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Novel Catalog
Chapter 40
Lucian’s face darkened as Estella showed him her notebook, his gaze turning icy. The anger that had been simmering inside him for days now finally erupted. “What’s there to talk to her about?” he said, his voice cold and sharp. “Next time you see her, pretend you don’t know her. Don’t interact with her again.”
Estella’s heart sank at the severity in his voice, and she stopped writing for a moment, stunned. Her fingers hovered over the notebook as she tried to understand. Why? She quickly scribbled the question, unable to suppress her confusion.
Before Lucian could answer, her pen flew across the page again. I like her very much. She’s kind and gentle to me. I want to be with her!
Lucian’s heart tightened. Seeing Estella’s open affection for Roxanne, and knowing the reality of the situation, made him feel a pang of sympathy for his daughter. But his own hurt and pride drowned out any sense of compassion. “That’s because she has children of her own,” he replied in a clipped tone. “She doesn’t need another child.”
Estella’s brows furrowed, not fully grasping his words. She had noticed that Roxanne had two boys, but she had always felt warmth and kindness from the woman. She didn’t understand why her father was so adamant in his rejection of her.
Why does Daddy seem to hate her? Estella’s heart felt heavy, and she couldn’t stop herself from feeling disappointed.
Lucian’s eyes softened for a moment as he glanced at his daughter’s silent confusion. He sighed inwardly, but there was no room for mercy in his heart right now. He turned to his assistant, giving the signal to drive off.
After leaving the Queen residence, Estella, her small hand tugging at Lucian’s sleeve, looked up at him with wide, questioning eyes.
In that case, where is my mommy?
Her words were simple, but they shattered him. His throat constricted as he glanced at her notebook, then at her face—those innocent, pleading eyes, filled with confusion.
The pretty lady is the boys’ mommy… Estella’s thoughts were clear. So, I cannot be with her. But then, where is my mommy?
Lucian swallowed, the pain of her question cutting deep. How could he answer her? He knew the truth—that Roxanne had moved on, had built a life without her, and had no intention of acknowledging Estella. The coldness in his chest deepened, his guilt only making the situation harder to bear.
Estella was still staring at him, waiting for an answer that he knew he could not give.
His mind raced. How do I explain this to her?
The more he thought about it, the darker the weight of his silence grew. What am I supposed to tell her? That her mother has a new family? That even with her standing right here, her mother won’t acknowledge her?
The suffocating silence dragged on, and his response came slowly, through gritted teeth. “I don’t know,” he finally spat, frustration lining every word. “I don’t know where she is, and don’t ever ask me that again. You don’t need a mommy. You have me. That should be enough for you!”
Estella’s face fell as she stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. She slowly tucked her notebook away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. For the rest of the drive home, neither of them spoke. The air between them was heavy with unspoken words, the silence suffocating.
Meanwhile, back at the Queen residence, Roxanne felt a deep sense of discomfort lingering in the air long after Lucian had left. She wasn’t sure why, but something about their brief interaction had unsettled her, leaving her feeling off-kilter.
Jonathan, who had noticed her quiet mood, wisely chose not to probe. Instead, he led her downstairs to where they could unwind with some coffee and light conversation. Despite the surface-level pleasantries, a sense of unease still hung between them.
Frieda, after being dismissed from the room earlier, had retreated to her own space. But she was not one to stay passive for long. She returned to the main area and quietly observed Jonathan and Roxanne on the couch. Her lips curled into a barely perceptible sneer.
From the beginning, Frieda had been skeptical of Roxanne’s abilities. Nothing she had seen so far had changed her mind. As far as Frieda was concerned, Roxanne was just a pretender. She couldn’t possibly be as skilled as she claimed to be.
Roxanne noticed the contemptuous look Frieda shot her way but didn’t react. She kept her composure, pretending to be oblivious to the judgment in the other woman’s eyes. Let her think what she wants, she thought, her focus on the task at hand.
An hour later, after a tense silence had filled the room, Roxanne stood up. “It’s time. We can remove the needles now,” she said, her voice calm but firm.
Jonathan followed her, nodding in understanding. Frieda, ever skeptical, also stood, albeit with visible reluctance. She may have doubted Roxanne, but her grandfather’s condition weighed heavily on her. If there was even a chance that Roxanne could save him, she needed to see it for herself.
