Chapter 717
Chapter 717:
William’s expression was always the same—cool and distant. His eyes were like deep, frozen water, keeping everyone, including her, at arm’s length. Every time she saw him, she would drop her gaze, pretending not to notice him.
The truth was, she just didn’t know how to face him anymore.
Meanwhile, Lance had picked up on her low spirits.
But as a guest in her home, one still recovering from injuries, he knew it wasn’t his place to get involved in whatever was going on between her and William. Instead, he quietly focused on healing, sometimes helping with chores as a way to show thanks.
That evening, the last light of the setting sun spilled through the tall windows, bathing the living room in a soft orange glow.
Lance, now in a clean, well-fitting T-shirt Stella had bought him, stretched his arms and shoulders, testing how much strength had returned.
He glanced toward the kitchen where Stella was working, his face unusually serious. “Ms. Gilbert?”
“What is it?” Stella turned from the stove, ladle still in hand, when she heard Lance’s voice.
His tone was steady, his eyes held a rare sincerity. “Would you come with me to Briset tomorrow? My parents found out you saved me, and they want to thank you in person. They’ve arranged a small banquet at home.”
“A banquet?” Stella asked, surprised.
After a brief pause, she waved it off. “That’s not necessary. It was pure chance I saved you—you don’t need to thank me.”
“No, you have to come.” Lance cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “They already called me. They want to meet you and thank you themselves. Even if you don’t stay for dinner, just show up for ten minutes.”
His words were firm, but his eyes—bright with anticipation—waited for her agreement.
Stella studied him. There was something in his gaze, layered beneath that earnestness, that she couldn’t quite name.
She’d been ready to refuse… until a thought flashed through her mind. Lance was at the mountain where her adoptive parents had lost their lives, and now his parents wanted to meet her. If she met his family, could she pick up a thread—some clue from that year? Maybe not just Lance, but his parents might know something too.
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If she wanted answers about her adoptive parents, the Carter family wasn’t a road she could avoid.
Pushing down her hesitation, she gave it a little more thought, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll go.”
The top-floor banquet hall of a riverside club in Briset shimmered under a massive crystal chandelier.
The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city and the endless flow of the river below.
Inside, laughter mingled with the soft clink of glasses. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant gowns filled the space—an entire world of polished manners and old money.
.
.
.