Chapter 897

Rosalind froze mid-step, her body tensing with sudden discomfort. She'd been actively trying to avoid Lucian - yet somehow ended up colliding with him anyway.

His striking features loomed above her, triggering a flood of memories from last night. The way he'd pinned her down, claiming her lips... while whispering another woman's name.

"Genevieve."

Rosalind shoved against Lucian's chest, stumbling back two paces. Heat flooded her cheeks as she stammered, "M-my apologies."

Lucian's smirk deepened as he took in her flustered state. "Relax," he drawled, amusement lacing his tone. "It's just a little bump. Why so jumpy?"

The realization hit her like ice water. They were over. While she remained emotionally tangled, he'd clearly moved on without a second thought.

Pathetic. She needed to match his detached composure. Besides, with Lillian around, complete avoidance wasn't an option.

Drawing a steadying breath, Rosalind straightened. "My mistake."

Lucian grabbed a porcelain bowl, his movements deliberate. "Let's eat."

Lillian tugged Rosalind toward the table. "Come sit, Rosalind! The food's getting cold."

Rosalind nodded stiffly. "Of course."

Lucian pressed a hand to Lillian's forehead. "Still running a slight fever," he murmured. "I'll be by tomorrow to check on you."

Lillian beamed. "Perfect!"

Seeing Lucian had everything handled, Rosalind seized her chance. "Since your brother's here, I should probably head home."

Being near Lucian felt like walking through a minefield. Every second stretched unbearably.

Lillian's smile faltered. "Leaving already? Are things that hectic?"

Rosalind forced a light tone. "I'd just be in the way. Besides, Julian secured me a spot in that intensive seminar at Westfield. Starts soon."

Before Lillian could respond, Lucian cut in sharply, "If Rosalind wants to go, let her."

Love life? What nonsense was this?

Rosalind's gaze snapped to Lucian. "It's not that I want to leave—"

"But you are leaving, aren't you?"

"I—"

Words failed her.

Lucian's smile turned razor-sharp. "By all means, go. I've got Lillian. Though I suspect your mind's already with Professor Ashford anyway."

Irritation prickled along Rosalind's spine.

Lillian blinked between them. "Who's Julian?"

Rosalind opened her mouth—

"Westfield's golden boy," Lucian interjected smoothly. "Prestigious family, Ivy League pedigree, devastatingly handsome—exactly Rosalind's type."

Rosalind gaped. Since when had Lucian become so petty?

Lillian clapped excitedly. "He sounds wonderful! Rosalind, you should—"

A sudden glare from Lucian silenced her. Undeterred, Lillian glared right back. If her brother wanted to play games, she'd play too.

The tension thickened like fog.

Rosalind couldn't let this escalate. "Actually," she said quickly, "the seminar can wait. I'll stay until you're fully recovered."

The words tasted like surrender. But anything was better than this battlefield.