Chapter 217
Chapter 217:
Brad slowly traced the rim of the velvet gift box. “Must we really keep such strict accounts between us?”
A phone call cut through the silence. Sean’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. “We have important guests tonight. Be home early.”
Rylie heard this, stepped out of the car, and said as she closed the door, “Follow my treatment plan. As long as no harm comes to you, you can still fulfill your grandfather’s hopes — marry, raise children, and live a long life.”
His grandfather’s hopes?
Brad frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
Rylie offered no reply. She mounted her motorcycle and sped away.
The call was still connected, and Sean, hearing her words, felt a chill of unease. “Brad, are you with that Owen girl?”
Brad’s tone was icy as he asked, “How come I wasn’t told about any important guests? The officials? Is this about the offshore oil field again?”
Sean looked at the plainly dressed mother and daughter, who stood nervously in the middle of the hall, and said, “It’s your fiancée.”
Brad’s face changed in an instant. After a pause, he replied flatly, “What are you talking about? Maybe retirement has made you lose your senses.”
“This isn’t something I can explain over the phone. You need to return as soon as possible,” Sean said firmly.
Brad usually obeyed his grandfather without question, but Rylie’s earlier words weighed on his mind. She might have heard this news before him, and the thought of her misunderstanding made him uneasy.
Brock glanced at Brad’s somber face through the rearview mirror and quietly started the car.
At the Morgan estate, the atmosphere was so heavy that it felt suffocating.
Zaylee Cullen clung to her mother’s hand as they sat in stiff-backed chairs. A servant had left a small table nearby with freshly brewed coffee, its rich aroma filling the air.
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“You both must be tired from traveling,” said Sean. “Have some coffee and snacks first. We can talk about the engagement slowly.”
Zaylee and her mother had come from a rural town and had never stepped inside such a grand estate. The air itself felt steeped in class division. Even the servants wore fine silk, far superior to the cheap, worn clothing the two women had on.
“Mom, maybe we should go home,” Zaylee whispered nervously. “I don’t want to get married.”
Perla Cullen was just as anxious, but she patted her daughter’s hand gently.
“It’s all right. They haven’t said you need to marry right away.”
Sean studied the girl and asked softly, “How old are you, dear?”
With her gaze lowered, Perla answered, “She just turned eighteen, not yet at the legal age to marry.”
“Then why did your mother contact me, hoping I’d fulfill my promise? Is she in good health?” Sean asked.
Perla paused for a moment. “Life back home has been harsh and full of struggles. My mother helped us get away.”
She avoided giving details, but the unease in her eyes told Sean there was more to the story.