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    Chapter 149 A Ploy of Self–Pity?

    74

    +20 Free Coins

    Lucas knew exactly how he felt about Sloane. What began as sympathy had quietly grown into admiration… and now, an all–consuming pull he could no longer ignore.

    Tonight, he’de to be sure of one thing–his own heart.

    Now that he understood what he truly wanted, he would stop at nothing to have it.

    Sloane woke up to the aroma of warm food.

    Rubbing her sleepy eyes, she stepped out of her room–only to see Lucas in the kitchen, wearing an apron, focused on cooking.

    The gentle tter of pots and pans echoed softly in the quiet morning, creating an unexpectedly cozy scene.

    “… You’re making breakfast?” Sloane asked, her voice still tinged with the soft, fuzzy texture of sleep.

    Lucas turned around with a warm smile. “You’re up. Since you let me stay overst night, I figured breakfast was the least I could do.”

    At the dining table, a blue–and–white porcin bowl of steaming hot seafood congee awaited.

    Sloane sat down and took a spoonful. The tender rice, sulent seafood, and rich, savory broth danced across her tongue in perfect harmony.

    Her eyes lit up with surprise. “I didn’t know you could cook! This is incredible—the vor’s just right!”

    Lucas took the seat across from her, quietly hiding the tenderness in his eyes. He’d long since noticed her love of seafood.

    And watching her eat contentedly now made his heart feel full.

    Sloane could do anything–but cooking wasn’t on the list. Usually, she relied on takeout or school cafeteria meals. The kitchen utensils she owned had never even been used until today.

    “You’re the great Mr. Hawthorne, and you can cook?” she teased casually,

    Lucas’s fingers subtly tightened around his spoon. A flicker of shadow passed through his eyes, but his smile returned quickly.

    b8:09 /bThu, bSep /bb4 /bN

    Chapter 149 A Ploy of Self–Pity?

    b74 /b

    +20 Free Coins

    Looking down, he traced the rim of his bowl with his fingertip, as if carefully considering how

    much to reveal.

    “No one took care of me when I was little. I had to learn on my own. Starving wasn’t an option.” His voice was quiet–almost too light to carry the weight of what he was saying. “At first it was awful–too much salt, burnt stuff–but over time, you get the hang of it.”

    Sloane’s brow furrowed as she listened. A tight ache formed in her chest.

    “But aren’t you the heir of the Hawthorne family?” she asked, her voice low, confused–and pained.

    Lucas let out a dryugh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, the Hawthorne heir. But what does that even mean? That family might look morous on the outside, but on the inside… it’s a mess.”

    He didn’t go on.

    Sloane didn’t press him. She didn’t want to reopen old wounds.

    Instead, she thought of Mason–the adopted son of the Hawthorne family. Rumor had it that Madam Aubrey treated him like her own. The thought made her heart sink.

    So both of them were born into families that cast them aside.

    He, ignored in the powerful Hawthorne family. She, erased in the Rivers family, while they doted on Samantha–the adopted daughter.

    Lowering her head, Sloane absentmindedly traced the edge of her bowl. Her voice was so quiet it was barely audible. “Lucas… I understand how you feel.”

    Lucas looked up, startled by the sorrow on her face.

    She met his gaze, eyes tinged with bitter resignation. “I guess we really are the same. You were nothing to the Hawthornes… and the Rivers? They wanted me dead.”

    Lucas’s heart clenched. His hand tightened around his fork. For a moment, he questioned whether this emotional connection between them… was real or a cruel twist of fate.

    “But it’s fine,” Sloane said, the somber air suddenly swept away by a sh of sharp resilience. “The ones they cared least about turned out to be the strongest of all.”

    And just like that, the bitterness faded. What remained… was strength. And defiance.