"What do you mean by no one wants you?" Dominic Vance growled, each word carrying a heavy, oppressive weight: "What I want to do, who I choose, does not require anyone's permission, and it is certainly not the place of others to point fingers and interfere."
He used his thumb to wipe away the teardrop still lingering at the corner of Lucien's eye, his voice still carrying a cold edge: "From now on, in this house, you do not need to bow your head in apology or yield to anyone. Miles Sinclair is not worthy, do you understand?"
The very moment Dominic Vance uttered those words, Lucien knew he had officially discarded the status of Miles's "fiance" in the eyes of this man.
"Yes..." Lucien nodded obediently, his wet eyes looking up at Dominic with full admiration and dependence.
It was precisely this innocent yet affectionate gaze that caused Dominic's reason to snap completely. He let out a low growl from his throat, his arms tightening around Lucien's waist, pressing that fragile body flush against his own. This intimate friction made Lucien instantly feel a massive, rigid, and burning hot entity aggressively prodding against his tender thigh.
It was fully aroused again! The recovery speed of the protagonist was truly monstrous!
Lucien's spine stiffened, the panic this time being entirely genuine. He struggled slightly, weakly pushing against Dominic's chest: "Please do not... Dominic... I truly cannot take any more... I will break..."
Looking at Lucien's face, pale from sheer exhaustion, Dominic gritted his teeth, desperately trying to suppress the scorching heat surging straight down to his lower abdomen. He took a deep breath, his large hand delivering a firm smack to the plump buttock that still bore his red handprint, and warned in a hoarse voice.
"I will spare you for today. Get some rest. Next time... do not even dream of leaving the bed."
Saying that, Dominic loosened his embrace, helping Lucien lie down on the bed and carefully pulling the blanket all the way up to his neck. However, the exact moment Lucien's silk sleeve slid down, a peculiar mark caught Dominic's sharp gaze.
He paused, grabbing Lucien's wrist and turning it upward.
Resting on the inner side of the skinny arm, peeking out from beneath the pale, translucent skin, was an old, faded scar. It had a small, circular, and rough shape, completely unlike a wound caused by a blunt impact. Looking closely, it was clearly the trace of a cigarette burn, deliberately pressed directly into the flesh a long time ago.
Dominic's eyes instantly turned bone-chillingly cold. He used his thumb to gently trace over that rough, uneven scar.
"Where did this come from?" he asked in a deep, solemn voice.
Lucien retracted his hand as if he had been burned, hastily hiding his arm beneath the blanket, shaking his head in panic: "No... it is nothing... I accidentally burned myself when I was a child..."
It was exactly this evasion and hastily concealed demeanor that further confirmed the speculation forming in Dominic's mind. Accidentally burned? What kind of accidental burn would look exactly like a cigarette ash purposefully crushed into the skin like this?
Recalling the words his mother had once said about Lucien being oppressed by his stepmother, and the frantic, deranged appearance of Miles Sinclair just moments ago, Dominic seemed to finally understand what kind of status this young man had lived with in this house for all these years.
Right as the atmosphere sank into a suffocating and oppressive silence, the screen of Dominic's phone resting on the table suddenly lit up.
Dominic let go of Lucien's hand, walking over to pick up the phone.
The message was sent by Mr. Sinclair, the head of the Sinclair family. The phrasing outwardly bore the facade of an elder, but every single word clearly revealed the caution, submission, and careful probing of someone in a distinctly weaker position.
[Dominic, I will be flying back earlier than expected tonight. If you do not mind, please come down to the main dining room to have dinner with me at seven o'clock. Miles just called me crying profusely, and I am still not entirely sure what happened between the two of you. Can we sit down and talk for a bit?]
Dominic's gaze swept over the message, the corners of his lips lifting into an utterly cold and disdainful smirk. So, right after being kicked out, he immediately called to tattle to the adults? How very capable.
Miles was no longer throwing a mad tantrum. His silence after leaving turned out to be the preparation for a much more venomous counterattack. He knew perfectly well that the Sinclair family was completely overshadowed by the Vance family, so he could only borrow the thin, fragile dignity of Mr. Sinclair as an elder to salvage the situation, hoping to seize the opportunity to trample over Lucien once again.
Dominic tossed the phone to the side, turning back to look at Lucien. Lucien had his eyes tightly shut, his breathing steady, following the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, seemingly having fallen into a deep slumber from sheer exhaustion.
He leaned down, gently tucking the corner of the blanket around Lucien, a calculation already forming in his mind. He wants to use the title of future father-in-law to make things difficult, to force his hand? Very well, let us see who will be the one crying tonight.
The steady patter of water echoing from the bathroom continued relentlessly, and through the frosted glass door, the tall, imposing silhouette of Dominic could occasionally be seen pressed against the surface.
On the massive bed, Lucien slowly opened his eyes. The physiological tears and the panicked, vulnerable demeanor from moments ago had been wiped completely clean, leaving not a single trace, making way for a pair of eyes that were crystal clear yet as deep, cold, and tranquil as a frozen winter lake.
He braced one hand against the mattress, frowning slightly as an agonizing, tearing ache transmitted straight from his lower half to his brain. Every single joint, every muscle fiber in his body was screaming in protest, completely drained and weary after being crushed by the terrifying strength of the protagonist. Lucien slowly flipped the edge of the blanket away, lowering his head to evaluate his current physical state.