chapter2192

Yannick's lips curved into a smile. "No chance. Let me hold you a while longer."

He wanted every passerby to see that the woman in his arms belonged to him.

Nicholas followed a few paces behind, watching the sudden, showy affection that had replaced their earlier courtesy.

In that moment, he knew he had lost.

First it had been Cecilia. Now it was Jocelyn.

Nicholas' dark eyes frosted over. Why do they all drift away in the end?

He stepped outside, climbed into his car, and closed the door with quiet finality.

He slumped against the leather backrest, shoulders caving in as though the weight of the week had settled there. Dark half-moons clung beneath his eyes, and every slow breath whispered of exhaustion he no longer tried to hide.

After what felt like an endless silence, he pushed himself upright, grabbed the keys, and let the engine carry him through sleeping streets toward Rainsworth Manor, headlights slicing the mist while unresolved thoughts rattled louder than the tires.

The old estate greeted him with a chorus-small feet racing over marble, shrill laughter ricocheting off chandeliers, the kind of bright commotion only children create, filling each corridor with a warmth the centuries-old walls had nearly forgotten.

Nicholas had scarcely crossed the threshold when a blind-folded child burst from behind a velvet drape, arms flailing, and collided with his legs.

"Ha! I got you!" Elliot whipped off the blindfold, triumph blazing in his cheeks-until he realized the tall figure he had snared was not another playmate but his uncle.

The boy's grin froze, like paint left to dry too soon.

Before Elliot could step back, Nicholas scooped him up-effortless, almost gentle, the way one might lift a startled bird.

"So, hide-and-seek, hm? Is it fun?" His question floated out, easy and warm, yet it hummed with something unreadable beneath the politeness.

To Elliot, the gentle tone sounded terrifying. A shiver chased down the back of his neck.

He could not explain it. All he knew was that Nicholas was strange.

"Uncle Nicholas, could you set me down? I want to play with them." He pointed at his friends.

Nicholas paused when he heard the boy call him "Uncle". He then lowered the boy to the floor. "Run along. Play hard. Chances like today may not come again," he added, letting the words slide out too softly to be casual.

The final sentence landed like a secret folded into an ordinary envelope.

A chill rattled Elliot's small shoulders.

Yet children are forgetful. He quickly forgot about what he heard and never thought to mention the moment to anyone.

Dinner felt like a photograph from

years ago Nicholas seated at the long table, silver warm beneath chandeliers, the entire family. gathered as though nothing in the world had cracked.

Elena watched him eat, noted the color back in his face, and was relieved.

Across from her, Wren, too, was relieved.

"Eat more," Wren said. "You're still recovering. You need energy."

Elena chimed in, bright as tinkling glass. "Nicholas, when you recover, I'll introduce you to a few lovely women. Start a family, fill it with purpose-ng room left for dark thoughts

Nicholas set his fork down with delicate precision. "Dad, Mom, living alone suits me

fine right now. I'm not ready to build a family."

He let the pause breathe, then let his gaze drift-almost lazily-toward Cecilia and Nathaniel at the other end of the table.

"Tell me, Cecilia, does marriage truly improve life?"

Cecilia's fork halted mid-air.

"Of course," she answered, voice steady but thin around the edges. She offered a short nod, the only safe reply.

"You mean that?" Nicholas pressed, the words smooth yet unsettling, like silk tightened into a garrote.

Cecilia felt the question snag on something she could not name. She managed another nod.

Elena, oblivious, smiled. "Isn't that obvious? Look at them so in love, four wonderful children racing around, this house brimming with life."

At that very moment, three of the four children were running around while the nanny chased them in helpless circles. Only Jonathan sat angel-still, quietly devouring his vegetables.

The contrast between adult composure and juvenile chaos could not have been sharper if painted in oil.

Nicholas watched the swirl of noise, then murmured, almost to himself, "Cool, but I prefer silence."

Nathaniel finally broke the strained quiet, shoulders squared in quiet authority "Everyone charts his own course, Mom, if he has ho wish to marry, please let him breathe without us nudging at his heels."

Elena's mouth opened, then closed again. She thought of Chelsea's mother and decided she would not become like her.

Night settled over Rainsworth Manor like velvet, muting the day's arguments to a hush of crickets and distant city hum.

Cecilia lay curled against Nathaniel, their quilt rising and falling with shared breath. "Nathaniel, something about Nicholas felt off today. I can't explain it."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, voice low in the dark.

She shook her head, hair whispering across his chest. "It's only a feeling-nothing concrete."

He smoothed slow circles between her shoulder blades. "Don't let it trouble you. Rest. I'm here."