As March approaches, the weather in Imperial City has beco slightly warr.
Today, Sebastian Prescott is wearing a brown single-breasted suit, losing so of his intellectual elite style, but gaining a touch of noble leisure.
The last ti they t was before New Year’s.
It’s been about twenty-two or three days since then.
However, on WeChat, he sent her a "Happy New Year" ssage at midnight on New Year’s Eve, and intermittently sent other ssages afterward.
Most of them were just greetings, except for four days ago when he ntioned the case of reclaiming property, and that he had sent Vivian Nash a copy of the lawsuit.
Counting the ti, Vivian should have received it yesterday or today.
It’s uncertain how well Vivian’s body has recovered after her miscarriage.
She stood up and said softly, "Mrs. Troy left about seven or eight minutes ago. Sit down for a while, would you like so black coffee?"
When Sebastian entered the office, his expression was composed, his brows tightly furrowed.
Now knowing Eleanor Troy had left, his brows knit even tighter.
He looked at Sienna Monroe’s strikingly beautiful face, as if trying to capture a trace of anger or similar emotions from it.
Unfortunately, there was none.
She was very calm, no different from usual.
He stepped in and stood before her desk, pursed his lips, and said softly, "No need to trouble you. Sorry for causing you discomfort.
I apologize for my mother’s abruptness, rudeness, and lack of decorum."
Sienna listened to his words, gazing at his sharp, cold features.
For a while, she couldn’t utter the phrase "it’s okay."
Her slightly stiff fingers moved, hesitatingly asking, "Did you tell Mrs. Troy...?"
Sebastian shook his head, "No, it’s not yet ti to say anything."
Implying that it had to wait until she agreed.
Only then would it be logical.
Sienna’s confusion deepened, "Then why does Mrs. Troy think I’m with you? She even ca to find several tis, saying..."
Looking at her tense jawline, Sebastian guessed that his mother must have said a lot of unpleasant things.
Indeed.
His mother’s nature couldn’t produce any kind words.
His expression turned cold, suddenly aware of this detail, he asked quietly, "Has she co to see you many tis?"
Sienna said, "Yes. Today was a scheduled eting; I initially thought she wanted to discuss collaborating with the art gallery."
The depth of Sebastian’s eyes showed a hint of darkness.
He also perceived sothing unusual.
Eleanor Troy was soone who rarely went out; the last ti she did was three years ago for his grandfather’s funeral.
Went back to Crestview for the arrangents.
Yet this ti, she visited Southcroft multiple tis to see Sienna.
No matter how you think about it, it’s unreasonable.
He continued to ask, "What did she say to you?"
This...
Those words she couldn’t repeat.
Sienna hesitated briefly, decided to summarize, "She said we aren’t suitable..."
Actually, what Eleanor Troy said was quite reasonable.
She and Sebastian truly weren’t suitable.
However, before she could finish speaking, Sebastian intercepted, "Don’t take what my mom said to heart, don’t listen to her. She has no say in my affairs.
Rest assured, such incidents won’t happen again, I’m sorry."
Sienna looked into his deep phoenix eyes but couldn’t catch any other emotions from him.
His apology at this mont was pure and sincere.
A mont later, she didn’t say much more, just lightly nodded, "Okay."
Sebastian then said, "This matter is a bit unusual, I need to make a trip to Westwood."
"Alright."
Sienna attempted to see him off for a few steps but was stopped by him, "No need to see off, just continue with your work."
He left the office, his expression darkened again, fists slightly clenched, driving directly back to Westwood.
Apart from holidays, or when Old Mrs. Prescott is present, or for work, he rarely returns to Westwood.
The Prescott Estate is unlike modern luxurious residences perched on hills or in villa zones.
Its layout resembles an ancient four or five-section estate, occupying a very large area, situated in an old alley.
The towering red lacquered gates exude magnificence.
This grand estate, however, seems extrely quiet, lacking much vitality.
The servants walked and talked in very light tones.
All feared disturbing Eleanor Troy in the inner courtyard.
The Prescott Family had an unwritten rule, no guests during holidays or regular tis.
Eleanor Troy is unlike other noble ladies who frequently gather for cards or beauty treatnts.
She is like a woman trapped in an ancient large courtyard, living in that confined space for years, rarely speaking much.
Sebastian and Eleanor Troy nearly arrived at the sa ti.
They t under the corridor in the Third Courtyard of Corbin.
The weather is nice today, the sun bright and warm, yet Sebastian’s presence seed enveloped in icy frost.
Eleanor Troy gave him just one glance before walking past him.
Entering the main hall of The Fifth Courtyard, a middle-aged woman carrying a tray approached, nodding slightly to her and Sebastian behind her.
"Madam, Second Young Master."
Sebastian said nothing, casually taking a seat in one of the grand chairs.
He knew his mother had dicine scheduled at three and four in the afternoon, which had already passed.
Eleanor Troy’s illness had persisted for many years and was never particularly stable; she occasionally had ntal disturbances and required many dications daily.
The middle-aged woman beside her offering dication and water was Ms. Dunn, commonly called Ms. Dunn by those at The Prescott Residence.
She has cared for Eleanor Troy for over twenty years.
She is also Joy Prescott’s biological mother.
During Eleanor Troy’s dication, soone served Sebastian tea, as his tea reached midway, Eleanor Troy completed her dication.
Her cold face showed a hint of fatigue, her brows tightly knitted, seemingly tired of the whole dication process.
Ms. Dunn sensed the Second Young Master had sothing to discuss with the Madam, so she took the tray and led several servants outside, leaving.
The spacious main hall suddenly beca silent.
Sebastian looked at her and straightforwardly asked, "Why did you go find Sienna?"
"She’s not suitable for The Prescott Family."
Eleanor Troy gently pressed her forehead, seeming to have a headache, her voice lacking warmth.
Not suitable?
Ha.
Sebastian wasn’t angry, his expression remained calm, yet his heart stirred with a sense of ridicule.
He attempted a different question, "Then how did you know about Sienna? Who told you?"
Eleanor Troy, upon hearing this, gazed directly at his face, "Are you now going to talk to as if I’m a criminal? She’s divorced; simply not suitable for our Prescott Family.
What? Has our Prescott Family fallen so low as to marry soone divorced?"
Listening to this, Sebastian seed to vividly experience Sienna’s feelings upon hearing such words.
With eyes infused with icy intent focused on her, the vast hall filled instantly with a tense atmosphere like drawn crossbows and unsheathed swords.
His voice also turned icy, even harboring a slight mockery.
"You’ve avoided intervening in my life for over twenty years, and now, pretending to care who I fancy, who I want to be with, who I plan to marry, who are you performing this for?"
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