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From now on, water under the bridge.
Luciano walked over and shut the window tight. “What did he say?”
Cecilia looked pale, yet her eyes remainedposed. “He said it’spletely over between us.”
Luciano smiled. “Congrattions.”
The hollow ache in Cecilia’s chest settled.
Her tense nerves finally rxed.
She added, “Wesley mentioned seeing Noah, but didn’t give him candy.”
“I asked Noah. He said Uncle Wesley gave him the candy, but it wasn’t Wesley.”
Luciano frowned. “No surveince footage. No way to verify who the child meant.”
Cecilia entered the hospital room and questioned Noah again.
“He came after Uncle Wesley left. Told me to call him Uncle Wesley too, and gave me candy.”
Cecilia stroked his hair tenderly. “We never ept treats from strangers. Remember?
Noah blinked back tears. “I just wanted to taste candy.”
“Sorry, Mom. I won’t take things from strangers again.”
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He’d been frail since childhood.
Sweets were strictly off–limits.
But what child doesn’t crave sweets?
Now recovered, he longed to taste sugary treats.
Someone took advantage of that.
Cecilia held him close, heart aching too much for reprimands.
When Noah fell back asleep, she called the police about the other Uncle Wesley.
The police got a lead and immediatelyunched an investigation.
But results wouldn’te that fast.
Near midnight, Mrs. Wilkinson arrived, rushing through the autumn night wind, drenched in sweat.
She asked about Noah’s condition briefly, then insisted on speaking privately with Cecilia.
Cecilia agreed and followed her outside the ward.
“Ms. Zamora, I beg you–take Noah away from here.”
Mrs. Wilkinson pleaded tearfully.
Her panic was palpable.
“I’ll agree to any demand if you just take Noah away from Luciano.”
Mrs. Wilkinson gritted her teeth, “House or money–I’ll meet whatever you ask, Ms. Zamora.”
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Cecilia frowned.
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Earlier, Mrs. Wilkinson had gone to Baritel to persuade Luciano, but gave up after seeing his resolve.
Now, why suddenly revive this plea–and with such terror?
Too strange.
Cecilia sighed softly, “Mrs. Wilkinson, I can’t agree. Leaving is Luciano’s choice alone.”
“Ms. Zamora, will you just watch him—” Mrs. Wilkinson blurted furiously, then choked back her words.
“Ms. Zamora.”
Her tone softened, “If you just take Noah away, he’lle back to his senses and return home.”
Cecilia repeated the same words, “I can’t persuade him.”
Mrs. Wilkinson clenched her fist, “Do you realize that Noah was poisoned because—”
“Mom.”
Luciano suddenly spoke, cutting off Mrs. Wilkinson.
Seeing him, she turned away to wipe her tears.
Luciano patted Cecilia’s shoulder, “Go inside first. I’ll talk with her.”
Cecilia entered the hospital room.
Luciano’s expression turned icy. “Mom, what exactly have you been hiding from me?”
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Mrs. Wilkinson burst into tears.
“That Noah was poisoned–it was their warning to you.”
Fear trembled through her.
“Gwendolyn and Prisci’s deaths weren’t idents. They were deliberate.”
This secret had weighed on her for three years.
Finally, she spoke it aloud.
“Deliberate?”
Luciano couldn’t believe it.
A chill shot through him.
“Who?”
Mrs. Wilkinson turned deathly pale, old fears resurfacing.
“Luciano, Prisci’s death was fate. Listen to me–don’t get involved.”
She begged her son through tears.
Luciano pressed on: “You’re terrified. Do you know who did it?”
Mrs. Wilkinson shut her eyes. She’d known revealing this would make him dig deeper
But for his safety, hiding the truth was pointless now
“It was the Carlton family.”
Luciano instinctively nced toward the hospital room.
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The Carltons?
Did this involve Wesley?
Or Frank Davis Carlton?
Three years ago, Wesley already controlled the Carlton Group despite not being heir yet.
Frank hadn’t stepped down…
His head throbbed.
Mrs. Wilkinson wiped her tears, softly urging her son, “The Carltons control everything in Aetherton. Defying them will ruin you.”
Luciano stayed silent for a long moment.
Finally, he told his mother to leave. “Don’t tell Cecilia yet.”
He’d uncover exactly what happened three years ago.
Mrs. Wilkinson agreed but set her own terms. “Then promise me you won’t marry Cecilia.”
Luciano rubbed his temples. “I know.”
Mrs. Wilkinson left, heavy with worry.
Luciano returned to the hospital room where Cecilia was watching cartoons with Noah.
Seeing him enter, Cecilia asked, “What did your mother say?”
Avoiding specifics, Luciano ruffled Noah’s hair, his voice gentle. “You know she won’t allow our marriage.”
Cecilia chuckled. “Now that Wesley and I arepletely done, there’s
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no need for a marriage of convenience. You can tell her that.”
Luciano lowered his voice. “Mom mentioned Dad’s poor health. I’ve decided to go back.”
This “going back” meant embracing the path his mother desired, not merely returning home.
Cecilia epted this after a brief surprise.
“Certain?”
“Certain.”
Determination flickered in Luciano’s eyes. “Cecilia, please take Noah back to Baritel first.”
“I’m not returning to Baritel either,” Cecilia cut him off. “I’ve reimed ownership of the Holiday Series perfume and n to establish my own studio.”