He Went to Hell for Me, But I Let Him Go

Hearing Lucas’ sharp question, Celia snapped back to reality.

Noticing the love letters still in her hands, she quickly placed them back into the drawer and mumbled an explanation. “I was just trying to tidy up for you…”

But her attempt to explain didn’t soften his mood.

Instead, his tone grew colder. “Did you look at the contents?”

Celia froze, surprised that this was what he cared about most. Seeing his expression darken further, she quickly shook her head. “No, I didn’t read them.”

Her answer seemed to ease his tension slightly, but when he spoke again, his voice was still edged with irritation.

“Leave. And don’t touch my things again without my permission.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” she murmured, lowering her head. Without another word, she turned and left the study.

Back in her room, Celia lay on her bed, but her mind kept drifting back to the letters she had seen in the study.

She couldn’t recall ever hearing about Lucas being interested in someone. As far as she could remember, there had never been another woman in his life apart from herself and Yvonne.

So, who were those letters for?

Could they have been for her?

The thought sent her mind spiraling until exhaustion finally pulled her into sleep.

When she woke again, it was the middle of the night. A faint sound from the next room stirred her, and she realized Yvonne had returned.

Instantly alert, Celia moved closer to her door. The proximity allowed her to hear their conversation clearly, especially since they hadn’t shut their door.

Yvonne’s voice came first, brimming with delight. “I was only gone for two days, and you wrote me so many love letters?”

Her excitement was palpable, and it was quickly followed by Lucas’ response, warm and indulgent. His voice carried the same gentle tone he used to reserve for Celia in the past, back before she confessed her feelings to him.

“What? You don’t like them?”

Yvonne laughed softly, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I love them. You’ll have to write me one every day from now on.”

As Yvonne’s final, teasing words fell, the sound of muffled intimacy drifted from the next room, followed by the soft click of a closing door.

Celia quickly stepped away from her own door, retreating back to her bed. Lying down, she shut her eyes, but her face had turned pale.

For a brief moment, she couldn’t help but find herself both pathetic and laughable.

“Celia Quinn, what are you even thinking?” she whispered bitterly.

When she had seen Lucas’ panicked expression earlier, an absurd thought had flashed through her mind—that maybe, just maybe, those love letters were written for her.

But now, after hearing his conversation with Yvonne, she knew just how ridiculous that idea had been.

By the time the countdown reached three days, it was Yvonne’s birthday.

Lucas spared no expense, throwing an extravagant party in her honor. The guest list was long, filled with prominent figures, because this celebration wasn’t just about Yvonne’s birthday.

During the evening, Lucas made another major announcement:

In the near future, he and Yvonne would be hosting their engagement party.

As the crowd swarmed forward with congratulations, Celia stood frozen for a moment, stunned. Did he truly care for Yvonne this much?

In just three short months, he had already decided to marry her.

She let out a bitter laugh, glancing down at the gift in her hands. What she had originally planned as a parting gift for Lucas had, unexpectedly, turned into a congratulatory present for his engagement.

As the line of well-wishers thinned, Celia finally stepped forward, holding the small package out to him. She had resolved long ago to wish him happiness, no matter who he chose to be with.

But now, standing here, forcing those words out felt far more painful than she had imagined.

“Uncle,” she began, her voice low and strained, “congratulations on your engagement... I hope you’ll have a long and happy life together.”