Chapter 394: Meeting

Abram kept silent and let Tilda walk away without a word.

That suited her just fine. She had wanted a moment with him. His words and his style could reveal more than anyone guessed.

“Mr. Jude, Mr. Bell wishes to speak with Ms. Tilda alone," Lucas said. “He asks that you wait here.” Lucas cut in quickly, as if he already knew what Jude would say.

Jude’s eyes narrowed and glimmered with danger.

“My grandfather knows I won’t just agree to that."

“Then he can only ask Ms. Tilda to leave. He may arrange another private meeting later.”

Jude’s jaw tightened. His eyes sparked with quiet rage. He knew this was a threat.

Tilda slid her hand against his arm. “Jude, let me see him. Trust me. I’ll be fine.” Her brows lifted with steady faith. Then, she faced Lucas with calm poise. “Please, lead the way.”

Lucas’s eyes flashed with surprise. “Alright.” He had met countless people, yet he saw this composure was true. It came from deep pride and certainty. Tilda trusted her own strength.

She believed she could step into fire and still walk out whole. With only a few words, she kept Jude from striking back. Abram’s judgment of her had been right.

Lucas led Tilda through twisting halls until they entered a garden with a fountain. A table held trays of pastries and the fragrance of fresh tea. “Please sit, Ms. Tilda. Mr. Bell will arrive soon.” Lucas bowed and stepped aside.

Tilda sat with her arms folded and gazed over the flowers like she owned them. Her face showed no fear.

Abram appeared with his hands behind his back and strolled toward her. “Ms. Tilda.”

“Hello,” she replied. Her tone was firm. She did not rise or offer him respect.

“No need for formality. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything you wish.” Abram smiled as he pulled out a chair and studied her with eyes cold as steel.

She lifted her cup and sipped as if nothing touched her.

“This is good. Whittard of Chelsea 1886? You recognize it? The method is theirs, but Lucas grew it himself.” Abram’s chuckle was soft. “My late wife and I loved his tea. His leaves are finer than the brand’s best.”

Tilda tasted it and found the truth. The flavor was bold and full, richer than any label.

“Ms. Tilda, you’re calmer than I thought. Most would worry if the food was tampered with.” His voice was smooth and kind, yet heavy with control. It did not match the man who had ordered his granddaughter’s fingers broken.

“If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t bother with poison.” She touched her nose with a small smile. “And even if you tried, I’d know. I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

Years of work with medicine had sharpened her sense of smell, and working with herbs all the time helped too. No drink or pastry could fool her. But of course, she did not tell Abram about that.

She knew Abram had not brought her here to kill her. At least not tonight. This was not yet a trap. Rebecca’s pain was only a curtain. The true purpose was tied to Jude.

“You only take action against this family when you’re sure of yourself, considering how you… went after one of us.”

Abram lifted his cup and drank slowly. A breath of contempt slipped from his lips. “Ms. Tilda… Should I call you that, or should I just call you Tilda?”

“Call me whatever makes you happy.”

“You don’t carry hate for me. You came here for Jude?”