Chapter 301

Dominic Blackwood's office, T Corporation.

"Mr. Blackwood, I must decline representing Ms. Sinclair in her divorce case." Victor Langley stood stiffly before Dominic's desk, guilt twisting his expression.

He owed his current reputation to Dominic, yet here he was, refusing a direct request.

Victor stole a glance at his employer.

Dominic lounged in his chair, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing him in golden sunlight. Smoke curled from his cigarette, his furrowed brows the only sign of displeasure.

"Reason?" Dominic tapped his cigarette, voice flat.

"Serena Delacroix is back." Victor's fist clenched. "I owe her too much. She... lost her womb because of me. I never realized the damage I caused. She's never asked for anything—until now."

"Serena is representing Maxwell Lockwood?" Dominic cut straight to the point.

"Yes." Victor's jaw tightened.

Dominic knew their history.

Serena was brilliant but ruthless, a lawyer who thrived on loopholes. She took any case if the price was right, regardless of morality. Her reputation was as controversial as it was formidable.

Victor continued, "I've already contacted Alistair Thornton from Viva Law Firm. He specializes in international cases and has agreed to take over Ms. Sinclair's divorce. Here's his file."

He slid a folder across the desk.

Dominic didn't open it immediately. His silence stretched, heavy with contemplation.

"Fine. Thornton handles it."

Victor exhaled in relief—until Dominic spoke again.

"Close this chapter with Serena. You're indulging her now, but the world won't. She won't always find someone willing to bend for her."

Victor paused at the door, sighed, and left without another word.

Lillian Prescott was mid-dinner with her parents when the detective called.

She glanced nervously at Jonathan and Genevieve, engrossed in conversation, then slipped onto the balcony.

Genevieve handed Jonathan a chicken wing, watching her daughter with amusement. "Our girl has secrets now. Must be that crush of hers calling."

"Lillian's not a child anymore," Jonathan grumbled. "She should settle down, leave that frivolous industry. A woman's place is at home."

He was old-fashioned, blunt in his views. He'd pursued Genevieve without pretense, and their whirlwind romance had led to a swift marriage.

Genevieve, elegant and sharp, had once dreamed of stardom herself. But she didn't argue. "That young man—Dominic Blackwood. Handsome in magazines, but how is he in person?"

Jonathan brightened. "Just as striking as our Lillian. Only issue? He's got two five-year-olds."

"That's no obstacle. Lillian adores children. If she struggles, we'll take them. I'd love to."

Genevieve's voice softened. A traumatic birth had left her infertile—a wound that never fully healed.

Lillian returned, hurriedly grabbing her coat. "Work emergency. Don't wait up."

Jonathan frowned. "It's late. Who are you meeting?"

He was strict. Work was one thing, but nighttime outings? Unacceptable.

Lillian forced patience. "My agent. There's an issue with the script. I'll be back in an hour."

Jonathan's frown deepened. He despised the entertainment world, considering it beneath their status. But Genevieve had supported Lillian's career, leaving him outvoted.

Genevieve stopped her, wrapping a scarf around her neck. "Come home soon, darling."