She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 293

Cyrilla’s lips began to tremble uncontrollably. The delicately necklace suddenly felt searing hot, like a brand against her skin. She stumbled back, her fingers clutching the chain so tightly the metal edges dug into her palm, but the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of Loyce's words.

She struggled to compose herself. “Even if that’s true, the Shapiro family owes my family an immense debt of gratitude. Zeke promised me that I would be Lucian’s wife, his only wife! You don’t stand a chance!”

Loyce just nodded, her expression placid. “Oh. Well, congratulations in advance, then.”

Her calmness was so infuriating that Cyrilla wanted to reach out and strangle her.

Just then, the bedroom door opened. Lucian entered, holding a candlestick. The warm, flickering light tore through the darkness, illuminating the tense, confrontational atmosphere.

His tall frame filled the doorway, and he immediately noticed the extra person in the room. His hawk-like gaze swept over the scene.

The candlelight cast deep shadows on his chiseled features, freezing the last traces of softness that had lingered from his concern for Loyce.

When his eyes landed on Cyrilla—disheveled and tear-streaked on the floor, clad in a nearly transparent lace nightgown—his gaze instantly turned glacial.

“Cyrilla,” Lucian’s voice was low but carried a heavy, oppressive weight, each word dropping like a stone in the silent room. “Who gave you permission to enter my private bedroom?”

The sudden, cold question made Cyrilla flinch. She tried to scramble to her feet but froze under his icy stare. She had never seen him look at her like this before. His eyes held no warmth, only judgment and unquestionable authority.

“Lu… Lucian…” Cyrilla’s voice was thick with tears and a profound sense of grievance as she tried to appeal to his pity. “I… I was scared of the thunder… I thought you were here… I came looking for you…”

She deliberately angled her body to make the already open neckline dip lower, revealing more skin as she gazed at him with watery eyes.

Lucian’s expression didn’t waver; if anything, it grew colder. He walked steadily into the room with the soup, completely ignoring Cyrilla on the floor, and went straight to the bed. He carefully placed the candlestick on the nightstand to illuminate Loyce, then handed her the bowl.

“Drink this. It’ll help with the headache.”

Loyce smelled the sweet aroma of brown sugar and took the bowl, sipping it slowly.

Only after doing all this did Lucian turn around and look down at Cyrilla. The candlelight flickered behind him, stretching his tall silhouette into that of a merciless guardian.

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