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Novel Catalog
Chapter 81
The three children exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them before they carefully placed the Lego pieces down and ran toward the kitchen.
“What happened, Mommy?” Archie and Benny asked, their voices full of concern as they approached her.
Roxanne was jolted out of her trance, her heart sinking as she saw her sons. The sight of them only deepened her unease. She fought to suppress her rising fears, quickly mustering a smile. “It’s nothing,” she replied, though her voice faltered slightly. “The bowl must have slipped out of my hand. Don’t come in. There are broken pieces everywhere.”
She forced herself to squat down, trying to act as if everything were fine, but her mind was elsewhere, clouded with anxiety. The children stood back, watching, unsure of what to do.
From behind them, Lucian’s eyes darkened as he observed Roxanne kneeling on the floor. I could be imagining it, he thought, but this woman seems to have a lot on her mind.
Roxanne felt his intense gaze on her, which only added to her discomfort. As she lowered her head, trying to focus on picking up the shards, a sharp corner of one of the pieces pricked her finger. A jolt of pain shot through her, pulling her out of her distracted state. She gasped instinctively, her body tensing.
“Mommy!”
“Ms. Jarvis!”
The children cried out anxiously as they saw blood dripping from her finger. Without thinking, they rushed toward her, but a tall figure suddenly stepped in front of them.
Lucian had moved in front of them, kneeling beside Roxanne with a cold expression. His large hand gently but firmly wrapped around her wrist, and the children froze in place, unsure how to react.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, irritation lacing his voice.
Roxanne stared at the large hand holding hers, momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond. She had never expected Lucian to intervene like this. She felt a flicker of frustration rise within her, but before she could voice it, he swiftly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet in one fluid motion.
She barely had time to adjust before she found herself standing by the sink, Lucian’s grip still tight on her wrist.
Looking uncharacteristically ill-tempered, Lucian turned on the faucet and gently placed her wrist under the stream of cool water. His movements were precise, almost too calm, as if he were trying to focus his energy on the task at hand.
“Wait outside,” Lucian instructed, glancing at the children who stood hesitantly by the door. “Do not come in.”
Though still worried about their mother, the children nodded, relieved to see her in capable hands. They stepped back, watching anxiously from a distance.
Once the wound had been cleaned to his satisfaction, Lucian took out a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around her injured finger to stop the bleeding. His touch was gentle, but his expression was unreadable.
Roxanne, now more in control of herself, gave a weak smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice quieter than usual. She tried to pull her hand away from his, avoiding his gaze. “I can finish up on my own.”
Lucian’s grip tightened slightly, and he gave her a look that conveyed his disapproval.
Roxanne felt a flicker of annoyance. He has a child with another woman. Essie is watching us right now, she thought, trying to push back against the strange sense of discomfort that lingered between them. He has no reason to care for me this much. He only has hatred toward me, anyway.
She forced a grimace, her gaze fixed on his hand still holding hers, determined to make him see that she didn’t need his help.
Lucian, however, ignored her resistance. “I’m going to dress your wound,” he said, his tone firm and final.
Without waiting for her to respond, he guided her gently out of the kitchen.
Roxanne, resigned, gritted her teeth in frustration. “Please don’t trouble yourself. It’s late, and you should take Essie home. I can manage on my own.”
Lucian stopped in his tracks, momentarily frozen at her words. A brief flash of dissatisfaction crossed his features, but it vanished almost instantly, replaced by an expression of quiet determination.
“How will you dress your wound when your right hand is injured?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with irritation. He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling her gently along.
The three children followed them closely, still anxious but not daring to interrupt.
Roxanne didn’t struggle anymore. The children’s concerned gazes and Lucian’s insistence made her feel oddly helpless. She let herself be led, her shoulders heavy with the weight of her thoughts. This man is too domineering, she thought with a mix of exasperation and resignation.
