
He looked down. Evelyn's finger was tracing lazy circles over his heart.
"Alright." He caught her hand, his voice dropping low. "You've been here a while. Arabella isn't in the room tonight, but if she finds out you came to the master bedroom this late, it won't look good."
Evelyn rolled her eyes inwardly. On the outside, she let a slow, seductive smile curl across her lips. "Isn't that what makes it exciting?"
Her arms slid up around his neck, her gaze heavy with invitation.
Dominic's breath caught.
He thought about it. He had already given up on this family.
His son. His daughter. Both of them, one after another, infuriating him, pushing him, bleeding him dry.
The things he had handed over these past few months would have made any CEO wince. And it made him sick.
Then there was Arabella. Cold. Lifeless. Not a spark of warmth left between them. He was long past done with her.
A cruel thought crept in. Maybe it would be better if Arabella walked in and saw this. Better yet, if the shock sent her to bed and kept her there permanently.
Then he could have Evelyn openly. Make her the true lady of the Lancaster name.
The thought pushed him over the edge.
Dominic pulled Evelyn up and carried her across the room, dropping her onto the bed he shared with Arabella. Then he covered her with his body.
The next morning. The Prescott estate.
Miranda woke wrapped in warmth, her body still carrying the pleasant ache of the night before. Faint but unmistakable.
She vaguely remembered Clifton carrying her to the bathroom when it was over, cleaning her up with careful, unhurried hands.
Flashes of the night came back. His low breaths. The heat of his skin. The things they had done together. A flush crept up her cheeks.
Twenty minutes later, she changed and headed downstairs.
She stopped the moment she reached the living room.
Two long rows of garment racks stood in the center, packed with dresses and suits of every style. A team of uniformed staff waited nearby.
"Good morning, Ms. Miranda." The lead stylist gave a polished bow.
Miranda stared at the racks. There had to be over twenty of them.
"I only ordered one outfit yesterday," she said, frowning. "A white suit."
The stylist smiled, a hint of admiration breaking through her professional composure. "Mr. Prescott called our flagship store himself last night and asked us to prepare a full selection. He wanted you to have choices. Shall we get started?"
Every piece was exceptional. The craftsmanship, the fabric, the cut. Nothing felt out of place.
It took a full hour before Miranda finally settled on a cream-colored suit. The tailoring was sharp, tracing the line of her waist without trying too hard. A butterfly stitched in silver thread spread across the lapel, mid-flight.
Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, she had to admit it. Clifton had taste.
Nearly every piece he had chosen was something she would have picked herself.
Thinking about him, she felt the corner of her mouth lift.
Then it hit her.
She still hadn't told him. The commercial association invitation. The one Harrison had given her.
She had held back last night because his mood was already dark, and she hadn't wanted to make it worse.
But now she hesitated.
If she told him, would he think she was still involved with Harrison?
A sharp, dismissive scoff cut through her thoughts.
She turned.
Celeste had just walked in through the front entrance.
One look at Miranda standing in the center of the room, surrounded by staff, glowing and effortlessly put-together, and Celeste's expression curdled with naked hatred.
This was all Miranda's fault.
Because of her, Isabella had been shipped off to some remote corner of the world. Because of her, Isabella had lost the use of one hand.
This woman had stolen everything that should have been Isabella's.
And now Arthur, who had already been difficult enough to get close to, was pulling away from Prescott because of Miranda's involvement. Last night Celeste had tried to take a drunk Arthur back to a hotel. He had refused flat out and let someone else take him instead. Someone Celeste despised.
She had been furious. And she had nowhere to put it.
Every bit of that rage, she laid at Miranda's feet.
Across the room, Miranda's expression shifted the moment she spotted Celeste.
The soft warmth that had been there a second ago disappeared entirely. What replaced it was cold. Completely, deliberately cold.
She didn't greet her. She didn't look away either. She just looked at her, and something sharp and merciless moved through her eyes.
Last night, Clifton had told her who was behind her brother's accident. The one who had nearly left him paralyzed.
It was Celeste.
Miranda had always known Celeste disliked her, had always been looking for ways to make her life harder. But she had never imagined Celeste would go after the people she loved most.
The moment Clifton said the name, something white and furious had roared through her.
She had wanted to walk straight to Celeste and make her answer for everything she had done to her brother.
But then Clifton kept talking. And what he said made her stop.