Chapter 30

“Mm…”

Grenville, who had been slumped over, stirred and groaned.

“I think Mr. Grenville is waking up.”

Startled, Celia drew back.

“…I see. He must be sobering up now.”

Blake, who had lost his hold on her in an instant, lowered his hand, left suspended in the air. The sudden chill at his fingertips was sharp.

“I—I should go upstairs now.”

Celia stood up abruptly, rambling.

“It’s late… I have to get up early tomorrow… Mr. Grenville will understand if I leave first. Dinner lasted so long…”

“…Yes, let’s do that.”

Blake replied in a slightly hoarse voice.

But before he could even finish, Celia escaped the dining room as if fleeing. Left alone, Blake looked down at Grenville, still slumped beside him.

The fool, still snoring loudly, was deeply asleep. Blake resisted the urge to smack the back of Grenville’s head and poured wine into his empty glass.

D*mn it. He stopped me.

He gulped a mouthful of wine and relaxed his body. Leaning his head back, the small chandelier and sparkling ceiling came into view. Directly above that ceiling was the guest room where Celia stayed. The moment he realized it, a deep heat flared inside Blake’s throat again.

What is she doing now? Changing clothes, maybe.

Blake poured more wine into his parched mouth. But the bitter grape wine only wetted his mouth and vanished, unable to quench the burning thirst. He clenched and unclenched his hot hands, scratching the surface of the wine glass.

It was a heat that wouldn’t settle easily.

＊  ＊  ＊

The day of the jury’s verdict.

The morning air was distinctly cold. Celia stood by the window and drew the curtains with her fingertips.

‘Everything ends today.’

A pale sun hung in a cloudless sky—a fitting day for a trial where everything would be revealed.

Celia opened the newspaper and swallowed nervously.

[Woman robbed of love and fortune: Celia Lancaster’s desperate fight]

[From husband-eater to tragic widow: Lady Celia’s dramatic life]

[Twice scarred, third time victorious? Predicted verdict?]

After the second trial, the press began to side with her. They portrayed Celia Lancaster as a pitiful victim and an unbroken woman, and public opinion in New Adams shifted to her side.

But Celia herself was anxious. She knew the press was always a double-edged sword.

‘One small mistake and I’ll become gossip again.’

Celia looked in the mirror. Her pale face above the stiff mourning collar looked like a ghost.

‘Can I withstand all those gazes with this face?’

She’d grown used to it, but enduring the stares of the spectators was still hard. They’d called her a husband-eater, pitied her as a fallen lady.

‘I hate being stared at…’

Celia hugged herself and shivered. Then she recalled a memory from a few days before.

Blake Ryan. The way he looked at her without saying a word.

‘That… wasn’t bad.’

His hot, sensual gaze seemed to burn right through her, unwavering even when she tried to look away.

‘That’s why I did something so embarrassing.’

Celia covered her flushed face, remembering how Blake had tucked her hair behind her ear.

‘My breath really stopped. Or maybe it would have been better if it had.’

She had let Blake touch her neck. Because she liked his strong fingers, liked the warmth in his eyes, liked how his breathing drew closer…

If Grenville hadn’t snored, who knows what might have happened.

‘I’ll be in the audience for the next trial.’

Celia remembered his words, half doubtful.

‘Will Mr. Ryan really come?’

Maybe it was better if he didn’t.

‘But if he does, maybe I’ll be stronger.’

Celia clutched her bag and sighed. Her tense body trembled.

＊  ＊  ＊

The courthouse was a battlefield. Dozens of reporters shouted Celia’s name, flashing cameras in her face.

“Miss Lancaster! What do you expect the verdict to be?”

“Do you intend to settle with the Evans family? Are you confident you’ll win?”

“Are you fighting for family honor or personal revenge?”

Celia kept her head down and walked silently. Grenville, escorting her into the court, spoke loudly.

“We believe today’s verdict will be fair and just! Justice will be served!”

Celia paused as she entered the courtroom.

“Father?”

Scott Lancaster stood in the center of the courtroom.

“Celia. You’ve suffered so much.”

He approached with the politician’s signature smile, and hugged her, aware of the reporters’ flashes.

“Why are you here…”

Celia, stiff as a board, was hugged as Scott whispered,

“The Evans family contacted me for a settlement.”

“What?”

“Five hundred thousand dastals. Enough to pay your loan sharks and have money left over.”

Celia looked up to see her father’s fake smile. She shuddered at the familiar duplicity.

“It’s your last chance to reconcile with the Evans family. Take the five hundred thousand and leave for the South or the Old Continent.”

Scott whispered in a low, calm voice.

“Settle. Don’t be a fool and miss your last chance.”

The true face of Scott Lancaster—the supposedly loving father and caring husband—was cold and ruthless.

“Father. Really…”

Celia felt as if her blood was boiling backward.

“How could you… Come to the court on the last day and say something like this.”

Her heart collapsed. She’d known it, but her father still had no real concern for her.

‘I’m alone.’

She realized again that she’d been abandoned by her father.

She remembered the stormy winter night when she was cast out of the mansion, when she nearly entered the freezing river.

‘Father will never know how lonely and miserable I was…’

Whether from sadness or anger, Celia trembled all over. As she pushed Scott away and was about to shout—

“Ah, excuse me.”

A broad shoulder brushed Scott aside.

“Hey! Watch it!”

Scott shouted as he was pushed forward, but the man only nodded disinterestedly and walked past.

‘Mr. Ryan?’

Celia’s eyes widened. And she wasn’t the only one who recognized him.

“Isn’t that Blake Ryan?”

“Yeah. Next to him is Jerry Maxgo.”

“Why are these new rich here? Are they watching because Evans Hotel’s fate is at stake?”

Reporters who recognized him whispered.

Wearing a fitted wool jacket, shiny silk ascot tie, and black leather loafers, the young businessmen’s appearance stirred the audience.

“Just take pictures. Try to get an interview.”

Reporters who’d surrounded Scott and Celia scattered, focusing their cameras on the two men now seated in the back of the audience.

Celia, watching them blankly, snapped to attention when Blake winked at her amid the crowd.

You are not alone.

His smile seemed to say exactly that.

‘He bumped into him on purpose.’

Celia’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘He did it to stop me from breaking down after seeing my father…’

If not for him, she might have lost control in front of everyone. Celia felt deep gratitude and awe toward Blake for preventing that disaster.

‘Yes, I’m not alone.’

Calming herself, Celia stared straight at Scott.

“Father. I will never settle with the Evans family.”

She continued coldly,

“Especially if it’s your order, I won’t obey. I have no reason to follow a father who already abandoned me.”