When the Wind is Sweet: The Fairy Tale of Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster-Chapter 624: Grandfather’s Warning
In the Lockwood Old Manor, on a reunion night, the servants were happier than their masters.
Because everyone received red envelopes and New Year gifts, and their salaries were paid in advance, they experienced a joy only they could understand, a joy that allowed them to give their families a better life.
After her son and daughter-in-law left, Eliza Hayes returned to the back courtyard, her mood not very good. Melanie Lancaster and Brandon Lancaster were staying here overnight, and she found them both annoying and didn’t want much to do with them.
"Madam." Nanny Warren entered and quietly closed the door.
"How many more days are they staying here?" Eliza Hayes looked out the window, not turning back as she asked coldly.
"Miss Lancaster bought tickets for the fifth, and Brandon Lancaster is leaving with her." Nanny Warren informed her, "I just heard from the butler, don’t know if the news is accurate."
The fifth...
Which meant these two women would be staying in Argent for four more days.
As a mother, Eliza Hayes was particularly worried about Faye’s safety. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮
Because she recently heard a bit of gossip, repeated from Drake and Tiger: the lady was nearly kidnapped.
She took a deep breath, not understanding why Adrian Lancaster was so tolerant.
Or... was he just pretending to be tolerant?
Eliza Hayes couldn’t be sure if it was Brandon Lancaster’s doing, but she wanted to eliminate any factors that might harm Faye, ensuring the child’s safe arrival.
Nanny Warren stood beside her, looking where she was looking, at the main villa opposite, where the old man’s study was still lit.
And it was already past 11 p.m.
The servant and mistress recalled the atmosphere in the dining room tonight, and they could roughly guess what the scene was like in the study now.
Grandfather’s study was not modernized, with rows of old-fashioned bookshelves filled with ancient books, and some calligraphy and paintings by friends hung on the walls.
The lights were warm yellow, not glaringly bright.
The atmosphere was solemn amid the chill.
Brandon Lancaster stood in front of the desk, at the spot where he’d knelt two days ago, the scene still ringing in his ears.
Grandfather stood with hands behind his back, brows furrowed as he looked out at the night.
"Brandon, I don’t ask much of you, just hope you can earnestly perform your duties," the old man said with iron-like disappointment, "If you’re capable, getting you a branch to manage could be possible."
But how could Brandon Lancaster settle for a small branch?
His goal was the Prestige Group Headquarters.
Yet, having just been berated by his grandfather, he hung his head and didn’t dare to say anything in rebuttal.
The old man saw him silent and unresponsive, turned to glare at him, eyes growing colder, "But if you want to take over Prestige, let me be clear, as long as I’m alive, you’ll suppress that thought every single day!"
His grandfather’s sternness and warning frightened the plotting Brandon Lancaster.
He offered no defense for himself; clearly, his grandfather had seen through him and must have some evidence.
Each minute, each second in the study was pure torture.
He just hoped his grandfather would order him to leave for some air.
In the adjacent bedroom, Melanie Lancaster had checked her phone fourteen times already; her son had been called into the study for two hours without coming out yet...
Rather than worrying about her son getting scolded, she was more concerned about being implicated.
Because of her son’s intelligence, indeed... even Melanie Lancaster, as his mother, couldn’t help but criticize a bit.
And he was nowhere near as composed as Adrian Lancaster.
From behind, the door creaked open, and Melanie Lancaster withdrew her thoughts, turning toward the doorway, where her son appeared with a distressed expression.
After Brandon Lancaster entered, he casually shut the door.
"What did your grandfather say to you?" Melanie Lancaster fixed her gaze on him, asking directly.
