Chapter 29

At that moment.

“Ugh… I’m drunk.”

Grenville, face bright red, mumbled as he slumped onto the table.

“Oh, Grenville. I told you not to drink so much.”

Blake clicked his tongue and shook Grenville’s shoulder.

“Can you get up? What an embarrassment in front of a lady.”

But Grenville was already snoring, completely out of it.

Celia’s eyes widened in surprise, and Blake laughed, a little embarrassed.

“Attorney Grenville is always weak with alcohol. He often does this at pubs… If we leave him for about thirty minutes, he’ll wake up. Shall we just wait?”

Celia nodded, having no choice.

So, with Grenville passed out from drinking, Blake and Celia began to talk.

“So, what will you do next?”

Blake smiled as he continued.

“When you win and sell Evans Hotel, you’ll be quite a wealthy widow.”

Celia answered calmly.

“I plan to go to my grandmother’s house in the South.”

“The South?”

“Yes. New Adams is too dangerous for a woman alone. And it’s expensive.”

Blake asked, puzzled.

“But you could live a more glamorous life here in New Adams, couldn’t you? Go on a grand tour, run salons, all sorts of things.”

Celia smiled softly and shook her head.

“I wish I could, but that’s out of reach for me. I have debts you don’t know about, Mr. Ryan.”

“Debts?”

Blake raised an eyebrow. Pressured to explain, Celia sighed and spoke.

“First, I have to pay the guarantee debt to Mr. Santines. Then the bank debts I took on to help Charles, and money borrowed from Margaret and other friends.”

“I see.”

“Of course, I also owe Grenville a success fee, and I want to repay everyone who helped me…”

‘She plans to give away everything.’

Blake leaned his elbow and looked at Celia.

“And then, I’ll give half of what’s left to my father.”

Blake’s eyes sharpened at that.

“To Scott Lancaster? Why?”

“Well, it’s custom here that a daughter’s wealth ultimately belongs to her father.”

“What do you mean?”

Blake looked incredulous. Celia realized she needed to explain more and spoke calmly.

“In the New World, a woman can legally own property in her name. But it’s only a formal right.”

“A formal right?”

“Yes. To sell a house or dispose of land, you need your father’s or male guardian’s signature. So whenever I want to use my wealth, it has to go through my father.”

“So the law allows it, but custom holds you back.”

Blake nodded and murmured low.

“Is there no way for you to exercise your property rights independently?”

“There is. If I get operating rights.”

“Operating rights?”

“If my father allows, I can freely manage my property within his limits. Usually, you deposit a certain amount in the bank for interest, or set up a foundation so you get a pension.”

Blake gave a dry laugh.

“So that too needs Scott Lancaster’s signature.”

“Yes. But he won’t sign easily…”

Celia sighed deeply.

“I plan to give him about half of what’s left and ask for the operating rights for the rest.”

Celia’s plan was reasonable in many ways.

Scott Lancaster was working hard for the governor’s re-election next spring. If Celia offered to fill his financial gaps, he’d have to agree. He’d feel he’d gotten back some of the money lost because of her.

But for Blake, it was a disaster. He intended to approach Scott Lancaster under the pretext of providing political funds. For that, Scott needed to be desperate and penniless, so financial relief was the last thing Blake wanted.

Moreover, Blake couldn’t understand Celia. She seemed to have plenty of debt, and even if Evans Hotel was big, not much would be left after settling everything. Yet she planned to give precious wealth to the father who oppressed and exploited her?

Blake decided to buy Evans Hotel because, in the end, the money would return to him. Not a single penny should go to someone like Scott Lancaster, especially if it passed through Celia’s name.

Annoyed, Blake spoke bluntly.

“I don’t understand. You’re giving hard-won wealth to the father who beat and threw you out?”

Celia stammered in embarrassment.

“But there’s no other way. No matter how much I have, if my father won’t sign the operating rights, I can’t even write a check.”

“Well. There’s always a way if you make one.”

Blake propped his chin and sighed softly.

‘I need to speed up my plan.’

He originally intended to advance the relationship after the lawsuit, but at this rate, everything could be lost—because of a woman who’s generous to a fault.

‘I didn’t expect her to be this naive.’

Even if he handed her Evans Hotel, she’d pay debts, repay people, and give a share to her father. Where to even begin coaching her?

‘Does she not have any desire for herself?’

Indeed, dressed in simple mourning, hair neatly pinned up, she looked like a saint from a religious painting.

‘Even in this heat, she won’t loosen a single button.’

Her neck stretched above the black collar looked warm. Strands of hair near her ear were damp with beads of sweat.

“Miss Lancaster. Are you very warm?”

Blake leaned toward Celia and asked.

“Should I open the window? Or your hair…”

He reached lightly to open the window behind her. Celia stiffened.

“……”

Blake gazed at her.

She was flushed all over. Her cheeks, reddened ears, even the nape of her neck where a few strands of hair had fallen.

What was she thinking?

Blake guessed and gave a small smile, turning his hand away from the window with a hint of mischief.

His cool fingers touched her ear, and Celia’s shoulders shivered. Blake whispered, “Shh,” and began to gently pull away the damp strands one by one.

“…It would be a problem if Attorney Grenville woke up.”

Celia nodded quietly, her face burning. Blake, feeling the heat, carefully tucked her hair behind her ear.

His long fingers traced a slow circle around her rounded ear. Down behind her ear, his fingertips pressed her soft earlobe before slowly letting go. Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away during the whole process. She just lowered her eyes, trembling but staying still.

How long would she endure?

Blake smiled mischievously and let his hand drift down the line of her neck. Each touch made her flinch, yet she let him touch her, and he wondered how long she’d stay still.

Her slender neck was unbelievably soft. Like summer fruit, the tender skin reddened at the slightest touch. Blake soothed the shrinking woman, gently expanding his territory, his green eyes growing darker as he watched the traces he left fade.

He persistently caressed under her jaw, and her chest, wrapped in black mourning, swelled with each breath. He knew well what color her skin would be if he undid those tight buttons. He exhaled hotly.

When his warm fingers touched her lips, her mouth finally opened slightly.

“Mr. Ryan…”

Her trembling voice through pink lips, her moist eyes, somehow stirred the man.

A nameless impulse rose deep in Blake’s throat. He grabbed her jaw.

Her eyes widened, blue veins showing on her neck. As Blake pulled her closer—