CHAPTER 197: SNOWFALL AND SECRETS

At Lancaster Mansion,

Seraphina answered the call with ease when it started ringing, but her expression stiffened as soon as she heard the news. [Ma’am, Damien had been released for a week, under the guarantee of a deputy chief of police, citing his grandmother’s critical state.]

Her grip on the phone tightened, but before she could speak, the caller hesitated, then added almost reluctantly, [He has already met Aveline Laurent.]

The shift in Seraphina’s face was instant. Fury flashed in her eyes, her meticulous schemes crumbling with Damien’s simple action. She had been weaving her web so carefully, making Aveline doubt her sanity, one step at a time. Damien’s sudden appearance meant tearing her plan all apart. Now she has to start from scratch.

Her voice dripped venom. "Why wasn’t I informed sooner?" she hissed, seething at the betrayal.

The caller flustered, hearing her. He quickly explained, [He brought in new lawyers. They handled it quietly. If word had gotten out, the Laurents and Alaric would’ve stopped it.]

Of course, Seraphina understood that much. Damien’s secrecy was expected, yet it ruined her plan. It made her fury deepen.

"I want to talk to that bastard," she snapped at the caller, rage thick in her tone.

The caller faltered, his hesitation clear in his voice. "Err... I’ll look into it." And with that, the line went dead.

Seraphina began pacing her room, heels clicking sharply against the floor. Once again, she had failed. Her plans collapsed one after another, leaving her to grit her teeth and rethink.

Just as she was about to weigh a new move, a knock came at the door. "Come in," she ordered, masking her agitation.

The housekeeper stepped in, bowing slightly. "Madam Isabella is asking for you. Sir Edward and Young Master Nicholas are already downstairs." Her tone was even and respectful.

Seraphina’s brow furrowed at an impromptu gathering. But she gave a curt nod. "I’ll be there."

When she entered the living hall, she found Edward seated beside Isabella, a file resting neatly on the coffee table, and Nicholas deliberately ignoring her as though she wasn’t visible..

"Mom, you asked for me?" Seraphina forced a soft tone as she lowered herself onto the armchair next to Nicholas, trying to pretend to be harmonious with her husband.

Edward’s gaze shifted between Nicholas and Seraphina. He could see clearly that there was a problem with the couple. But he didn’t comment.

Isabella first nodded her head at Seraphina in response. Then she gracefully set her teacup aside. She started softly saying, "I realized I haven’t given you both anything in some time. The recent events have caused much tension, much imbalance."

She picked up the file as she spoke. "When I arranged a villa for Aveline, I also secured one for you, Seraphina."

The housekeeper stepped forward to collect the file from Isabella and handed the file to Seraphina.

Seraphina blinked, caught between envy and confusion. When Isabella had gifted Aveline a villa, her jealousy had been sharp. Now that one was offered to her as well, she wasn’t sure whether to feel satisfied or not.

She accepted it without excitement, murmuring a polite, "Thank you."

Edward’s hand rested gently on Isabella’s lap, his voice steady as he spoke. "While touring Ric’s penthouse, I saw the changes Aveline brought into his life. The flowers, the bright colors, the photo frames, even the throw over the couch, the closet they now share... These are signs of harmony, of living together and truly blending lives."

Nicholas clenched his fists, blood boiling, without understanding what Edward was trying to say. Nevertheless, he forced himself to listen.

Seraphina, however, hid back a frown. She remembered that penthouse, overlooking the city with its commanding view. Money alone couldn’t buy the place she had seen there.

Edward’s tone softened, though his words were deliberate. "Just living under one roof isn’t love. It’s the small adjustments, the care for each other’s space, the acceptance of imperfections, that’s what creates respect and affection."

His gaze shifted to Isabella, the smile on his lips tight. "We didn’t have that luxury while raising Nick and Giselle. But we don’t want the two of you to miss it."

The next moment, his voice hardened to the tone of a businessman’s final decision, "So we have decided, you two will live separately for some years." His unyielding tone gave no space for rebuff.

Isabella followed seamlessly, her words wrapped in silk. "Now that Seraphina has more time, it’s the perfect chance to learn how to manage a household. After all, one day you’ll be matriarch of the Lancaster family." She gestured gracefully at the vast living hall. "This will all be yours soon."

Seraphina’s lips twitched. She wasn’t naive enough to think Isabella and Edward were worried about them. She knew she was being cast out under pretty pretenses.

Yet as her eyes roamed the wealth around her, a greedy thought flared, ’One day, all of this will be mine. Not Aveline’s.’

A faint smile appeared on her face, imagining Aveline listening to her orders and dropping her head at her commands.

Nicholas, meanwhile, had a startling realization. He had always seen Isabella’s guidance as genuine love, a mother’s training for an heir. But the way she spoke of Seraphina as ’matriarch’ felt more like a pointed taunt.

He wanted to refuse outright to move out of the mansion. Because he found it better to face Isabella and Edward’s overbearing presence than endure Seraphina’s endless schemes alone.

But one look at Edward’s stern expression silenced him.

After a moment, he voiced his opinion, "Then we will stay at my villa in Riverdale." A choice made solely because he didn’t want to see the day when Seraphina gloated over ’her’ villa.

Edward nodded approvingly, and Isabella added with a serene smile, "Wherever you would like it."

If they hadn’t schemed so viciously against Aveline and Alaric, Isabella might have supported them, helped them settle till the end. But now, she wanted them to struggle, be helpless, and to learn the hard lessons Alaric had once endured alone.

So Nicholas and Seraphina would be left to fight like cats and dogs, learning the meaning of harmony the painful way.

Isabella glanced at the couple going upstairs. Edward gently squeezed her hand to get her attention. "They will manage." He tried to ease her.

"They have to learn." Isabella sighed.

Edward wasn’t a fool. He knew this was the rage of a mother taking action. But he didn’t have any complaints. Because Alaric was never the problem, but Nicholas was. And he was aware, Isabella would be the first to stand if Nicholas was in trouble.

He gently kissed her forehead and stood. "I’ll get fresh."

.....

Meanwhile, across the city,

Alaric stepped downstairs after getting fresh and watched Aveline quietly. Her face was pale, her gaze distant, and though she tried to mask it with her calmness, he could see the disturbance in her eyes.

He wanted to believe it was because of witnessing someone die before her, an experience heavy enough for anyone, but something told him there was more beneath.

A few minutes ago, Ezra confirmed to him that Eleanor Ashford, the matriarch of the Ashford was no more. A funeral was being arranged, and a lot of socialite family members were gathering. Henry and Margaret were there to pay respect to the dead.

Alaric glanced at his study. His desk still held unfinished files, calls waiting for his attention, but none of that mattered, looking at her state.

Sliding beside her on the couch, he wrapped her gently into his arms. She didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned against him, curling into the safety of his warmth.

Outside, snow drifted softly. Inside, Aveline anchored herself to his presence. She tried hard to speak with him about anything, but her thoughts were a mess.

Guilt gnawed at her. Just the way she protected Scarlett, saved herself, she could have saved Eleanor, couldn’t she?

Why did she just warn her?

Why did she let Eleanor die?

She was aware nobody would have believed her, and probably her head’s up about cardiac arrest wouldn’t have helped Eleanor either. But she could stop thinking otherwise. It was weighing heavily on her.

Should she finally speak to her psychologist about the memories that weren’t supposed to exist?

About the regression, she feared no one could ever believe.

But what if the psychologist labeled her mentally ill?

She closed her eyes when Alaric pressed his lips on her forehead. She opened them right after. Should she share about her regression with Alaric?

What if Alaric, the man who had become her safe haven, her home, couldn’t understand?

Worse, what if it created distance between them?

Fear clutched her tighter than the winter cold. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.

’No, no, no....’ She wanted to keep everything to herself and live through it.

But.... How long could she continue like this?

Suffering quietly, hiding the truth behind her poised smile.

Wouldn’t it eventually hurt her relationship with Alaric, the one person she didn’t want to lose?

She nestled closer to him, continuing to debate with herself in silence, while Alaric simply held her, his eyes dark with unspoken questions.

He didn’t press her, he never did. But he was clear. No matter the storm raging inside her, he was with her.