Chapter 347: Paying Respects to Grandfather

Chapter 347: Chapter 347: Paying Respects to Grandfather

As an established old-money family, the Yeats family quickly took root in Crestfall and engaged in numerous collaborative ventures.

Estelle Lockwood’s return to the Yeats family provided the public with plenty of gossip. Some speculated that since Claire Yeats had grown up in the Yeats family, Old Mr. Yeats would undoubtedly dote on her more after all these years. Not to mention, Evan Yeats was still in the picture.

Others argued that Old Mr. Yeats was entirely different from the Lockwood family. He had spent years searching for Estelle and her mother; now that he had finally found her, there was no way he would let her suffer any grievances.

Amidst the chatter, Mrs. Yeats’s actions piqued a great deal of curiosity. For Estelle’s sake, she hadn’t even spared her own son’s pride, publicly declaring that if Evan didn’t apologize, his art exhibition would be canceled. It seemed Mrs. Yeats truly cherished Estelle.

However, the person at the very center of this storm, Estelle herself, made no public appearances. Instead, she was quietly spending her time at a cemetery.

At the cemetery.

After her grandfather passed away, Estelle had laid him to rest here.

While he was alive, Chase Lockwood had never told Estelle that he was her biological grandfather. Perhaps he had been afraid of breaking her heart. It was only on his deathbed, out of options and terrified that no one would care for the still-underage Estelle, that he made a desperate gamble and entrusted her to the Lockwood family.

He likely never imagined that Old Mr. Lockwood would extend his personal hatred for him onto Estelle, nor did he foresee just how vicious and ruthless Austin Lockwood and Rose Lowell could be. Had he known, one could only wonder if Chase would have regretted his choice.

When Chase passed away, Estelle was just months shy of turning eighteen. Penniless, she could only afford to bury him in the cheapest corner of this cemetery. During the five years she had been away from Andertown, she assumed his grave would have become overgrown and abandoned. She never expected that Nathaniel Sloan would visit to pay his respects every single year.

Right now, that very man was standing quietly behind her.

Estelle didn’t bother asking how Nathaniel knew the anniversary of her grandfather’s death. It was the sort of information he could easily uncover with a quick background check. When she left five years ago, she had worried that her grandfather would be lonely in the afterlife. She had even asked Henry Kendrick to sweep the tomb whenever he returned to the country. The only thing she hadn’t anticipated was Nathaniel taking it to heart.

But now that she understood Nathaniel’s true feelings for her, it all made perfect sense.

Nathaniel was evidently far more familiar with this cemetery than Estelle was. He skillfully lit the incense, paid his respects, and swept the tombstone. When the cemetery’s groundskeeper saw Nathaniel, he only looked surprised for a fleeting moment before waving them through—a clear sign that he recognized the man.

"When Grandpa passed away, I didn’t have a dime to my name," Estelle said softly. "I had to bury him in a hurry. I only got this plot because someone else didn’t want it and sold it to me on the cheap.

"Later, I wanted to move his grave to a better location, but I was forced to leave before I could save up enough money." She trailed off, lost in a distant memory.

Nathaniel felt a sharp, rhythmic ache in his chest.

"But after coming back this time, I had someone look into it," she continued. "It turns out the Feng Shui here is actually quite good. It’s surrounded by lush trees. Grandpa would like it."

Nathaniel gently leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "Yes. That’s why he’s been watching over us from heaven all this time."

Estelle shot him a sideways glance. "It’s enough for him to watch over me. Why would he watch over you?"

Nathaniel let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

After paying their respects to Grandpa Lockwood, Estelle headed to the home she and her grandfather used to share. The small apartment had been purchased by him and transferred to her name before he passed away. It was a tiny place—barely four hundred square feet—tucked away in an aging residential complex where the exterior walls were completely swallowed by creeping ivy.

As Estelle and Nathaniel walked through the neighborhood, they drew frequent stares from the locals. The reason was simple: the two of them looked incredibly out of place in such a run-down area.

Estelle headed upstairs, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

It was Nathaniel’s first time seeing where Estelle used to live. The apartment was ordinary and dated, yet it carried a faint, undeniable sense of warmth. Ever since he took the helm of the Sloan family, Nathaniel had exclusively frequented sprawling villas and luxury hotels. It had been many years since he had set foot in a place like this.

Estelle hadn’t been back in years, and a thick layer of dust blanketed the rooms. She made her way into her grandfather’s bedroom and pulled out a large cardboard box.

Nathaniel shadowed her closely. "Are these Grandpa’s belongings?"

Wherever Estelle walked, Nathaniel followed, acting like an oversized human pet.

"Tsk, you’re so clingy," Estelle said, wrinkling her nose in feigned annoyance. "They’re Grandpa’s belongings. Mostly photos. Do you want to take a look?"

Nathaniel raised a brow. "I rarely hear you talk about your past with your grandfather. How did the two of you get by back then? And what about your father?"

Before he was sent to prison, Old Mr. Lockwood had admitted that Estelle was Chase’s biological granddaughter. This meant her father had to be Grandpa Lockwood’s son, Silas Lockwood. There was no question about that.

According to Austin, his cousin had been stunningly brilliant—an exceptionally gifted artist and a veritable genius in scientific research. That brilliance was exactly why Old Mr. Lockwood had been so violently jealous of Grandpa Lockwood, and why Austin had despised Silas. Perhaps it was that very jealousy that made the father-son duo so heartless toward Estelle. It was why they had turned a blind eye to the abuse inflicted upon her by Noelle Lockwood and Rose Lowell, even going so far as to condone attempted murder.

Logically speaking, since Estelle’s father was an all-around genius who achieved fame at a young age, he should have left a significant mark on the world. Instead, the man seemed to have vanished into thin air.

The Lockwood family had once been a respectable, affluent household. Their decline only began when Old Mr. Lockwood took over. Prior to that, Chase had been the Family Head. So when Chase’s son was born—and proved to be a prodigy—how could he not have attracted massive attention?

Yet, public records and news regarding both Chase and Silas were practically non-existent. It was as if someone had deliberately erased them from history. Even now, Estelle still had no idea how her grandfather—the legitimate Family Head—had fallen prey to Old Mr. Lockwood’s scheming and ended up so utterly destitute. Moreover, during all those years they had spent relying solely on each other, he had never once mentioned Silas.

She wondered why that was.

Estelle lowered her gaze to the belongings in the box. She picked up a thick stack of photos. "Grandpa left these for me. He told me that every single one of these pictures is related to my father. But strangely enough, none of them actually show him."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow and peered closer, surprised to find that the photographs were entirely of paintings. At a rough glance, there had to be around two hundred of them.

In addition to the paintings, there were pictures of a desk, a bedroom, textbooks, bookcases, a basketball jersey, a lab coat, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

Chase had clearly been a devoted father who documented every stage of his child’s growth. The photos told the story of a young boy who loved reading and playing basketball, slowly growing into a young man. They showed his developing passion for art and his incredible talent for painting. Later on, he had likely become a scientific researcher, as evidenced by the numerous photos of white coats, chemical reagents, and laboratories.

But not a single photograph contained a face.

Yet, how could a father document all these inanimate objects without ever snapping a picture of his actual son? The only logical explanation was that Chase had systematically destroyed every photo containing his son’s face, leaving only these faceless fragments behind.

But why would he do such a thing? Nathaniel couldn’t figure it out.

Estelle didn’t know the answer either. Her grandfather had never brought it up. In fact, he had rarely spoken about her father at all. She only knew the name "Silas Lockwood" because she had stumbled upon it entirely by accident.