Chapter 130

In the garden, hyacinths released their subtle fragrance as a cold wind brought gentle rain. Raindrops landed softly on Thalia’s hair, running down in tiny rivulets. She stood in the wind, unsteady on her feet. Her influenza hadn't fully subsided, and the cold wind made her head ache again.

Hearing Asher’s words, Thalia concealed the sorrow in her eyes, raising her gaze to meet his. “Yes, you should remember to take it off in the future.”

Asher’s throat tightened painfully. Thalia’s soft voice, carried on the wind to his ears, was heartbreakingly fragile, despite her efforts to hide it. “I understand. When you loved me, it was real. And when you stopped loving me, that was real, too.”

A sudden chill ran down Asher’s spine, quickly spreading throughout his body. Thalia’s eyes reflected a calm resignation, a serenity tinged with profound sadness. “I admit I couldn’t accept it at first. You promised you’d always be by my side. I couldn’t understand why you changed so suddenly. I tried to find reasons, tried to understand your difficulties, but you said I was deluding myself. Now I understand—who can predict matters of the heart?”

Asher felt a sharp pain in his chest, a flash of anguish crossing his eyes. “Promises only count when you’re in love,” Thalia said, her voice so faint it was nearly lost in the wind.

As Asher listened and observed her melancholic face, uncontrollable fear spread through him. He was terrified. He feared that once he resolved the situation with Tom Malfoy, they might never be able to return to what they once had. He couldn’t imagine a future without Lia.

Through the rain, Thalia gazed quietly at Asher’s features. After a long moment, she smiled, forcing a lightness into her voice: “Asher, I wish you happiness.”

Asher’s pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively reached out, but she had already turned away without a backward glance. The tassels of her burgundy scarf brushed against his hand, a light, tickling sensation.

Pain etched itself across Asher’s face as he unconsciously took two steps forward, as if to follow her. Finally, unable to contain himself, he called out: “Lia…”

The young woman paused momentarily, but quickly resumed walking. She didn’t look back. Not even once. Asher took two steps in pursuit before stopping. He told himself he couldn’t continue; all his efforts would be wasted, and Thalia’s suffering would have been for nothing. He had to resolve the threat from Tom Malfoy before he could return to Lia’s side.

He returned to his private residence. The spacious room felt cold and empty. Asher sat on the sofa, as if his soul had been hollowed out, staring blankly into space. The sun set in the west, its last rays illuminating the desolation on his face. He sat there alone, motionless, like a statue. Daylight faded as dusk descended; the room gradually darkened.

After an indeterminate time, Asher slowly lowered his gaze, staring fixedly at his watch. After a long while, he carefully removed it and placed it gently in its box. As he closed the lid, a burning sensation suddenly spread in his eyes. The feeling was unfamiliar, sudden, and forceful, leaving him defenseless.

Drip. A tear fell onto the metal box. The darkness concealed his reddened eyes, but the moonlight traced the outline of his solitary, forlorn figure.

A few days later, guests arrived at the Blackwood Estate. The Fitzgeralds were a distinguished London family, known for their academic heritage. Professor Fitzgerald was a renowned English literature professor at Cambridge University. His wife, Camilla Fitzgerald, was a celebrated contemporary essayist. Their only son worked as an administrative officer in the local government. Their daughter-in-law was a member of The National Writers’ Union and a popular novelist. Their granddaughter, Alice Fitzgerald, had completed both her undergraduate and master’s degrees at Oxford University, one of the country's top-ranked universities.

Camilla Fitzgerald and Mabel Blackwood, Asher’s grandmother, had long been acquainted, and due to the Fitzgerald son’s governmental position, the two families occasionally socialized. Before the holiday, Camilla had invited Mabel to a hyacinth viewing party, where Alice Fitzgerald had impressed Mabel with her conduct and conversation. Upon returning home, Mabel conceived the idea of matchmaking her grandson, Asher, with Alice Fitzgerald.

The Blackwoods didn’t lack wealth, but Mabel favored the scholarly Fitzgerald family over wealthy families like the Winters. After Mabel shared her thoughts with Camilla, she found that the elder lady’s thinking aligned perfectly with her own. Camilla had only one son working in government; a marriage between the families would certainly benefit his career prospects.

When Asher refused to visit the Fitzgerald home, Mabel instead invited the Fitzgerald family to their estate. She kept this visit a secret from Asher, merely telling him they would be having a family dinner and that his presence was required. Since most Blackwood Industries companies would resume operations after St. Patrick’s Day, and Lord Blackwood Sr. would be returning to Parliament, the family traditionally held a dinner at this time. Thus, Asher had no reason to suspect anything unusual about his grandmother’s request.

As soon as Asher entered the house, he heard laughter from the main hall. He handed his coat to a maid and asked, “Has someone come to visit today?”

The maid smiled and replied, “Yes, sir. The Fitzgerald family has come to pay their respects for the holiday.”

Asher frowned slightly. “The Fitzgeralds? Which Fitzgeralds?”

The maid answered, “The same Fitzgerald family that Lady Blackwood wanted you and your mother to visit. Their granddaughter is here as well.”

With this information, Asher immediately understood. It seemed the family dinner was merely a pretext; his grandmother’s true intention was to arrange a match for him.

As they were speaking, Grace spotted Asher. She hurried over, appearing quite urgent. “Asher, Alice Fitzgerald is here. This is a matchmaking setup. I’d advise you to find an excuse to leave.”

“Is that Asher who’s arrived?” Lady Blackwood’s voice called out, causing Grace’s expression to freeze. The elderly lady approached, arm-in-arm with Alice Fitzgerald, smiling broadly. “Asher, you’ve finally arrived. We’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

Asher’s gaze barely skimmed over Alice’s face; his tone reflected complete indifference. “Grandmother, I’m afraid there’s been an urgent matter at the company that requires my attention. I won’t be staying for dinner. I just came to collect some documents from Father’s study.”

“But St. Patrick’s Day has only just passed. The holiday hasn’t even ended yet,” the elderly lady said, her penetrating gaze sweeping over Asher. Her tone was measured but pointed. “I am, after all, a member of the board of directors and a shareholder. Surely any urgent project would require approval from the board? I’m not aware of any urgent projects at the company recently.”