NovelEnglishKorbyn, with his arm around Lyndon’s shoulder, beamed with joy as he exclaimed, “Lyndon, it’s been years, yet you remain as graceful as ever! I on the other hand, am feeling quite old.”
Cecilia chimed in sweetly, “Dad, are you thinking of finding a new wife”:
Laughter erupted around the table, and Juliette ‘joined in, jesting, “Oh, nonsense! Your father will give you a good scolding for such remarks.”
Cecilia stuck out her tongue and declared, “Mr. Coleman will protect me.”
Juliette smiled affectionately and addressed Lyndon, “Cecilia has always been attached to you since she was a child.”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtLyndon’s gaze rested on Cecilia, his heart tinged with longing.
Though he and his wife had a daughter, she had been adopted. If only he hadn’t prioritized his own ego and disappointed his girlfriend at the time, could he have had a biological daughter as lively and lovely as Cecilia?
He felt a wave of melancholy wash over him and softly uttered, “Cecilia is truly delightful.” Then he gently patted her on the head.
Confused, Cecilia blinked her innocent eyes, unaware of the depth of Lyndon’s emotions.
Sensing the man’s sadness, Korbyn swiftly changed the subject, rekindling a lively atmosphere. However, in the midst of their joyful conversation, Korbyn couldn’t help but notice Waylen’s somber mood. Sighing inwardly, Korbyn knew that there was something bothering his son.
Korbyn sighed.
The dinner continued well into the late hours of the night.
Juliette had already instructed the servants to prepare the guest room for
Lyndon. However, Lyndon insisted on staying in a hotel. With no other choice, she and Korbyn arranged for a driver to accompany their old friend back to the hotel.
As the dinner concluded, the grand dining room now appeared empty:
The only thing heard were the sounds of the servants udying up, the clinking of glasses and plates echoing faintly in the air.
Waylen was about to retire to his room when his father halted him.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm“Waylen,1 need to talk to you about something.”
Waylen turned his deep gaze towards his father, awaiting his words.
Korbyn gestured for them to proceed to the study, closing the door behind them.
Once inside, Waylen prepared a cup of tea for the older man. , . “i
“Rad what do you want to talk to me > about in the middle of the night?”
Korbyn did not drink the tea and instead put it aside.
With a serious expression, he began. “Waylen, I noticed that you were not in a good mood during dinner.”
Waylen took out a cigarette, brought it to his lips and lit it.
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