She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 42

“What is it, Loyce?” Hank asked when he noticed her zoning out. “What’re you thinking about?”

Loyce blinked back to the present. “Nothing. I just… feel like danger follows you around. You should have more people watching your back.”

Her concern put Hank in an absurdly good mood. He puffed up a little. “Relax. I can handle myself. Honestly, I’m not even intimidated by that guy from the Shapiro family. Not even a little.”

Loyce nodded, but she didn’t buy it. Not with a bounty like that. She’d need to put people on the Castellan Party’s movements and quietly add protection around Hank. She’d finally found family that actually cared about her. She wasn’t about to lose them.

...

That night, the Lonsdales held a welcome-back dinner for Loyce. The table was a full spread—steaks, pasta, seafood, pastries—styled like a magazine shoot.

Gordon pulled Loyce down into a seat beside him, beaming. “See anything you like? If there’s something you want, I’ll have the kitchen make it.”

“I’m not picky,” Loyce said. “I’ll eat whatever.”

She took a spoonful of the sweet soup in front of her. It was good—warm, sweet, comforting.

Across the table, Alicia’s voice snapped out. “Leroy, how many times have I told you not to make noise when you eat? Watch your sister and learn.”

Leroy pouted. “Fine. I get it. I’m not going to eat like some barbarian.” And he flicked his eyes at Loyce—pointed, smug.

Loyce’s spoon had tapped lightly against the bowl. Sybil noticed immediately and straightened like she was back at finishing school. Her posture snapped into place, and she started eating with exaggerated delicacy.

Loyce noticed Sybil’s flawless table manners. She could do that too if she wanted. She just didn’t care. Her time was limited, and she wasn’t wasting it performing etiquette. If she ate at that pace tonight, she’d miss her race.

Beside her, Hank sensed the tension. He grabbed his own bowl and drank straight from it in one long gulp, then slammed it down, empty.

“This is dinner,” he said sharply. “Not a damn audition. There aren’t strangers here. Are we seriously doing this?”

Alicia’s smile stiffened. She couldn’t argue without looking petty. “Hank’s right. I’m used to being strict with my children.”

“So what—if my spoon taps the bowl, I’m uncultured?” Hank shot back. Years of living rough with dangerous men had killed his patience for this kind of performance, and he hated seeing Loyce made self-conscious.

He patted Loyce’s shoulder. “My sister eats however she wants.”

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