Chapter 197

Mid-May, the elder Mr. Blackwood concluded his North American diplomatic tour and returned to England to bid farewell to his wife and son. The funeral for Andrew and Lady Blackwood was scheduled for May 17th. The day arrived beneath a gunmetal sky, heavy clouds pressing down like a physical weight, the atmosphere thick with unspoken grief.

Fifteen kilometers north of the Blackwood estate stretched a private cemetery. Generations of Blackwoods rested beneath its manicured grounds. Row upon row of headstones stood in dignified silence, sentinels marking time’s inexorable march and life’s inevitable conclusion. Today, two new markers joined their ranks, each bearing a name, birth date, and the same day of death.

Mourners in formal black moved quietly through the grounds, their faces drawn and solemn. The two graves were positioned one above the other, reflecting their generational difference. Floral tributes surrounded both headstones, white blooms stark against the rich earth.

As the ceremony began, the minister’s voice carried across the gathering, deep and measured, guiding the assembled through the rituals of farewell. The mourners bowed their heads in silent tribute. Time seemed to stretch, heavy with finality.

Finally came the moment of personal farewell. One by one, mourners stepped forward to place white chrysanthemums on the graves. Despite their complicated history with the Blackwood family, Randolph and Victoria had come to pay their respects. After placing their flowers, they offered simple condolences to the three remaining Blackwoods standing in a tight cluster.

As the service concluded, a young woman in a tailored black dress with a white flower in her hair approached. “Mr. Blackwood, Aunt Catherine,” she said softly, addressing the elder Mr. Blackwood and Catherine. The elder Mr. Blackwood acknowledged her with a bare nod. Catherine’s response was equally minimal. “Lucia.”

Having greeted them, the woman turned toward Asher. Her expression visibly softened, warmth creeping into her eyes. “Asher.” His face remained impassive; his response measured and distant: “Thank you for flying back for the funeral.”

Lucia’s gaze held barely concealed tenderness. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He responded with a noncommittal “Mm,” deliberately shifting his gaze away. The message couldn’t have been clearer.

Recognizing the dismissal, Lucia lowered her eyes, her lashes fluttering slightly. She pressed her lips together and turned away without another word. As the remaining mourners dispersed, Asher scanned the crowd one final time, searching for a face that never appeared. Disappointment flickered briefly in his eyes before he masked it.

That rainy night embrace now seemed dreamlike. Too perfect to have been real. Days had passed, yet he could still feel the phantom warmth of Thalia against him. Thalia’s wound hadn’t fully healed, her doctor advising against unnecessary movement. Though she’d wanted to attend the funeral, Randolph had put his foot down. So she remained in her hospital room, chafing against the restriction. She’d been texting Charlotte for updates throughout the day.

Victoria hadn’t attended either. Witnessing Andrew’s suicide had left deep psychological wounds. Nightmares plagued her sleep, leaving her waking up screaming. For weeks now, she’d remained secluded at home, receiving intensive therapy. Thalia called every few days to check on her. Sebastian always answered, his voice tight with concern as he reported Victoria’s slow progress.

After the funeral, Charlotte finally returned Thalia’s messages with a call. “Hey,” Charlotte said, her voice hushed as she walked toward her car. “Just leaving now. The service was… appropriately somber.” Knowing what Thalia really wanted to know, Charlotte added quietly, “Asher’s holding up. Don’t worry too much.” Thalia exhaled softly. “That’s good to hear.”

As Charlotte continued chatting, she glanced up and froze mid-step at the sight of a familiar face approaching. Her voice died mid-sentence as Lucia Schulz closed the distance between them. “Charlotte,” Lucia greeted with practiced warmth. “Been a while.”

“Charlotte? What happened?” Thalia’s confused voice came through the phone. “Something’s come up,” Charlotte responded quickly. “I’ll call you back later, alright?” “Sure.” Ending the call, Charlotte met Lucia’s gaze directly. “Indeed it has.”

“Free for dinner?” Lucia asked, her tone casual but purposeful. “My treat.” Charlotte hesitated, weighing her options. Her instinct was to refuse, but then she recalled Lucia’s history with Asher. The calculation shifted. Lucia had obviously flown in specifically for the funeral and had just spoken with Asher. This dinner invitation wasn’t merely social—Lucia clearly wanted information about Asher’s current situation. Similarly, Charlotte wanted to gauge whether Lucia still harbored ambitions regarding him.

“Why not,” Charlotte agreed. “I’ll need to change first. You choose the place.” “Perfect,” Lucia replied. “I’ll message you details.” Charlotte responded with a cool “Mm-hmm.” As Lucia walked away, Charlotte exhaled deeply.

Should she tell Thalia about Lucia’s reappearance? Despite their breakup, Thalia and Asher clearly still had unresolved feelings. Now that Malfoy was behind bars and Lady Blackwood was gone, reconciliation seemed increasingly possible…

Chapter 197

7:30 PM. A private dining room at an exclusive restaurant owned by Schulz Corp gleamed with understated luxury. Lucia and Charlotte sat across from each other, initial pleasantries exchanged. After requisite catching up, Lucia took a deliberate sip of tea before asking directly: “So Asher and Thalia really broke up?”

Though based abroad for years, Lucia had monitored Asher’s life with unwavering attention. His engagement to Thalia last year had devastated her for weeks. The Schulz and Blackwood families shared connections spanning generations. In her childhood, there had even been half-serious jokes about her and Asher making a perfect match.

Asher had been Lucia’s first love, the standard against which she measured all others. Despite her exceptional beauty and family credentials—qualities that attracted constant attention from eligible men—Lucia remained fixated on Asher, whose brilliance simply outshone everyone else. Before leaving for university abroad, she had actually confessed her feelings. She was nineteen then, about to depart for her studies overseas. Hoping to leave without regrets—and perhaps secretly wishing he might ask her to stay—she’d taken the risk. His rejection had been absolute.

“I’m sorry, but my heart is already taken,” he had told her directly. “May I ask who?” she’d managed to ask. Without hesitation: “Thalia Winters.” Lucia knew of Thalia. The Winters heiress, her contemporary. They occasionally crossed paths at social functions—nodding acquaintances who moved in the same circles without truly intersecting.

Learning of Asher’s feelings for Thalia had stung sharply. But even through her jealousy, she couldn’t deny Thalia’s appeal. The woman had reportedly been campus royalty from secondary school through university. Beyond her beauty, Thalia excelled academically while collecting impressive achievements across multiple domains—national youth golf champion, piano competition special prize winner, and an art prodigy with accolades dating back to childhood. Among elite families in their circle, cultivating talent in arts and culture was expected, but few achieved Thalia’s level of excellence across so many fields.

Pride had prevented Lucia from persisting after rejection. She had even composed herself enough to say, “I can respect losing to her. But this isn’t over.” She hadn’t finished the thought aloud. I’ll become exceptional enough for you to notice me.

Now, having asked her question, Lucia felt her heart quicken nervously. The breakup had happened in January—over four months ago. Sufficient time for reconciliation. She dreaded hearing what she didn’t want to know.