Chapter 293 You Already Know?

Chapter 293 You Already Know?
Serena Sinclair's POV:

"Thank you for having me," I replied, extending my carefully selected gifts. My hands trembled slightly, betraying my nervousness. "I brought these for you and your family."

Mrs. Kingston accepted them graciously, her manicured hands brushing against mine. "How thoughtful of you." She handed the packages to the waiting housekeeper, an older woman with a stern but not unkind face. "Please, take these to the kitchen."

The housekeeper nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"And prepare some hot tea and appetizers for our guests," Mrs. Kingston added, her tone polite but commanding. "The Earl Grey, I think, and those shortbread cookies from the French bakery."

"Right away, ma'am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

"Please, have a seat," Mrs. Kingston gestured toward the leather sofa in the living room.

I perched on the edge of the sofa, too nervous to fully relax. The leather was buttery soft against my palms as I smoothed my skirt nervously. Instinctively, I glanced back at Phillip, seeking reassurance. He gave me a subtle nod and encouraging smile that silently said, You're doing fine.

"Actually," Mrs. Kingston began, "I've had a favorable impression of you from the beginning. Your professional accomplishments speak for themselves."
She paused, her eyes studying me carefully. "If not for your history with the Blackwood family, you would have been my ideal choice for a daughter-in-law."

I nearly choked on air. The directness of her comment caught me completely off-guard. My cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation.

"Mother," Phillip interjected sharply, his normally composed voice taking on an edge I rarely heard. "Let's not discuss that now."

Mrs. Kingston's expression softened, though whether from genuine regret or simply acquiescing to her son, I couldn't tell. "Of course. No need to dwell on unpleasant matters." She folded her hands in her lap.

"Phillip's father is in his study," Mrs. Kingston said after taking a sip of tea. "I'm sure he'd like to meet you as well."

We followed her through a maze of hallways lined with family portraits and priceless artifacts. I caught glimpses of Phillip as a child in some of the photos—always serious, always impeccably dressed, even then. One particular photo caught my eye—a teenage Phillip standing stiffly beside a much younger Katherine, her smile mischievous even then.

Mr. Kingston's study reminded me of something from an old British period drama—dark wood paneling, leather-bound books lining built-in shelves, and a massive oak desk that dominated the space. He sat reading documents through gold-rimmed glasses, his silver hair and strong jawline marking him clearly as Phillip's father. He stood when we entered, his resemblance to Phillip striking—the same commanding presence, though tempered by age and experience.

"Father," Phillip greeted him, presenting a wrapped package. "A small token of appreciation."

Mr. Kingston unwrapped it carefully, revealing what I recognized as a rare print. His eyes widened slightly—the only indication that the gift exceeded his expectations.
"Excellent choice, son. This will complement my collection beautifully."

His gaze turned to me, appraising but not unkind. "So you're the young lawyer who's captured my son's attention." He gestured toward an armchair. "Please, sit."

"I've heard you graduated with honors from Yale Law," Mr. Kingston said, leaning back in his chair.

I straightened my posture, falling back on my professional confidence when my personal courage wavered. "Yes, I was fortunate enough to study under Professor Steven. His guidance was invaluable."

"Ah, Steven. Brilliant mind." He nodded approvingly. "We've collaborated on several legal education initiatives over the years. If he thinks highly of you, that carries significant weight."

"Phillip tells me you're one of the most talented young lawyers he's encountered," he continued, his gaze shifting between his son and me.

Phillip's hand found mine, his thumb tracing small circles against my palm. "She has exceptional potential in corporate and international trade law. Her analysis of the Wilson merger case was what first caught my attention."

I felt a flush of pride at his praise, remembering the hours I'd spent on that particular case study.

"That's quite a compliment," Mr. Kingston remarked, his expression thoughtful. His eyes shifted to his son. "Now I understand why you've postponed expanding our international practice to remain in New York this past year."

The revelation startled me. Phillip had stayed in New York... for me? I glanced at him, but his expression revealed nothing beyond a slight tightening around his eyes. How much of his life had he rearranged for my sake without ever mentioning it?

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, followed by rapid footsteps clicking against marble floors. When we returned to the living room, Katherine stood there, designer shopping bags at her feet, her rain-dampened hair framing her face. She wore a fashionable trench coat and knee-high boots that probably cost more than my monthly salary.

Her eyes locked on me immediately. Unlike our previous encounters, her expression wasn't hostile—merely curious, with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised slightly. "Well, well," she said, her voice perfectly modulated. "The family gathering I wasn't informed about."

"Katherine," Mrs. Kingston approached her daughter quickly, anxiety evident in her rapid steps. "Come with me for a moment. I'd like to speak with you privately."

Katherine's lips curved into a knowing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What's there to discuss privately? Phillip, we don't have outsiders here today, do we?"

Phillip's posture tensed beside me, his hand reflexively tightening around mine.

"Mother," Katherine continued, shrugging off her wet coat and handing it to the waiting housekeeper. "Whatever you want to say, just say it here. We're all family now, aren't we?" Her tone carried a hint of something I couldn't quite identify—not exactly sarcasm, but something adjacent to it.

"You already know?" Phillip asked cautiously, his voice carefully neutral.

Katherine laughed lightly, the sound like wind chimes—beautiful but somehow hollow. She didn't directly answer Phillip's question, instead glancing down at her wet clothes with theatrical dismay. "It's absolutely pouring outside. I need to change. My clothes are completely soaked."

She grabbed her shopping bags and headed for the stairs, giving us a meaningful look that sent chills down my spine despite the warmth of the room. The ambiguity of her expression left me wondering exactly what she knew and how she felt about it.

Once she disappeared upstairs, Phillip turned to his mother. "I'll go check on her."

"Alright," I said, trying to mask my unease. The prospect of being left alone with his parents made my stomach twist, but I knew that letting Katherine stew in whatever emotions she was hiding would be worse.

Mrs. Kingston nodded. "I'll keep Serena company. Take your time."

As Phillip ascended the staircase, I found myself alone with his parents, the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. The brief moment of comfort I'd felt had evaporated with Katherine's arrival. Something about her calm demeanor felt more threatening than any outburst would have been.

Mrs. Kingston topped off my tea cup with practiced grace. "More tea, dear? And do try the shortbread—it's imported from Scotland."