Chapter 756 Diana vs Dwayne: Eyes Reddened by Emotion 2
In the lounge, Diana was curled against Serafina's shoulder, her sobs muffled and restrained. Serafina stroked her sleek hair, sighing softly. "If you truly care for him, I can speak to him for you."
Diana's voice was low and shaky. "Father would call you reckless."
Serafina paused. "Jacob would stand by me... wouldn't he?"
Diana clung to her tighter, her cries breaking into quiet whimpers. She reminded herself it was Austin's Sip and See party—she'd only allow herself a few minutes of tears. After all, youth always came with its share of heartbreak.
A knock sounded at the door.
The voice beyond was calm, cultured. Serafina already knew who it was—it wasn't Jacob. She brushed Diana's hair once more. "I'll get it."
When she opened the door, it was no surprise. Dwayne stood there.
They exchanged a long, unreadable look before Serafina spoke softly, "You two should talk."
Dwayne nodded.
Serafina slipped out, leaving the quiet room behind.
Inside, Diana's sobs still filled the air. Was seeing him again truly this painful... or had the ache been there all along, lingering for years?
Dwayne stepped closer to the woman he had not seen in five years.
Back then, they hadn't been together long—barely begun before they were torn apart. She had just turned eighteen, bright-eyed and unguarded. Now, though she had matured, there was still something of the girl in her.
"Serafina," she murmured, reaching out to cling to him, thinking it was her friend.
The moment her arms closed around his waist, she knew something was wrong. Serafina's frame was never this solid. This was a man's body.
She lifted her gaze from his chest and found his face—striking, refined, yet edged with a quiet severity.
Her tears faltered. She stared at him, stunned. How could it be him? How could he come to her willingly? Weren't they meant to be strangers for the rest of their lives?
She looked at him, and he looked back.
After a long moment, Dwayne reached out. His long fingers brushed her cheek, feather-light, as if afraid she might break. There was tenderness there, wrapped in restraint.
Diana froze.
What was he doing?
He didn't ask why she was crying. He didn't ask if she had missed him. He didn't ask how she had been all these years—how could she have been well?
Time seemed to stop. The quiet lounge held only the weight of longing. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye, landing in the palm of his hand.
Outside, Oliver was walking past with Abigail.
Abigail pointed at the lounge door. "Aunt Diana... Mr. Larson."
Oliver frowned. Mr. Larson? The name clicked in his mind—Dwayne.
He pushed the door open.
Inside, a young man and woman stood in a tender embrace, Diana's tear caught in Dwayne's hand. Oliver's jaw tightened and he stepped forward.
But his leg was suddenly wrapped in a small pair of arms—Abigail.
She looked up at him, her voice soft and certain. "Aunt Diana likes Mr. Larson."
Oliver blinked.
He crouched down, gathering her into his arms. After a long pause, he murmured, "So you've noticed too."
Abigail tilted her head, planting a kiss on his cheek. "The book says the princess and the prince always end up together. Aunt Diana is the princess, Mr. Larson is the prince... and the prince is very handsome."
Oliver pinched her cheek, then carried her away.
Near the elevators, they ran into Serafina, who was looking for Abigail. She called out at once. "Dad."
Oliver's face remained cool, though his mind was still unsettled.
Serafina took Abigail from him.
Oliver suspected Serafina's hand in whatever had happened in the lounge. He gave her a pointed look, letting her puzzle it out herself.
That night, Serafina was still thinking about it.
Abigail had long since fallen into a happy sleep, and ten-month-old Anthony had been fed and was lying in his crib, counting his fingers. Serafina, fresh from the shower, sat at her vanity, replaying the expression on Oliver's face.
Was Oliver approving of Diana and Dwayne... or not?
Was he upset with her?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms circling her waist. Ten months after giving birth, her figure had returned to its former shape—though Jacob had preferred her softer curves and had made sure she was well cared for.
"Still dwelling on what Dad said?" he murmured.
"You're the only one in the family who treats his words like law. Who else would he pick on?"
Jacob's voice was warm with amusement, his mood clearly high tonight.
Serafina felt herself blush under his teasing, but she hadn't forgotten the matter at hand. Tilting her head back, she asked in a halting voice, "Do you think Dad approves... or disapproves of them?"
Jacob looked down at her glowing face, his tone tightening. "Whether he approves or not, he's not saying. But if we're making love tonight, I'd say that's a sign he approves."
His shamelessness left her breathless. Her fingers clutched at the folds of his robe, pulling him closer, until the bedroom was a tangle of fabric and heat.
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