“I didn’t push her. It wasn’t me—it was…” Celia stammered, turning to find the children who had caused the accident. But a glance around revealed they had already disappeared.
Her voice faltered, and the brief pause sealed her fate.
“If not you, then who? Me? Or are you going to claim she somehow fell in on her own?” Lucas’ voice was sharp, cutting. “Celia Quinn, I thought you were just a little spoiled, but now I see you’re completely out of line. You’ve got no shame at all!”
The words hit her like a thunderclap, echoing painfully in her mind.
No shame.
He knew, better than anyone, how much that phrase haunted her. After her parents’ deaths, the cruel taunts from schoolmates—mocking her for being a “shameful child without parents”—had left scars.
Back then, Lucas had been the one to stand up for her.
And now, he was the one wielding those very words like a weapon against her.
Her lips moved as if to say something, to defend herself, but no sound came out. Lucas didn’t wait. He turned away, carrying Yvonne in his arms and leaving without a backward glance.
With the host long gone, the party quickly lost its purpose. The crowd dispersed, leaving Celia to wander home, her heart heavy and her mind adrift.
That night, she couldn’t sleep. She called Lucas and sent him messages, desperate to explain what had really happened. But as the hours dragged on, the silence from him was deafening.
It wasn’t until dawn the next morning that Lucas returned to the villa, Yvonne at his side.
“Uncle, I didn’t push her! It was two kids—they were playing near the pool and accidentally knocked her in!” Celia rushed forward the moment she saw them, her voice pleading.
Lucas didn’t respond. He simply kept walking, pulling Yvonne along with him as if Celia wasn’t even there. He didn’t spare her so much as a glance.
Panicking, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path, her eyes red with unshed tears. “Can’t you believe me just this once? You used to… you always trusted me.”
Her voice trembled, breaking slightly with emotion. It was enough to make Lucas pause.
In the past, when she had no one else, Lucas had been her everything. He had given her the security and love she needed to survive. And whenever something went wrong, he would always take her side without question.
She had once asked him why, when everyone else accused her of lying, he still believed her. His answer had been simple, “Celia, I raised you. I might not know everyone else, but I know who you truly are.”
But now, as she stood before him, desperate for that same trust, Lucas remained silent. After what felt like an eternity, he finally moved but only to push her aside.
“Get out of the way.”
He didn’t push her hard, but Celia staggered and fell to the ground.
Seeing her collapse so easily, Lucas froze for a moment, guilt flashing in his eyes. He quickly bent down to help her up, but when his hand touched hers, he stopped, his expression shifting to one of alarm. He realized that her body temperature was abnormally low.
“Why is your hand so cold?”
His voice was filled with unmistakable concern, but when Celia fumbled for an explanation, unable to provide an answer, Lucas grabbed her hand to check for himself.
What he discovered left him stunned. He couldn’t feel her pulse.
Just as he was about to question her, Yvonne, who had been standing quietly behind him, interrupted.
“Celia, even if you’re upset about Lucas spending time with me, pretending to be sick just to get his attention isn’t the way to go.”
Her words landed like a dagger, and the worry in Lucas’ eyes instantly hardened into fury.
“You pushed Yvonne into the pool, and now you’re pretending to be ill just to manipulate me? The only way I’ll even consider forgiving you is if you apologize to Yvonne right now!”
The ticking of the clock on the wall marked each passing second, weighing heavily on Celia’s heart. She didn’t have much time left, and now she was wasting it in a cold war she couldn’t win.
Her face pale and expression numb, she didn’t bother to argue further. “Fine, I’ll apologize.”
She stood, her head bowed and eyes red-rimmed, and mumbled a soft, “I’m sorry,” in Yvonne’s direction.
Then she looked up at Lucas, her gaze hollow and lifeless, as though every ounce of fight had drained from her.
“Uncle, is this enough? Will you forgive me now?”
Lucas’ jaw tightened, her words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. She looked utterly defeated, as though bearing a pain so heavy it might break her. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and her watery eyes glistened with a sadness so raw it was suffocating.
But his anger refused to waver, and after a long, tense silence, he finally spat out five cold words, “Don’t let it happen again.”
