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Chapter 82
A shadow passed over Harold’s face, his expression turning somber.
Just then, Cecilia awoke from her nap. She approached him, seeking solace by enveloping his waist and longing for a kiss. However, Harold wasnt in the mood. He simply said, “Your brother has returned.
Let’s go downstairs.” Despite Cecilia’s inherent simplicity, she couldn’t help but perceive his indifference, leading to a tinge of disappointment seeping into her heart.
Harold, ever the charmer, skillfully coaxed and reassured her.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.
As they descended the staircase, Cecilia’s spirits soared once more, her buoyant nature resurfacing.
Waylen sat comfortably on the sofa, engrossed in a magazine. Cecilia eagerly threw herself into his arms, exclaiming, “Waylen!”
Waylen playfully pinched her cheek and remarked, “You’re still as clingy as ever. Harold might become jealous.” “He wont,” Cecilia insisted, holding onto Waylen’s arm and assuming a spoiled stance. “Didn’t you mention having several projects? It would be better to have Harold take care of them instead of outsiders.”
Waylen glanced up at Harold, a meaningful smile dancing on his lips. “Dad ts right. You treat Harold better than you treat us now.”
“No, I’m not!” Cecilia protested, her voice filled with affection.
After playfully teasing his sister, Waylen readily agreed, his charming smile lighting up the room.
“I know you are the best,” Cecilia praised, her voice filled with genuine admiration.
Cecilia, with her gentle nature, sought to mend the strained relationship between Harold and Waylen. She had always sensed an underlying tension between the two, yet the cause remained a mystery to her.
Harold was on the verge of becoming the son—in—law of the prestigious Fowler family, whose influence far surpassed that of the Moore family. The Fowlers were a towering presence in terms of connections and power, leaving the Moores far behind in comparison.
He couldn’t afford to jeopardize his bond with Waylen over Rena, no matter, the circumstances.
With graciousness, Harold expressed, “Thank you, Waylen,” his words dripping with politeness.
Waylen responded with a faint, enigmatic smile, hinting at a myriad of thoughts beneath the surface.
Picking up the magazine again, he leafed through it nonchalantly, his demeanor exuding an icy detachment.
As the clock struck half past four in the afternoon, Waylen rose from his seat, his purpose evident.
“I have some pressing matters to attend to. I shall take my leave,” he informed the company, his voice laced with a touch of regret.
Understanding the rarity of this encounter, Korbyn and Juliette, eager to spend more time with Waylen, implored him to stay for dinner.
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“Next time, I promise to join you for dinner! However, today I’m afraid I must attend to some urgent matters,” Waylen assured, his hand tenderly brushing Cecilia’s head.
As he departed, Harold, feeling obliged to follow suit, disclosed that he too couldn’t stay for dinner.
Sensing his potential discomfort, Cecilia proactively sought to protect him by speaking affectionately, “Please don’t dwell on it too much. My brother has always been like this; reserved and unenthusiastic toward almost everyone.”
Harold’s reaction was one of scorn, his expression tainted with cynicism.
But what about Rena?