Chapter 519
[ 494 words ]
Chapter 519:
The insults were vile, personal, designed to wound. But Caroline didn’t react. She didn’t defend herself. She just looked at him. And in her eyes, he saw no anger. He saw a profound, weary sadness. A deep, unsettling compassion.
She knew. From Agnes’s story, she knew about the broken home, the absent father, the cold, manipulative mother. She saw him not as an enemy, but as another victim of the family’s poison.
Her pity was more infuriating than any counter-attack could have been. It stripped him of his anger, leaving him feeling like a petulant, screaming child. He felt exposed, foolish.
With a cry of pure frustration, he kicked the water bottle, sending it skittering across the marble floor. He turned to leave, to escape the suffocating weight of his own humiliation.
“The General has ordered all family members to the formal dining room,” Alistair said, his voice cold and unyielding. “Immediately. For dinner.”
Peregrine’s back went rigid. He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. In this house, the General’s orders were absolute. They were law.
He let out a string of curses under his breath, then, without another word, he stalked off in the direction of the dining room, his shoulders hunched in anger and defeat.
𝘛𝘩е 𝘮𝗼𝗌𝗍 рo𝘱𝘶𝗹𝖺𝗋 𝗻𝗈𝗏e𝗹s 𝗈𝗻 𝗀а𝗅𝗇𝗼𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝗼𝘮
The corridor was quiet again.
Alistair turned to Caroline, his expression softening. “My sincerest apologies for my nephew’s behavior, Mrs. Romero. It was inexcusable.”
Caroline shook her head, a small, wry smile touching her lips. “Don’t be,” she said. “At least with him, the hatred is honest. It’s out in the open. I prefer that to the kind that comes with a smile and a poisoned cup.”
A look of deep respect, of genuine admiration, dawned in Alistair’s eyes. He was beginning to understand why the General was so taken with this young woman. She had a spine of pure steel.
He offered her his arm. “The General is waiting,” he said. “Shall we?”
Caroline took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her simple dress. She took his arm, ready to walk into the heart of the storm.
Alistair pushed open the towering, red-lacquered doors to the formal dining room. The sudden flood of light from a massive crystal chandelier was almost blinding.
At the head of a long, gleaming mahogany table, General Romero sat enthroned in a high-backed, carved chair. He looked every inch the patriarch, a king in his court.
The moment he saw Caroline, the stern, forbidding lines of his face softened. A genuine, warm smile broke through the military discipline.
“There you are, my dear,” he boomed, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. He gestured to the empty chair at his right hand, the seat of honor. “Come, sit.”
Caroline walked the length of the room, feeling the invisible weight of history in the air. She took her seat, leaning toward him. “I’m sorry for the delay, Grandpa,” she murmured. “I got turned around.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. This house is a labyrinth. Tomorrow, we’ll get you a golf cart.”
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