CHAPTER 478: THEY ARE CHAINED

"Forget about harsh words or violence,"

Taylor picked up the wine glass Vicente had poured for him, his dark eyes fixed intently on the other man with piercing sharpness.

"But you know exactly what I expect," he continued, his voice still smooth and composed, yet laced with an unmistakable gravity.

"If you can’t meet those conditions, I won’t entrust Melissa to you completely."

Taylor knew the girl he had painstakingly raised like a treasure all too well—delicate, timid, unable to weather life’s storms.

The foremost requirement for gaining his approval was ensuring Melissa a life of absolute stability and peace.

This was his bottom line—as her elder brother, as the only blood relative she had left.

"Don’t worry," Vicente lowered his glass slightly, clinking it against Taylor’s, his stern face etched with solemnity.

"My word is my bond."

A few simple words, yet they carried the weight of one man’s most solemn vow to another.

Sinclair glanced at the two of them, his expression unreadable.

Camilla’s eyes flickered with sudden understanding, as if she had pieced something together.

Melissa was unfortunate, having lost her parents at a young age.

Yet she was also fortunate—she had a brother like Taylor.

The thought of family made her mind drift to her grandfather, and for a fleeting moment, her gaze dimmed.

Sinclair noticed the subtle shift in her mood immediately.

Sinclair cradled her hand in his own, his voice low and steady.

"What’s wrong?"

His deep, obsidian eyes seemed to pierce straight into her soul.

"It’s nothing," Camilla murmured, shaking her head before leaning against his shoulder, her voice just as quiet.

"Pregnancy hormones are all over the place—mood swings are normal.

Don’t worry."

Sinclair didn’t respond, but his grip on her hand tightened slightly.

Meanwhile, Melissa, the oblivious center of attention, blinked in confusion at the knowing looks exchanged around her.

She turned to her brother and then to her boyfriend, Vicente, her voice laced with bewilderment.

"Demands?

What demands did you make?

What did you say to Vincent?"

Taylor took a slow sip of his wine, offering no explanation.

Not daring to press her brother further, Melissa shifted her questioning gaze to Vicente.

"Vincent?"

"Nothing."

Vicente downed his drink in one go, his wine-stained lips parting slowly as he spoke in a gentle tone.

"Don’t ask too many questions, kid."

Kid?

Who was he calling a kid?

And since when was she not allowed to ask about her own business?

Melissa’s face twisted with displeasure, but she held back, wary of drawing her older brother’s attention—and another lecture.

Still, her mind raced with plans to grill Vicente later.

Setting his glass down, Vicente turned to Taylor.

"Here to expand the E.U. market?"

Given Camilla’s background, he’d looked into the upcoming charity gala hosted under royal patronage.

Taylor’s arrival at this time was likely no coincidence.

"That’s part of it," Taylor replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he eyed his glass.

"But the main reason..."

His voice was calm, deliberate. "...is for a marriage arrangement."

It wasn’t exactly a secret.

Sooner or later, they’d all find out. Wedding?

What wedding?

Melissa, who had been sitting there obediently, immediately perked up her ears with a puzzled expression.

"Brother, whose wedding are you talking about?

Must be something important for you to come all this way."

Vicente narrowed his eyes slightly, also waiting for Taylor’s explanation.

So Melissa still didn’t know about this.

She probably thought her brother was still single, unaware that he’d suddenly acquired a fiancée.

Camilla observed their reactions with knowing eyes.

Just as Taylor was about to speak— The doorbell rang.

"Ding—"

The doorbell chimed. Vicente glanced at the group.

"That should be the food. Let’s talk while we eat."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

Vicente pressed the control button beside him, and the electric door slid open silently.

A man dressed as the manager stepped in, offering a slight bow to the assembled guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your order is ready."

As he spoke, over a dozen waiters filed in, carrying an array of exquisitely plated American dishes that teased the senses with their vibrant colors and rich aromas.

They arranged each dish meticulously on the table.

"Please enjoy your meal.

Should you need anything, simply press the call button—we’re at your service anytime."

"Mmm," Vicente responded indifferently.

"You may leave."

"Of course," The manager promptly led the staff out in an orderly manner, leaving the space to the group.

Vicente looked at them with a smile.

"Let’s eat. Tell me what you think of the food."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

Sinclair carefully arranged the dishes he knew Camilla liked and placed them before her.

Camilla took a bite, and a spark of delight flickered in her eyes.

"It’s delicious."

Seeing her appetite return, Sinclair’s lips curved into a faint smile as he continued serving her.

These days, nothing worries him more than ensuring Camilla ate well.

"It really is good," Melissa agreed after tasting a bite, nodding sincerely.

"I’d guess the owner behind this place is an authentic American national."

She had merely tossed out the remark casually, but to her surprise, Vicente responded.

"Right—but not entirely."

When someone loves you, they’ll always find a way to answer you.

Upon hearing this, Melissa immediately turned her gaze toward him.

"What do you mean?"

Vicente looked at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"The owner here doesn’t hold American citizenship at the moment, but that’ll change soon."

"How do you know all this?"

Melissa narrowed her beautiful eyes slightly. "We’re just here for a meal.

You didn’t have to dig into the owner’s background, did you?"

Vicente chuckled, shaking his head as he lifted his wine glass.

"No need for digging. I already knew."

Already knew?

Wait—could it be?

Melissa’s eyes locked onto his, her expression instantly sharpening.

A scene from some drama she’d watched flashed through her mind.

"Don’t tell me the owner here is some woman from your past?"

Vicente, who had just taken a sip of wine, choked instantly.

"Ahem... ahem..."

Vincent pressed a fist to his lips, suppressing a low cough.

Taylor looked completely unfazed, his dark eyes regarding Vicente with mild sympathy.

Melissa, however, startled by the sudden coughing fit, immediately pushed her napkin toward him.

"How could you be so careless?"

As she spoke, her gaze lingered on Vicente with undisguised concern, her brows still knitted tightly.

Such an intense reaction—could she have actually hit the mark?

This wasn’t carelessness; he was downright startled.

Women’s imaginations truly know no bounds, Vicente thought wryly to himself as he accepted the napkin and pressed it to his mouth.

The coughing gradually subsided.

"You—"

Melissa had barely opened her mouth when Taylor smoothly interjected.

His voice was calm and composed as he regarded Vicente.

"Is this restaurant one of your ventures?"

"Mm," Vicente responded indifferently, shooting Melissa an accusatory glance.

So these were Vincent’s businesses?

No wonder she claimed to know the boss inside out.

It wasn’t until her brother pointed it out that Melissa finally caught on.

She immediately narrowed her eyes and flashed Vicente an apologetic grin.

"My bad, my bad. I misunderstood."

Owning up to her mistakes was one of her virtues.

Not that she’d actually change.

Ignoring her brother, Melissa turned his attention back to Vicente.

"I’ve seen them in other countries too.

Are they a chain?"