Semua Bab Love Lies and Deceit: Bab 21 - Bab 30

* Julliane * "Did your visitor leave, Jullie?" Mrs. Perez, the old house servant, called out to me from the archway that opened into the living room. Her voice carried a warmth that always brought back childhood memories of rainy afternoons and freshly baked bread with my grandpa. I turned to her and nodded briefly. "Yes, Nana," I replied softly. She walked slowly across the room and sat in the chair across from me, her hands folded neatly in her lap. After a pause, she cleared her throat, a gentle signal that she had something important to say. "It's been on my mind for some time now, Jullie," she began, her eyes not quite meeting mine. "I've stayed in this house far longer than I thought I would. When your grandfather passed, I didn't want to leave you alone, so I remained. But now... now you've grown into a strong young woman, and the time has come for me to go home, to my family in the village. My grandchildren want me to retire, to spend time with them while I still can.

* Julliane *Inside the plane, Lance and I sat shoulder to shoulder in silence. The hum of the engines was the only thing filling the awkward void between us. I tried to keep my mouth shut, to not stir anything, especially not with him. Lance leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, calm in appearance, yet I knew better. Being near him for more than an hour felt like walking barefoot on glass, tense, sharp, and inevitable. He was the kind of man you didn't want as an enemy. There was no softness in him when he was angry, no patience, no room for explanation. Just cold judgment.My heart throbbed faintly with the memory of the day he threw me out of the Magnolia Manor. The image was etched in me like a scar that never faded. He didn't ask for my side of the story. No questions, no hesitation just his voice full of condemnation and the door slammed behind me. Just like his father, Mr. Primo Dankworth, who I once believed was kind. Who I once trusted to protect me.I glanced at Lance now, t

As I finished the last bite of my food, my gaze inevitably drifted to him.Lance.He was leaning back casually against the sturdy trunk of a tree, legs stretched out on the picnic mat beneath us. The dappled sunlight danced across his skin, catching on his features like a lover's touch. I couldn't look away. I didn't want to. There was something about the way he sat there relaxed, effortlessly masculine, that made my heart beat faster, made my breath catch in my throat.My eyes lingered on his face, memorizing it like I hadn't seen it a thousand times before in my memories. His features were painfully handsome. Lance was the same man I used to know, but he was even more defined now, and still a stunning one at that. His dark brows were perfectly defined, and his lashes were so long they looked like they didn't belong to a man. Yet they framed his eyes with such intensity that even closed, they seemed to burn with unspoken emotion.His nose, straight and bold, gave him an air of quiet

* Julliane *As soon as we arrived at the back entrance of Magnolia Manor, the golden afternoon sun bathed the sprawling estate in a soft glow. The scent of blooming roses lingered in the air, carried by the breeze that rustled the ivy-covered walls. The sound of hooves on gravel faded as we dismounted, and just ahead, a graceful figure approached with deliberate steps. Lance has a visitor.A beautiful woman in a pale yellow summer dress walked toward us, her long chestnut hair glinting in the light, her silhouette framed by the flowering arbor. She moved with practiced elegance, the click of her three-inch sandals echoing softly as she crossed the courtyard.It was Sylvia.I recognized her immediately. How could I not, after all I'd heard? Her name had floated on the lips of many, often followed by hushed gossip, especially when it came to Lance. I'd heard they were still together."Hi, Lance!" she greeted brightly, her voice light but tinged with something sharper beneath the surfac

* Julliane *The next day, Darren arrived from the United States. It was his first visit home in years, and unsurprisingly, the family mausoleum was his first destination. He said nothing to anyone, his eyes heavy with fatigue and sorrow as he quietly excused himself from the welcome crowd. I followed him from a distance, not wanting to intrude on his grief, but wanting to be near just in case he needed someone.He stayed there for hours, by the marble tomb that bore the name of his father, Mister Primo Dankworth. He sat on the cold stone bench, staring at the engraved name like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment. His shoulders remained hunched in quiet mourning. No one dared approach him, the air around him felt sacred. I watched from afar, my heart heavy, because I understood what he was going through. His world had shifted, and nothing could ever go back to how it used to be.When night fell and he still hadn't come back to the house, I decided to check on him. He di