All Chapters of A Bond Not Meant To Be : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Three months had passed since Lucille left the hospital, and not a week went by without a message or visit from Mitchell. He was always checking in, cracking jokes, or dropping by with flowers, real ones this time.But tonight was different.Tonight, he had asked her to dinner.A real dinner.Lucille stood in front of her mirror, heart pounding. She wore a soft peach dress that hugged her gently at the waist. Her curly hair was tied loosely to the side, and she wore the small pearl earrings her mom had given her years ago.When Mitchell’s text came—“I’m outside”—her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed her purse.Outside, Mitchell stood beside his car. He wore a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. He looked... breathtaking. His smile widened when he saw her.“You look... wow,” he said.Lucille blushed. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”He opened the door for her. “Shall we?”The restaurant he picked was a cozy rooftop place with warm lights, a soft breeze, and

"I know," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I love you."She closed her eyes, old memories flooding her mind. "Are you Mitch Jones?""Yes. Mitchell Jones," he answered quickly."The High Councilor?" she asked again, her voice shaky with fear."Who I am doesn’t matter, love," he said, pulling her closer and kissing her.But she gently turned her face away. "Were you a member of the Tribunal Council?" she asked again."Babe..." he said softly, his voice full of worry.She looked into his eyes. "Honey," she whispered. "You really don’t remember me?"Mitchell blinked, clearly confused, trying to understand where she was going with this."Edward Jones... he’s your cousin, right?" she asked.He gave a small nod. "Yeah."Her heart felt like it was breaking. She wrapped her arms around him, tears falling from her eyes. "I love you so much," she whispered.He didn’t know why she was crying, but he let her pour out her emotions.After a while, she lifted her head and looked at him. "I was Ed

Before leaving work, Lucille stopped by her manager’s office. She knocked softly, then pushed the door open.Mrs. Doyle was already gathering her things, ready to leave for the day.“Um… I applied for a two-week leave,” Lucille said quietly.Mrs. Doyle paused, setting her bag back on the table. Her eyes searched Lucille’s face with concern. “Is everything alright?”Lucille nodded quickly. “Yes.”“And the resignation?” Doyle pressed gently.“It was rejected,” Lucille admitted.A small smile curved Doyle’s lips. Since hearing about Lucille’s resignation, she had been unsettled. Lucille was one of their brightest, one she couldn’t imagine losing, not yet, not like this.“That’s good news,” Doyle said with quiet relief.Lucille managed a faint smile. “I won’t be sending in another one.”Doyle’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful.” But her joy soon faded. She stepped closer, studying Lucille carefully.“You know, I’m old enough to be your mother if only I’d met my mate earlier,” Doyle said softly. He

Meanwhile, Mitch Jones was not himself.It had been five days since Lucille was given the two weeks’ leave, and five days since he last saw her or heard her voice.Every night, Mitchell sat alone in his large, empty office, staring at his phone. Sometimes, he typed a message to her, but every time he deleted it before hitting send.The space she asked for was choking him, but he held on to one hope, that when the two weeks were over, she would walk back to him willingly.He missed her voice, her smile, her presence. The house she knew, the one she visited, wasn’t even his main house. He had moved there only to be closer to her, to make her feel that their difference in social status wasn’t too wide. But now, she already knew the truth.Glancing at the wall clock, he realized it was two hours past office closing. With a sigh, he stood, picked up his jacket, and called his aide.Not long after, he left the office.“To Dream Villa,” he instructed.The ride was long, but finally, they ar

The large sitting room of the Jones family was filled to the brim, the air heavy with unspoken words.On the largest sofa sat an aged man with a crown of grey hair. Dominic Jones, the patriarch, father to Williams and Andrea. His presence demanded silence, though the atmosphere already choked of it.To his right, Williams Jones sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly, his jaw locked in stone. On Dominic’s left, Andrea Jones lounged with crossed legs, his face unreadable, his fingers tapping restlessly on his phone.Edward Jones sat beside his father, head tilted back against the sofa, eyes closed as though he wanted to shut the world out. Around them, every sofa was occupied, except one.The silence stretched until Dominic’s voice broke it. His words were slow, weighed down by age and disappointment.“For the first time in this family’s history, this gathering feels suffocating.” His shaky voice echoed through the room. “How did we get here?”Andrea slipped his phone into his pocket and f