Gideon’s kindness left her flustered and uncertain.
She couldn’t help but wonder–had he ever used that salve himself, with those terrible scars on his hands?
In the car, Gideon waited for a message from Celestine, but none came.
Instead, his phone buzzed with a flood of texts from his grandfather.
Sifting through his grandfather’s usual barrage of blunt, irritable remarks, Gideon figured out that Celestine must have run into the old man while picking something up. Apparently, his grandfather had already explained the ointment’s effects and how to use it.
By now, she should be home, reading his messages, shouldn’t she?
Gideon’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.
Still no reply?
“Sir, there’s news from the port,” Vernon reported, stepping forward. “The Sterlings and the Fordham family are making new moves, reaching out to the Winslow family and trying to poach their partnership.”
Gideon didn’t look up from his paperwork. “Keep the pressure on.”
“Yes, sir,” Vernon replied evenly. “By the way, the scar cream we ordered from overseas for Miss Selwyn has arrived. Should I deliver it to her?”
Gideon paused, fingers motionless over the files. “No, that won’t be necessary. I already gave her the ointment I got from my grandfather.”
Vernon’s eyes widened in disbelief.
His grandfather? Did he mean the legendary Dr. Clifton–the nation’s top medical authority, whose prescriptions were priceless and nearly impossible to obtain?
Dr. Clifton was known for making miracle cures, never easily parted with. And yet, Gideon had just handed Miss Selwyn one of his rare ointments without a second thought?
Vernon’s shock was written all over his face.
“Ah… Yes, sir. Then she’s very fortunate indeed.”
Portside City.
1/3
14:31
whapter oYE
It had been over a month since Raymond was brought back to Portside City by Alistair.
Aside from his regular classes, his great–grandfather had hired a private tutor to drill him daily in etiquette and the family’s old–fashioned rules.
Raymond was miserable.
Today was the weekend, and he’d barely had a moment to himself before being made to copy out page after page of handwriting practice all afternoon.
Whenever he paused, his stern tutor would smack his palm with a ruler.
He tried complaining to his great–grandfather, but only got scolded for being weak.
“If you can’t even handle this, you’re not fit to be the Fordham family’s heir!”
Raymond’s eyes stung with frustrated tears.
He had never wanted to be an heir. He just wanted his dad. He wanted Miss
Joanna.
They never forced him to do all these awful things.
Even his mom, for all her strictness, never punished him so harshly.
If only he and his sister hadn’t stopped their mom from taking the painting that day–would things have turned out better?
Back on weekends before everything changed, his mother would bake little cakes for them, play with them in the living room.
Even when he couldn’t finish his homework, she’d stay up late beside him rather
than ever raise a hand.
Now, his great–grandfather insisted he drink three bowls a day of some black, bitter concoction to “strengthen his body.”
Whenever their mother made them drink medicine, it never tasted this foul.
He missed her so much. He wiped his eyes, fighting the urge to cry out loud.
After calligraphy practice, Raymond was allowed ten precious minutes a day on his phone.
He tried calling Celestine, but her line was unreachable.
Sniffling, he dialed Celia instead.
“Celia, has Mom gotten any better lately?”
372
14:31
apter 69
When he’d left Oceanview City, his mother was still in the hospital, unable to remember any of them.
Celia sounded utterly impatient. “How should I know? She never tells me anything. I’m busy. Is there something you need, or what?”
Raymond was taken aback. “You haven’t gone to see Mom? Not even once?”
“Oh, why would I?” Celia huffed. “She doesn’t even remember me! That’s actually perfect–I’ll just have Miss Sinclair as my only mom from now on! Anyway, I’m packing to move into Miss Sinclair’s new place. I’m hanging up, bye!”
She pouted as she ended the call, completely uninterested in Raymond’s complaints.
Ever since her brother had been sent to Portside City, he called home all the time.
Even though she was still just a kid, she could tell their great–grandfather favored Raymond. There was no way he’d let him suffer.
Hmph. He was just bragging.
Celia directed the housekeeper to finish packing her little suitcase.
But as she was about to head out the door, Chester’s secretary intercepted her.
“Young miss, you can’t go to Miss Sinclair’s place.”
14:32
