Marriage with my daughter's father: Darling please be gentle - Chapter 212

Chapter 212: Chapter 212: This is not your decision to make
[ROSEWOOD MANSION]

It had been a day since Richard was moved into the Rosewood Mansion, and ever since, Slyvester had appointed only the best staff to look after him.

Dr. Jason, the physician most familiar with Richard’s medical history, was the first to notice the change in his condition.

The sickly pallor that had long haunted Richard’s face was finally beginning to fade—his complexion slowly returning to a healthier shade now that he was receiving the correct medication.

“Will he be okay now?” Sylvester asked quietly, his voice laced with concern as he stood at the foot of the bed.

Dr. Jason pulled back after examining Richard, making a few mental notes before answering with a nod. “I believe so. But I strongly recommend we continue monitoring him closely.”

Slyvester’s brows furrowed as he stared at the man lying unconscious in the bed, a thin IV line feeding into the back of his hand.

“Don’t forget, Sylvester,” Jason added seriously, “Richard already suffered a stroke because of the incorrect medication. We were lucky to stabilize him in time. It’s best we proceed with caution—one step at a time.”

Sylvester gave a solemn nod of agreement. Moments later, Dr. Jason quietly exited the room, leaving only the faint beeping of the heart monitor behind.

Now alone with Richard, Sylvester felt the weight of guilt and betrayal hanging heavily in the air. The stillness of the room was deafening, save for the rhythmic tick of the antique clock by the window.

He clenched his jaw.

He had failed to notice what was happening right under his nose. He’d trusted too easily—turned a blind eye when he should have questioned more.

Beatrix, blinded by greed, had crossed a line Slyvester never thought she would. She had used her own husband’s failing health as a tool—a means to siphon money, attention, and control. And Sylvester had played right into her hands.

But no more.

Now that the truth had surfaced, he would make things right. He would ensure Richard made a full recovery—and together, they would uncover the truth. The same truth that had been buried beneath the mysterious deaths of Richard’s son and daughter-in-law.

This time, Slyvester vowed, the culprits wouldn’t walk free.

***

[Stanley’s place]

Lilac stepped out of her room, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine and clarity. She needed both this morning.

Her movements were slow, deliberate—as though her body still hadn’t fully recovered from the night before.

She hadn’t come here expecting anything more than a conversation about Alexander, but somehow, things with Stanley had taken an unexpected turn, giving way to heated touches, and before she knew it, they were entangled in something far more intimate than she’d planned.

Now, with a foggy mind and an aching body, she wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty or grateful.

In a strange way, she was relieved they’d been alone. Sean had gone over to Gina’s, and Lily was busy caring for Roger. It had given her rare, uninterrupted time with Stanley—something she hadn’t realized she’d missed until she had it.

As the kettle heated on the stove, Lilac leaned back against the marble counter, arms folded loosely across her chest. The quiet hum of the kitchen offered her a moment of peace, but her mind refused to rest.

It wandered back—back to Alexander.

No matter how much she tried to focus on the warmth of last night, Alexander’s name lingered like smoke. What unsettled her more was the fact that Logan knew him. That revelation had unsettled her more than she let on. There was a history there—one she hadn’t been told.

Her brow creased as she stared blankly at the tile floor, waiting for the kettle to whistle. Questions swirled in her mind like a storm: Who was Alexander really? Why did Logan seem so guarded when she brought him up? And what was it about the name that made her heart clench with dread?

The whistle finally broke through her thoughts, sharp and loud, snapping her back to the present.

She reached for the kettle, but her hands trembled slightly—whether from lack of sleep, lingering tension from the night before, or something deeper, she couldn’t quite tell. Her grip faltered, and in one careless moment, the spout tipped too far forward.

“Ouch!”

Lilac hissed in pain, instinctively recoiling as hot water splashed across the back of her hand. She stumbled backward—right into a solid, unmoving chest.

Strong arms caught her before she could fall.

“Be careful!” Stanley’s voice rang out, laced with panic and concern.

Without waiting for a response, he swiftly scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen. Lilac was too dazed to protest, her injured hand cradled against her chest.

He set her down gently on the plush couch in the living area, then knelt in front of her, inspecting the damage.

“It’s not too deep,” he muttered, relief softening the tight lines around his mouth. “But you still need to cool it before it swells.”

The burn wasn’t serious, just angry red and beginning to sting—but the fragments of fear in Stanley’s eyes made it seem like a war wound.

He disappeared briefly, returning with a bowl of cold water and a clean cloth. Carefully, he took her hand in his and dipped it into the water.

Lilac flinched but didn’t pull away. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the way his lips had devoured hers the night before. That memory alone made her cheeks burn hotter than the kettle ever could.

“Were you shaking before it happened?” he asked, not looking at her, but his thumb brushed her wrist in a subtle gesture of comfort.

She nodded slightly. “I didn’t sleep much.”

He raised his eyes to hers, his voice low. “Because of last night?”

Lilac didn’t answer right away. Her silence said enough.

Stanley exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He glanced down at their hands, still loosely joined, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I’m sorry for overdoing it last night,” he said quietly. “I just couldn’t—”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Lilac interrupted, her voice soft but certain. A faint, playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “In fact… I wanted it.”

Stanley blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. The concern that had shadowed his face lifted instantly as he stared at her, a glint of disbelief flickering in his eyes.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Here I was thinking you’d throw something at me this morning.”

Lilac chuckled, but her wince reminded them both of her injury. She quickly looked away.

“Then what were you busy thinking about that you didn’t see the kettle nearly boiling over?” Stanley asked, his tone light but curious, eyes narrowing playfully.

Her smile faded slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window. “Alexander.”

The name hung heavy between them.

Stanley didn’t react right away. But she noticed the subtle shift—the way his jaw tightened, the warmth in his eyes cooling just a little.

“Did Logan ever tell you that he knows Alexander?” Lilac asked, her voice calm but weighted with quiet certainty.

Stanley’s expression shifted instantly. Her words caught him off guard—his features stiffened, brows knitting together as he tried to process what she was saying.

“No,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “He never mentioned anything about Alexander. Not once.” He leaned forward slightly. “Why do you ask? How do you know?”

Lilac hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek as she gathered her thoughts.

“I overheard him on the phone,” she admitted. “It wasn’t intentional—I walked past the hallway and caught part of his conversation. He mentioned Alexander… and it wasn’t casual. It was tense. Like he was being summoned or expected to answer to him.”

Stanley’s frown deepened, but he remained quiet, letting her continue.

“And the thing is,” Lilac added, her voice tightening, “Gina was also being called to meet someone named Alexander. Sean told me, and… it can’t be a coincidence.”

Stanley leaned back, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His silence now was louder than any reaction.

“Are you sure we can trust him, Stanley?” Lilac asked, her voice low but firm. “That man came out of nowhere to help you. Don’t you find it… a little too convenient?”

There was no venom in her words—just concern, tightly wrapped in suspicion. She had never truly trusted Logan. Something about his presence had always set her on edge. His calm demeanor, his calculated silences… there was something off. Something controlled.

She had kept those thoughts to herself for the sake of Stanley. Logan had been there when he needed someone, and she hadn’t wanted to question it. Not until now.

Stanley looked at her sharply, the question clearly landing with weight. But just as quickly, his gaze dropped. He looked away.

Avoiding.

And that’s when it clicked.

Lilac’s stomach turned slightly. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face, noticing the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched together as if to hold back something unsaid.

“You’re not surprised I asked,” she murmured, the realization dawning. “In fact… you’ve thought the same thing, haven’t you?”

Stanley didn’t answer right away.

“Stanley,” she said more firmly this time, “what aren’t you telling me?”

He let out a slow breath and finally met her gaze. There was a flicker of guilt there. Of conflict.

“You plan on working on this alone, don’t you?” Lilac asked quietly, her voice laced with both accusation and hurt.

Stanley didn’t answer, but the subtle twitch in his jaw said more than words ever could.

Lilac let out a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing as disbelief settled in.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, a scoff escaping her lips. “You didn’t even think to tell me. You were going to risk your life chasing some hidden truth—and keep me in the dark?”

Her voice rose, tinged with a betrayal she hadn’t expected to feel so deeply.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably but still didn’t meet her eyes. That silence stung more than any argument.

“How could you?” Lilac pressed, stepping closer. “After everything… after last night… you still don’t trust me enough to let me in?”

“It’s not about trust,” Stanley finally said, his voice rough. “It’s about keeping you safe.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” she snapped. “You don’t get to shut me out to play hero. Not when this affects both of us.”

Her chest rose and fell, her emotions threatening to spill over.

Stanley realized he had messed things up, but before he could fix it, Lilac stood up and walked back to the room.