Chapter 2192

Yannick’s lips curved into a smile. “No chance. Let me hold you a little longer.”

He wanted every passerby to see it clearly—the woman in his arms belonged to him.

A few steps behind them, Nicholas watched the sudden, deliberate affection that had replaced their earlier civility.

In that moment, he understood. He had lost.

First Cecilia. Now Jocelyn.

His dark eyes iced over. Why do they always drift away in the end?

He stepped outside, slid into his car, and shut the door with quiet finality.

Leaning back against the leather seat, his shoulders caved as though the weight of the past week had finally caught up with him. Dark crescents clung beneath his eyes, and each slow breath carried an exhaustion he no longer tried to conceal.

After what felt like an endless stretch of silence, he straightened, took the keys, and let the engine pull him through sleeping streets toward Rainsworth Manor. The headlights cut through the mist as unresolved thoughts rattled louder than the tires.

The old estate welcomed him with a chorus—small feet pounding across marble floors, shrill laughter bouncing beneath chandeliers. It was the bright chaos only children could create, filling the ancient halls with a warmth the walls had nearly forgotten.

Nicholas had barely crossed the threshold when a blindfolded child burst from behind a velvet curtain, arms flailing, and crashed straight into his legs.

“Ha! I got you!” Elliot ripped off the blindfold, triumph lighting his face—until he realized the tall figure he’d caught wasn’t another child, but his uncle.

The grin froze, like paint drying too fast.

Before Elliot could retreat, Nicholas lifted him effortlessly, almost gently, the way one might scoop up a startled bird. “So, hide-and-seek?” he asked lightly. “Is it fun?”

The tone was warm, polite—yet something unreadable pulsed beneath it.

To Elliot, that gentleness felt unsettling. A shiver ran down his spine.

He didn’t know why. He only knew Uncle Nicholas felt… strange.

“Uncle Nicholas, can you put me down? I want to play with them.” He pointed toward his friends.

Nicholas paused at the word uncle, then set him back on the floor. “Go on. Play hard. Days like this don’t come often,” he added, his voice too soft to be casual.

The words landed like a secret hidden inside something ordinary.

Elliot shivered again.

But children forget easily. Soon, the moment slipped from his mind, never to be mentioned again.

Dinner felt like a photograph from years past—Nicholas seated at the long table, silverware gleaming beneath chandeliers, the entire family gathered as though nothing had ever fractured.

Elena watched him eat, noticing the color returning to his face, and felt relieved.

Across from her, Wren felt the same.

“Eat more,” Wren urged. “You’re still recovering. You need strength.”

Elena chimed in brightly, “Nicholas, once you’re better, I’ll introduce you to some lovely women. Start a family. Give life purpose—no room for dark thoughts.”

Nicholas set his fork down with deliberate care. “Dad, Mom, living alone suits me for now. I’m not ready to start a family.”

He let the pause linger, then allowed his gaze to drift—unhurried, almost idle—toward Cecilia and Nathaniel at the far end of the table.

“Tell me, Cecilia,” he asked calmly, “does marriage truly make life better?”

Cecilia’s fork froze midair.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice steady, though something tight edged it. She nodded—the safest answer.

“You’re sure?” Nicholas pressed, his tone smooth yet faintly unsettling.

The question caught on something Cecilia couldn’t name. She nodded again.

Elena smiled, oblivious. “Isn’t it obvious? Look at them—so in love. Four wonderful children, this house full of life.”

At that moment, three of those four children were racing around the room while the nanny chased them in helpless circles. Only Jonathan sat perfectly still, quietly finishing his vegetables.

The contrast between adult composure and childish chaos couldn’t have been sharper.

Nicholas watched the scene, then murmured almost to himself, “It’s lively. But I prefer silence.”

Nathaniel finally broke the tension, his voice calm and firm. “Everyone chooses their own path, Mom. If Nicholas doesn’t want to marry, let him breathe without pressure.”

Elena opened her mouth, then closed it again. Thinking of Chelsea’s mother, she decided she wouldn’t become the same.

Night settled over Rainsworth Manor like velvet, softening the day’s frictions into crickets and distant city noise.

Cecilia lay curled against Nathaniel, the quilt rising and falling with their shared breath. “Nathaniel… something about Nicholas felt off today. I can’t explain it.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, her hair brushing his chest. “Just a feeling. Nothing concrete.”

He traced slow circles between her shoulder blades. “Then don’t let it trouble you. Rest. I’m here.”