Chapter 73

At the Blackwood Estate.

The dining table was laden with an extravagant spread of traditional breakfast dishes.

Reginald Blackwood hadn't slept properly in days. The slightest noise would jolt him awake at night. His grandson Dominic seemed determined to make a spectacle of his late-night returns.

Every time Dominic's sports car roared into the garage after midnight, the entire manor would shake with the engine's growl.

It was impossible for the old man to ignore how Dominic practically floated through the halls with restless energy, bringing the scent of night air with him.

But that was precisely the problem. The workaholic CEO who used to live at the office had suddenly stopped working late. And he wasn't at home either. "So where does he disappear to every evening?"

"Last night he came home even later than usual!"

Reginald discreetly pulled his great-grandson aside for information. The honest child delivered troubling news.

"Great-grandpa, Daddy keeps tossing all night when he's home. Uncle Julian says it's bachelor's insomnia - some male hormonal condition. I don't really understand, but if Daddy keeps losing sleep like this, he won't stay healthy..." The boy scratched his head, genuinely concerned about his father's wellbeing.

Reginald patted the child's shoulder. "Your father's health is robust. That's not what worries me. What concerns me is..."

He didn't elaborate further to the child.

Fixing Dominic with a stern look over breakfast, Reginald demanded, "Is it true you didn't come home until dawn last night?" Dominic reluctantly sipped his fresh soy milk before setting down the bowl with finality.

An attendant immediately presented his pressed suit jacket.

After shrugging into it, Dominic announced, "I'm leaving for the office. Enjoy your meal."

The old man's grip tightened on his cane. 'This grandson of mine has lived like a monk for years - only ever at home or the office. Suddenly he's acting like some reckless playboy!'

He was tempted to drug Dominic and have him examined by a physician to confirm everything still functioned properly.

Julian had been attempting to tail his brother for days. But Dominic always shook him off within blocks, leaving Julian to return home empty-handed.

If Dominic was seeing someone respectable, why not bring her home? Why all this secrecy?

Finally catching Dominic at breakfast, Reginald had hoped for answers. Instead, his eldest grandson walked out without explanation.

The more Reginald thought about it, the more suspicious he became.

'Is the girl's background so unacceptable he can't introduce her? Or is Dominic just playing games with some poor woman's heart? That's not how a Blackwood behaves!'

"Hurry up and finish eating," Reginald barked at Julian. "Then take me to the office. I need to speak with your brother."

Julian nearly choked on his congee. 'Why do I always get caught in the crossfire?'

The twins exchanged nervous glances, greasy fingers clutching fried dough sticks. They dared not reveal Daddy's possible interest in Aunt Evelyn.

Margaret Lockwood couldn't resist commenting, "Father, need I remind you how your son behaved when he was alive? Dominic is Edmund's flesh and blood. The apple never falls far. Coming home at all hours reeks of keeping company with... certain types of women."

"Mother," Julian interjected sharply, "some thoughts are better left unspoken."

An uncomfortable silence fell.

Beatrice Lockwood set down her bowl. "I've finished. Excuse me."

The children puzzled over "certain types of women." Did that mean she was especially beautiful?

But the adults understood perfectly.

Edmund Blackwood had been notorious for his affairs. After marrying Margaret, his philandering only worsened.

He'd told Margaret to content herself with being the lady of the house and ignore his extracurricular activities.

After two childless years of marriage - during which she barely saw her husband - Margaret had snapped. She'd orchestrated a trap to expose his infidelity once and for all.

That night, she'd caught Edmund in bed with the very woman now sitting at their breakfast table - Beatrice Lockwood.

Beatrice came from humble beginnings. Back then, her family barely scraped by. But she'd climbed the Blackwood ladder, pulling her relatives up with her.

Margaret remembered Beatrice's childhood friend Genevieve Prescott, who'd married into a powerful military family. Beatrice had clung to that connection, leaving her first husband to hunt bigger game.

Thus the scheming club hostess - playing the innocent victim - had manipulated Edmund into abandoning his wife. All because she'd given him the son he craved.

Margaret knew a man like Edmund didn't love women - he loved heirs. The mother of his precious son was rewarded with luxury.

Though Margaret had fought and wept, she'd ultimately surrendered. Who had legitimized Beatrice's bastard? After bringing that boy home, the failing Blackwood Enterprises had been reborn as T Corporation - Dominic Blackwood's empire.

Perhaps this was heaven's punishment for Margaret's loyalty...

Sometimes she wondered - if she'd succeeded in killing Dominic years ago, how different might her life be?

Reginald went straight to the point when he stormed into Dominic's office. Brandishing his cane, he thundered, "The Blackwoods don't tolerate degenerates! You know what your father was! I won't let history repeat itself!"

"Grandfather," Dominic calmly pushed aside the threatening cane, "what exactly am I being accused of?"

Reginald's bushy eyebrows shot up. "You dare ask? You've been slinking home at dawn for weeks!"

Julian helpfully clarified. "Grandfather thinks you're seeing... professional companionship."

Dominic, now suspected of nightly escort services, stared blankly.

"If you're not doing anything shameful," Reginald pressed, "why haven't you brought this woman home?"