NOVPUB
Chapter 58 - 58- So cold!
Cold! So cold!
Cynthia's mind repeatedly screamed as she rubbed her hands together, every so often bringing them to her mouth to blow on them in a desperate attempt to warm herself. On days like this, staying in a heated room would be the smartest choice.
She had just climbed the stairs to the second floor when suddenly, a large hand reached out from a side corridor and firmly gripped her small, cold hands. The heat radiating from the person's palm surged into her body like a wave of warmth.
She was startled and nearly cried out, but she immediately met the mischievous eyes of the man holding her hands. It had only been a few months, but somehow, he seemed even more handsome now, with sharper features and an air of arrogance.
The smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, however, made her feel irritated. She lowered her gaze to avoid his eyes, struggling fiercely to pull her hands free from his grasp. How bold of him to grab a woman's hand like that in broad daylight, in front of everyone—it was shameless to the extreme!
But why was he here? Was he pretending to be concerned and offer his sympathy? How theatrical.
"Is it really that cold?" he asked with a teasing grin, holding her hand firmly.
Seeing her shivering on the stairs had made him laugh. Despite how thickly she was dressed, she still seemed so cold. Had she died from cold in her past life or something?
She continued to struggle, irritated, and snapped back, "Of course it's cold, it's snowing!"
His laughter grew even more carefree. It was so wild that she could clearly see his chest rising and falling in rhythm with his breath. He stifled his laughter and said, "Snow isn't cold, it's the melting snow that's cold! Don't you know that?"
Of course, he didn't understand that she felt cold because her heart was cold, because her heart had been cruelly wounded in this kind of weather. She had no defense against it now.
She glared at him in frustration, but he only smiled nonchalantly. She felt like slapping that smug, handsome face of his.
"I don't have the time or energy to discuss life lessons with you!" she gritted out, turning on her heel to walk toward the hospital room at the end of the corridor. She didn't even care that her hand was still firmly held in his. He was here to visit Grace Lancaster, wasn't he? She didn't believe he'd stay here all day.
With a firm grip, his hand pulled her back, and she was forced to take several steps backward, before crashing straight into his chest. A wave of warmth emanated from his body, instantly melting the chill in hers.
His body felt like a small furnace, burning with heat, making her want to stay close and never let go. Ugh, was it wrong for her to have such a thought?
Though it was Albert who had pulled her into his arms first, there was no need for her to cling to him like this! She heard two soft coughs from above, followed by his voice, which he was clearly trying to suppress with a smile.
"Are you planning to hold on until the sun sets?"
Albert Wilson couldn't hold back his teasing anymore. He couldn't deny that the sight of her, with her fiery red hair and the way she melted into him, made her seem strangely endearing, even though it irritated him just moments ago.
Cynthia's face flushed with embarrassment, and she quickly pulled away, but before she could escape entirely, his large hand gently gripped her shoulder and he whispered into her ear,
"If you're going to hold me, you might as well take me home and do it properly. Shouldn't we show a little affection while we're at it?"
Cynthia almost choked on her own frustration. This man had no shame! She had clung to him because she needed warmth in this freezing weather, and for a brief moment, his heat had been comforting. But to hear him suggest taking it further? She'd rather hug a radiator back home than ever think of wrapping her arms around him again. Besides, her home was definitely not open to him.
Reluctantly, she allowed him to keep his arm around her as they walked toward Grace Lancaster's hospital room. Suddenly, Albert tossed another remark her way:
"We'll talk about your hair later."
At this point, Albert Wilson had become surprisingly calm with her antics. He knew that arguing with her would only lead to his own frustration and exhaustion. Cynthia could rebel, stay cold and indifferent, and even challenge his authority—he could handle that. But betrayal was a different story.
Because when his parents had been betrayed by their closest friends years ago, it had ultimately led to their deaths. That experience had shaped his deep mistrust of others and made betrayal something he could never tolerate.
He kept his calm as he guided her toward the room, but Cynthia could only fume inwardly. What was wrong with her hair that he had to lecture her about it? Did he have a problem with her dyeing or curling it? They hadn't seen each other in years, and if she were bald, it wouldn't concern him at all!
In the hospital room, Grace Lancaster lay there pale and weak, while William S Lancaster sat beside her, sighing in worry. Maureen Lancaster was gently holding Grace's hand, speaking to her in soft, comforting tones.
Grace Lancaster's condition was dire, and as a doctor, Cynthia could easily see that the accident had taken a heavy toll on her—not only physically, but emotionally as well. Losing the child meant that Grace had lost one of the few remaining reasons to hold on to the man she loved. What would she have left now?
Marc, being a man, had little understanding of gynecology, and Cynthia, though not an expert herself, couldn't help but wish she could do something to help. Even though Grace had stolen her beloved man and caused her immense pain over the last two years, she couldn't ignore the fact that Grace was suffering now, and that suffering was, in its own way, deserving of sympathy.
Vincent explained that this morning, Grace had been driving to work when the car's brakes suddenly failed. Combined with the icy, snow-covered roads, she had crashed into a guardrail and suffered an abdominal injury. Unfortunately, the child didn't survive.
They suspected that someone had tampered with the car, causing the accident. The moment Vincent finished speaking, Cynthia felt a sharp tremor in her heart, and her whole body grew rigid.
Someone had sabotaged the car? Who could it be?
Her thoughts flashed to Doreen Lancaster's tragic end, and it felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over her, freezing her in place. How could anyone be so cruel? Even a pregnant woman was not spared. If this was the same person responsible for such an act, how could they be so heartless, going so far as to harm an innocent child?
Suddenly, the realization struck her—if this was Grace Lancaster this time, would Maureen Lancaster be next? Cynthia's eyes, stiff with tension, shifted to Maureen, who was gently comforting Grace.
Maureen Lancaster was the first daughter of William S. Lancaster. At the time of her birth, William had been a proud new father, lavishing her with all the love and attention in the world. Maureen had grown up to be everything her father had hoped for—a well-mannered, elegant young woman.
She was ten years older than Cynthia, and of all the Lancaster family, Maureen was the one Cynthia didn't dislike. In fact, she liked her. Maureen's gentle and gracious personality made her beloved by all, and she treated everyone with the same kindness, whether it was Grace, Doreen, or even Cynthia, always treating them like younger sisters.
When Grace and Doreen had bullied or scorned Cynthia, Maureen had been the only one to quietly wipe away her tears and comfort her with tender words. It was also partly because of Maureen's persuasion that William had agreed to bring Cynthia into the Lancaster family years ago, in addition to Vincent's insistence.
Cynthia's mind raced with the possibilities, her body growing colder with each passing second. 𝖓𝔬𝔳𝖕𝖚𝖇.𝖈𝔬𝔪
William S. Lancaster had always cherished his eldest daughter, Maureen, as she embodied the daughter he had longed for. Maureen's grace and elegance reflected everything he had hoped for in a child, and he had showered her with love and attention.
But when Grace was born, he was disappointed that she was a girl, not the son he had hoped for. That disappointment led him to distance himself emotionally, neglecting her needs. By the time Doreen was born, William's heart had already left the family, and he gave up on nurturing them. Without guidance, Grace became domineering, and Doreen grew spoiled and rebellious.
Cynthia felt a surge of panic. If the person responsible for these cruel acts was targeting Maureen next, what would she do? Maureen's gentle nature meant that any accident could easily be her undoing. The thought of losing Maureen in such a brutal way was unbearable.
Her mind, racing with fear for the people she cared about, landed on a single word to describe the man beside her: demon. This man was nothing less than a devil!
She shifted uncomfortably, trying to distance herself from him, but he calmly and subtly pulled her back to his side. She stood there, frozen, her face even paler than Grace's lying on the bed.
In the background, she could hear William S. Lancaster lamenting the future of Lancaster Empire during Grace's hospitalization, but then the man beside her spoke up with a cold, mocking tone.
"If Lancaster doesn't mind, I could temporarily take over the management of Lancaster Empire," he said, as though offering a service, but his smile was sharp, his words almost dripping with amusement.
Cynthia shuddered, but quickly composed herself. They had made an agreement: if the Lancaster Empire went bankrupt, their marriage would end. If this man took control of the company, it would surely collapse within days, and then she would finally be free.
William S. Lancaster, while pretending to decline, was clearly pleased. Having someone as powerful as Wilson's Vice President step in to manage Lancaster Empire was an opportunity few could pass up. He was already envisioning how Wilson would elevate the company to new heights, but Cynthia knew better. This man was playing a long game.
After a tense silence, it was decided that the man would manage the empire temporarily, and everyone began to leave. Maureen and William S. Lancaster headed out first, followed by the man who held her tightly. Vincent remained behind, presumably to watch over Grace. He had barely spoken throughout the ordeal, his emotions unreadable. Cynthia, concerned, wondered if Vincent was struggling with the loss of the child, despite never having shown much expectation for it. The child had been four months along, and even if he hadn't planned for it, surely Vincent had grown some attachment by now.
As she left, Cynthia glanced back at Vincent with a worried look, but before she could act on her concern, the man at her side roughly turned her head and ushered her out of the room.
The snow continued to fall heavily, the flakes growing thicker with each passing moment.
