Rupert looked at me with genuine gratitude.
“Brother Atticus, thank you for accepting me and the child. I’ll always be grateful…”
I had no patience for his empty words and turned sharply to Dione.
“No need. We won’t live together. I’ve got the keepsake. Now give me the house code, I’ll hire movers to clear out my things.”
Dione rattled off a string of numbers, her eyes burning with scorn. “So much drama, but in the end, you’ll just crawl right back.”
Rupert tugged nervously at her sleeve. “Dione, the room…”
Her eyes flickered, and she dragged Rupert along to my car.
“I’m coming with you. Just to make sure you don’t take the wrong things.”
When we arrived home, everything clicked. Why had Dione insisted on tagging along?
The sofa was strewn with torn scraps of a male servant’s uniform.
The dining table was decorated with heart-shaped candles.
The bedroom was heavy with the seductive scent of vanilla, and the wardrobe was lined with rows of delicate lingerie.
These days, I have been caught up in my father’s funeral arrangements.
I rarely came home.
Meanwhile, Dione, heavy with child, and Rupert clearly indulged themselves without restraint.
I went down to the garage and noticed several luxury cars were missing.
A few designer watches had vanished from the walk-in closet shelves.
Rupert followed behind me, wearing a smug grin. “Brother Atticus, missing something?”
He was eager to see me lose my cool.
But I only gave a faint, cold smile.
“A freeloader will always be a freeloader, only good for petty theft.”
“You—!”
Rupert’s fury flashed in his eyes, sharp and vicious.
Then suddenly, he gasped, slapped himself hard across the face, and dropped to his knees.
“Brother Atticus, you can hit me all you want! Just don’t hurt Dione…”
Dione rushed in and helped him up.
Her anger blazed as she slapped me hard across the face.
“Atticus, you’ve been a rich young master for too long, you’re insufferable!”
She didn’t hold back at all. My cheek swelled instantly.
Pain throbbed in my temples, and fury bubbled close to the surface.
“Dione! Are you blind?”
She dragged me out of the closet and slammed her boot hard into my injured leg.
“Get out! Go back to your family! Come back only when you know you’re wrong!”
My anger slowly dissolved into bitter helplessness.
Burning with rage, I lifted my foot and struck Rupert across the face.
Dione’s eyes blazed as she raised her hand to strike me again.
I grit my teeth and catch her wrist firmly.
“That one was mine.”
I turned away, eyes stinging with fresh tears, retreating like a coward.
Outside, rain poured down in a relentless, drenching stream.
I curled up on the cold ground, feeling humiliated.
After what felt like an eternity, the rain finally stopped falling on me.
Turning my head, I saw Rhea had arrived some time ago, holding an umbrella, shielding me all along.
She reached out her hand, her voice trembling with undeniable heartache.
“Atticus, let me take you home.”
Back at the Langston residence, I stared at the familiar courtyard and the familiar butler, memories flooding my mind.
Rhea’s father and mine had once been fierce rivals in the business, and early on, they had arranged a childhood engagement for us.
But back then, I often clashed with my father, and by extension, I resented Uncle Alfonso and young Rhea.
After middle school, I left for the UK to study business management while Rhea was sent to Milan to pursue art.
More than ten years later, we crossed paths again at my father’s funeral.
As I sat there, lost in thought, Rhea’s mother approached, carrying a bowl of ginger soup.
She touched my forehead gently, her worry and tenderness unmistakable.
