Chapter 60

Elena quickly took a couple of sips of her cold hojicha.

Richard watched her reaction, the amusement in his eyes deepening.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs as he asked casually, “What about you? How was school today?”

Elena sighed. “Pretty good, except for one little incident. Remember that girl from the Whitmore family I messaged you about before? The one who's friends with your daughter?”

Richard looked at her calmly. “What happened?”

“…I threw juice in her face. And I may have said some pretty nasty things.” Her voice dropped a little. “But she started it.”

Richard said nothing.

“Anyway, I managed to piss her off again, so there's a decent chance she's already thinking about hiring someone to put a bag over my head and beat me to death.”

As she spoke, Elena kept an eye on Richard's expression.

She knew he didn't think much of the Whitmores, but Charlotte was still Victoria's friend, so Elena felt she should at least mention it.

From what she'd seen over the past few weeks, Richard didn't seem like the kind of father who spoiled his daughter. But Elena had no idea what their relationship was like in private. She didn't know how much of the Sterling family's wealth Richard had already given Victoria, or how much influence Victoria actually had with him.

She couldn't simply assume.

Still, Elena had the vague feeling there was quite a bit of distance between father and daughter.

“It's fine.”

Richard's expression didn't change.

“You won't need to worry about Charlotte anymore.”

Elena froze for a second.

She studied his handsome, unreadable face, and an absurd thought suddenly popped into her head.

Leaning forward, she lowered her voice.

“Why? Did you have her assassinated?”

Richard stared at her.

“…Is assassination the answer to everything in your head? Either someone's trying to assassinate you, or you're imagining me assassinating them?”

Elena cleared her throat.

“I was joking.”

You do kind of have the vibe, though.

She wisely kept that part to herself.

Richard gave her another look.

Feeling increasingly guilty, Elena lowered her head and quickly took another bite of wagyu.

“I ran into Mr. Whitmore at the art gathering,” Richard said eventually. “I made a comment about his daughter's character.”

Elena immediately looked up.

“Huh?”

“Those weren't my exact words.”

The corner of Richard's mouth lifted slightly.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

“But Whitmore likes to present himself as easygoing and reasonable. Underneath that, he's calculating and very conscious of power and status. Men like him know exactly where to hit when they want to hurt someone.”

Alfred quietly cleared away the last of the dinner plates and left the room.

Richard picked up his tea and took a sip.

“To make his position clear—and because he'll be furious—he'll punish her in the way that hurts her most.”

He glanced across the table at Elena.

“So, if we're being serious, Charlotte might actually prefer your assassination theory to whatever she's dealing with right now.”

Elena considered that for a moment, then slowly nodded.

She couldn't imagine exactly what Mr. Whitmore would do, but he knew his daughter better than anyone. He would know exactly what would hurt Charlotte most.

Whatever it was, Elena had a feeling it would be a lot worse than simply giving her a beating.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

With Alfred gone, the large dining room fell quiet.

Warm golden light spilled from the crystal chandelier high above them, stretching their shadows across the polished marble floor until they seemed to overlap.

Elena watched Richard as he drank his tea.

Whatever her original reasons for getting close to him had been—self-interest, survival, or something else entirely—she really was grateful to him.

More than she knew how to say.

Elena suddenly stood.

Richard noticed her walking around the table toward him. His teacup paused halfway to his lips, and before he could properly look up, she had already bent down beside him.

Her hands settled naturally on his broad shoulders.

Up close, she caught the familiar scent of his cologne, a cool woody fragrance mixed with faint traces of tobacco and the autumn night.

She lingered there for just a second.

Then she tilted her head and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

Richard went completely still.

“I don't know what's happening at the Whitmores' house right now…”

Elena remained bent over his shoulder, her clear eyes bright with a smile.

“But I'm pretty sure Charlotte is having a miserable night.”

She leaned closer to his ear, her voice softening.

“Thank you.”

Her warm breath brushed lightly against his skin.

“For everything you've done for me.”

Richard slowly turned his head.

The warmth of her kiss still lingered on his cheek.

His dark eyes fixed on her face, suddenly much harder to read.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Richard lifted a hand and caught her chin between his fingers.

But just as he was about to speak, Elena grabbed his wrist and straightened.

“But…”

The softness in her expression disappeared, replaced by a mischievous smile.

“Victoria and Charlotte are classmates. Which means you and Charlotte's father are basically the same generation, right?”

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly.

Elena looked him up and down, deliberately taking her time.

“So why do you keep talking about Mr. Whitmore like he's some old man?”

She tilted her head innocently.

“You're both successful men in the prime of your lives. Pillars of society.”

Richard stared at her.

Elena almost laughed.

She had chosen that wording very carefully.

“Oh! And I just remembered something else.”

Her eyes widened in exaggerated realization.

“The night we first met, some of the people there were students from my university.”

Richard watched her silently.

“They called you Uncle Richard.”

Elena paused, then put on a slightly horrified expression.

“Wait. Should I be calling you that too?”

She bent down again.

This time, her lips stopped close to his ear.

“Uncle Richard…”

She deliberately drew out the words.

“Want to hear it again?”

Before Richard could answer, Elena straightened, made a face at him, and turned to run.

A chair scraped sharply against the marble floor.

She didn't even make it two steps.

A strong arm caught her around the waist and pulled her back.

“Ah—!”

Elena lost her balance.

The room seemed to spin for a second, and by the time she realized what had happened, she had landed squarely on Richard's lap.

One of his arms remained firmly around her waist while the other steadied her back, leaving her with nowhere to go.

Elena instinctively tried to get up.

Richard didn't let her.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

His arms might as well have been made of steel.

Only then did Elena become very aware of just how close they were.

She stopped moving.

“…You're getting bolder.”

Richard's voice was lower than before.

He tilted her chin up, his thumb resting lightly beneath it as he studied the color slowly spreading across her cheeks.

Elena suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that she'd made a serious tactical error.

“What?” she muttered, trying to sound innocent. “I was just asking a question.”

“Were you?”

His arm tightened slightly around her waist.

Elena fell quiet.

Richard leaned a little closer.

“Uncle Richard?”

He repeated the words slowly, almost lazily.

A second ago, Elena had thought the joke was hilarious.

Somehow, it wasn't nearly as funny anymore.

Richard watched her expression change, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“You wanted to tease me.”

His voice dropped another fraction.

“Now you're trying to run?”

Elena blinked.

“…Maybe?”

Richard gave a quiet laugh.

“Too late.”