Chapter 13
"Yes." Harper bit her lip, regretting her impulsiveness.
'I should brace myself for a figurative slap in the face. We'll get a divorce in two days. Francis won't acknowledge our relationship and invite trouble for himself,' she suspected.
"See, Francis? She admits it..." Amelia began, but she stopped mid-sentence, stunned to see the man draping his suit jacket over Harper's shoulders.
Even Harper herself was taken aback. Francis didn't explode with anger as she expected but instead seemed somewhat pleased.
'I must mistake his intentions,' she assured herself.
Though Harper wasn't short by any means, Francis's coat hung on her like a tent. Still, it failed to conceal her curves underneath.
Francis cleared his throat and subtly adjusted the top button of his coat, his movements carrying a hint of finesse. Harper’s cheeks flushed as her heart raced with excitement.
"Francis!" An untimely shriek shattered the moment.
Amelia's eyes were blazing with fury. "This shameless hussy is trying to seduce you. Don't let her fool you!"
Francis turned an icy glint in his eyes. "Throw her out."
Amelia froze, wondering, 'Throw what? Throw me out?'
"Francis, you must've misspoken, right?" Amelia said, her tone wavering with doubt. She was convinced Francis meant to banish the other woman but mistakenly addressed her.
The security guards had been eager to escort Amelia out. They stood beside her, one on each side. "Amelia, please..."
"Don't touch me!" Amelia shoved away the security guards' hands, disbelief etched on her face. "Francis, how could you do this to me for her?"
The more Amelia said, the icier Francis's gaze became. Now, his eyes were icy.
He looked to the nearby guards, commanding, "What are you waiting for?"
At his command, the guards gripped Amelia's arms and began to drag her out. She kicked and screamed, to no avail.
"Stop!"
A stern voice echoed down from the stairs, and Amelia's mother, Anna Hearts, descended like a storm, landing a kick on one of the guards.
"Are you blind? How dare you lay a finger on my daughter?"
Encouraged by her mother's arrival, Amelia gained momentum, crying out, "Mom, it's all because of that woman!"
Anna had some recollection of Harper, having heard she once saved Dylan and had since curried his favor.
Dylan also came down the stairs, watching the chaos unfold, his cane thudding heavily on the floor.
Upon seeing Dylan, Anna immediately turned on the waterworks, "Dylan, you have to do right by us. Now, even an outsider can take over your home and bully our Amelia!"
After her speech, she gave her daughter a covert pinch, and Amelia, catching on to her cue, cried even more pitifully, playing the victim.
"Wipe away those tears!" Francis demanded, his countenance darkening. He looked so intimidating that Amelia silenced her wails instantly.
The room fell into a sudden, welcome silence.
Anna could feel the tension in the room and hurriedly spoke up, "Francis, Harper is your cousin. You can't just take someone else's side and gang up on her!"
Dylan's voice, aged but authoritative, cut through the air, "What's going on here?"
Francis got straight to the point, "She splashed Harper."
Only then did Dylan notice the fruit juice dripping from Harper's hair, and his expression soured instantly.
Oblivious, Anna rambled on, "Surely, it's that girl's fault for provoking our sweet Amelia. She got what she deserved."
"That little witch deserved it!" Amelia chimed in senselessly.
As soon as Amelia finished her sentence, Francis shot a glacial glare at her so icy that she instinctively hid behind Anna.
Before Francis could erupt, Dylan had already raised his cane, pointing it sternly at Anna and Amelia, "You two! Get out of my house this instant!"
Shaking with anger, Dylan could hardly stand the sight of the two fools daring to disrespect Harper. He tapped his cane emphatically on the floor and added, "And don't let them back in."
Anna couldn't believe her ears. Dylan was known for his gentle nature with the younger generation, and yet here he was, furious like she'd never seen.
Her face quivered, wanting to plead for forgiveness, but the security guards were already ushering her out.
Within thirty seconds, both women were escorted out the door.
The room fell quiet once more.
Dylan approached Harper, his face etched with concern, " Harper, I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Dylan, I'm okay."
"Go change your clothes. Don't catch a cold."
In the ancestral home, there was always a room prepared for Harper, along with clothing for all seasons.
After changing her clothes, Harper went downstairs to join Dylan for dinner.
Francis sat beside her, and when the sautéed veal came around, he remembered she liked it and served her a piece.
Yet Harper was elsewhere in thought, idly pushing the food around with her fork. She pondered over the fact that Francis had gone to see Chloe.
'Why didn't he bring her along?
Perhaps Chloe's illness is the reason,' Harper mused.
Another thought crossed her mind. 'Francis was acting oddly. He seemed utterly unfazed by Amelia's outburst about our real relationship.'
But then she dismissed it. 'Amelia and Chloe are close. It's only a matter of time before Chloe finds out, so perhaps that's why he didn't care.'
Lost in her thoughts, Harper suddenly yelped as she felt a pinch on her thigh.
"Ouch!"
She turned abruptly to see Francis, who just took a sip of his soup gracefully. His hand had already retreated from her leg.
'What was he up to? Had he lost his mind?'
Harper's head buzzed, and her heart rate kicked up a notch, thumping wildly in her chest.
"What's wrong, Harper?" Dylan set down his fork, looking at her with concern.
"I... I choked a bit." Harper replied, her voice trembling with formality while her hands clenched tightly beneath the table, trying to suppress the heartbeat that threatened to escape her throat.
"Have more if you like it."
"I will, Dylan."
Harper let out a slow breath, but in the next instant, she heard Francis ask, "You haven't eaten anything. How could you choke?"
Harper fell silent. She seriously considered silencing him permanently.
Taking a deep breath, she faced Dylan's caring gaze and explained, "I got choked by my saliva..."
After saying that, she swallowed hard, accentuating the point.
"Ha ha, oh Harper, you must be trying to make me laugh," Dylan chuckled heartily. Looking at Harper, he said, "This makes me very happy."
As the moment passed, Harper seized the chance while Dylan wasn't looking to turn and mouth a question to Francis, "What are you doing?"
Francis's eyebrows lifted slightly. He had a smug on his face.
Outraged, Harper secretly reached out, intending to pinch him back.
Before she could touch him, her hand was caught and held firmly by his hand.
His grip enveloped her completely, his callused palm against her soft skin, creating a rough, friction-filled sensation.
To add to the turmoil, his fingertips lightly grazed the most sensitive part of her palm, igniting a tingling sensation that surged from her heart to her throat. Her pulse raced even faster.
Flushed, Harper tried inconspicuously to free herself, but he held on tightly, making escape impossible.
All she could do was to glare at him.
Yet Francis, ever the picture of elegance at the table, did not show any signs of disruption, as if he was not the one teasing her under the table.
His fingertips wrote three words in her palm.
It seemed to read, "Are you daydreaming?"
Her cheeks turned crimson, and she felt thoroughly irritated.
She thought, 'It was all because I had been pondering over your first love.'
Just then, Dylan, from across the table, noticed something was off. "Harper, why are you blushing?"
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