Chapter 289

The ear reconstruction surgery, typically requiring weeks of waiting, was fast-tracked when the hospital administrators caught wind that Nathaniel Kingsley might purchase their facility and convert it into a nightclub. By dawn the next day, Seraphina was already being prepped for the operating room.

Nathaniel hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He stood motionless in the sterile hallway, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white.

Where the master went, the shadow followed. His assistant, Lillian, remained at his side, equally restless.

For a decade, this striking woman had been Nathaniel’s silent sentinel—his personal guard, his unwavering shadow.

The tabloids painted him as a notorious playboy, cycling through women like seasonal trends. Yet the one constant in his chaotic life was Lillian. At every high-profile event requiring an escort, she was the one on his arm.

Strangers often mistook them for lovers. "Mr. Kingsley, your girlfriend is stunning! You two make such a perfect pair!"

Nathaniel usually smirked and played along. "Good eye."

But Lillian knew the truth.

Their relationship was transparent—no blurred lines, no hidden desires. She understood him better than anyone. Despite his rakish reputation, Nathaniel was brutally honest with every woman he entertained.

He dated. He never promised forever. And if he ever married? He’d follow his cousin Alexander’s example—but double the number of wives.

Yet his behavior toward Seraphina defied all logic.

"Mr. Kingsley," Lillian murmured, "the surgery will take hours. You should sit."

"I’m fine." His gaze remained locked on the operating room doors.

"It’s a routine procedure. The success rate is nearly flawless. There’s no need for such worry."

"No need?" Nathaniel’s voice cracked like a whip. "What if her hearing deteriorates? What if she suffers complications? What if she ends up deaf before she’s forty?"

His outburst left Lillian’s ears ringing.

"That damned Genevieve!"

Nathaniel slammed his fist into the wall, his eyes burning with fury. "I won’t let this go. Whether Seraphina recovers or not, I’ll make sure Genevieve pays. I’ll snap every rib in her body!"

A chill slithered down Lillian’s spine. Gathering her courage, she ventured, "Mr. Kingsley… may I ask you something?"

"Speak."

"Do you have feelings for Seraphina?"

The question struck him like a physical blow. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

Feelings?

Did he?

He cared for her—deeply. Too deeply to dismiss it as mere protectiveness toward Alexander’s sister.

But Seraphina was Arabella’s daughter.

Every smile, every hesitant glance from her tugged at him. Her innocence awakened something primal in him—a need to shield her from the world. Yet her lineage erected an impenetrable wall between them.

"Lillian," he rasped, leaning against the wall, his bruised knuckles matching the bloodshot hue of his eyes, "I do care for her. But it ends here."

"Because she’s Arabella’s child?" Lillian pressed.

"Yes." The word scraped from his throat.

"But if you truly love her—"

"I can’t." Nathaniel sank onto a bench, gripping his skull as if to crush the memories surfacing. "I’ll never forget the night my father died. The rain. My mother standing alone in it, screaming until her voice gave out. My uncle smirking at the funeral. I won’t let him take Kingsley Group. I won’t let anything—or anyone—derail me."

Lillian knelt before him, her hand trembling as she pressed it to his heaving back.

"I’ll reclaim everything my father lost, Lillian. I can’t afford distractions. I can’t lose."

Meanwhile, Isabella arrived at The Regal Palace to finalize preparations for her sister’s birthday gala.

Back in her office, her phone buzzed. Alexander’s name flashed on the screen.

"President Kingsley," she answered, her tone frosty, as if last night’s warmth had never existed.

"Isabella." His voice was velvet.

"I don’t know a ‘Alexander.’ Only President Kingsley." Her lips curled.

"Has Grandfather called you?"

"Grandfather? No. Why? Is he alright?" Her spine stiffened.

"It’s not him. It’s Seraphina."

"Seraphina?"

"I didn’t return to Windsor Estates last night. Grandfather called, demanding to know why Nathaniel took her. I only just learned there was an incident."

Fatigue and anger laced his words. "I’ve tried calling Nathaniel. His phone’s off."

"That bastard!"

Isabella shot to her feet, her palm smacking the desk. "I knew he was trouble when he whisked her off to that hotel! And you defended him! Claimed he had boundaries! He’s a wolf in Armani!"

"Isabella, Nathaniel and I grew up together. Yes, he’s a womanizer, but he’s not reckless. Seraphina is my sister. He wouldn’t touch her."

"Your sister?" She scoffed. "The only women safe from him are his mother and hypothetical daughter! Pray he hasn’t laid a finger on her. If he has, I’ll break every bone in his hand. And when I make promises, I keep them."

"Fine."

"What?"

"I said, fine. If he’s crossed the line, you take his left hand. I’ll take the right."

Isabella gaped.

Some friendships were disposable.

The surgery concluded successfully. Seraphina, pale as the hospital sheets, lay in recovery.

"How do you feel? Any pain?" Nathaniel’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he studied her doe-like eyes.

She shook her head.

"Can you hear me?"

A blink. A nod.

"Good." Relief loosened his shoulders. He reached for his phone. "I’ll call your siblings—"

Seraphina’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist.

"N-Nathaniel… I’m hungry."

"I figured." His lips twitched. "Lillian’s fetching food. She’ll be back soon."

As if summoned, the door opened. Lillian entered, balancing a tray of steaming dishes.

"Mr. Kingsley, as requested—light, easily digestible."

"Give it here."

Nathaniel took the bowl, blew on a spoonful of porridge, and held it to Seraphina’s lips.

"Open up, sweetheart."

Lillian’s eyebrows vanished into her hairline.

Affection, it seemed, was impossible to hide.

"I can feed myself," Seraphina mumbled, flushing.

"You’re weak. Let me."

The spoon brushed her lips. Nathaniel’s smirk turned playful. "Women line up for the privilege of feeding me. The ones I feed? Rarer than unicorns. Consider yourself honored."

Seraphina gulped, her fingers twisting the sheets.

"Being fed by me is a bragging right for years. Now—open wide."