I Left With My Daughter

Isabella came down with a slight fever that night.

Cecilia stayed with her past midnight. When Isabella’s temperature finally dropped, Cecilia returned to the study and continued sorting through her assets and documents.

She needed to get everything in order before she left.

When she reached the family trust under Isabella’s name, she suddenly stopped.

The numbers did not match.

The old Don had personally set up an education trust in her name. The terms clearly stated that no one could access the funds in advance. Yet within just a few days, most of the money had been withdrawn. The approval signature was Lyon’s. The funds had been transferred into a newly established film production company.

Cecilia stared at the transaction records. A chill spread down her spine.

She did not need to investigate to know who the company was meant for.

She did not go to the family building, and she did not go to the harbor to find him. She drove straight to the pre-marital apartment in Mahattan’s Upper East Side.

It was her property. It was the place Lyon used to visit most often when he was chasing after her.

She had always believed that, at the very least, this place would remain untouched.

The moment the fingerprint lock opened, an unfamiliar fragrance rushed toward her. She understood that she had been wrong.

There was an unfinished bottle of champagne on the coffee table in the living room. A woman’s shawl lay on the couch. Low, hushed laughter came from the bedroom.

When she walked in, Gianna stood by the window. She wore one of Cecilia’s silk robes while holding a glass of wine.

That robe had been custom-made for Cecilia in Nilam. There was only one like it in the world.

Lyon stood nearby. He had just finished fastening his cufflinks. He did not look the least bit embarrassed at having been caught.

“How did you find this place?” he asked as he looked at her. His tone was calm and almost indifferent.

Cecilia did not answer. She threw the trust transaction records onto the table.

“Did you touch Isabella’s money?”

Gianna’s eyes turned teary, and she said, “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. That film project was originally meant for me, but the contract suddenly required a large guaranteed investment. Don Melville only wanted to help me! I didn’t expect it to make you this angry.”

Cecilia looked at her. Her gaze was cold as ice.

“Help you?” She turned to Lyon. “You used your daughter’s money to buy your mistress a role?”

Lyon frowned, as if her words were unpleasant to his ears.

“It is just a temporary transfer,” he said. His tone remained steady. “At the end of the month, a batch of payments from the port will come in. I’ll put the money back.”

“That’s Isabella’s trust! It’s not your cash pool.”

“Cecilia…” Lyon’s voice turned cold. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. Company projects and family accounts are often used to cover each other. I know what I’m doing.”

Cecilia looked at the man in front of her. It all felt like a cruel joke.

In the past, no matter how far he went, he had never touched anything that belonged to Isabella.

Just to please a woman, he had dared to use the protection the old Don had left for his granddaughter.

“Fine!” She gave a slight nod. “What about this apartment? Is this place also something you can use however you like, just to please someone?”

Lyon looked around. It was as if he had just remembered where he was.

He took out a checkbook from his inner pocket and wrote a string of numbers. He tore out the check and placed it in front of her.

“This is the rent,” he said. “I added an extra cleaning fee. If you think this place is dirty, have someone clean it.”

He spoke as if he were dealing with a hotel suite.

Cecilia looked at the check. At that moment, all her anger drained away.

She did not look at them again and did not argue. She folded the check and put it into her bag. She said indifferently, “Fine. Then, I’ll charge at market rate. I’ll charge you for every day you stay.”

She turned and walked out.

When she reached the door, Lyon seemed to grow impatient. He lowered his voice and said warningly, “Don’t drag my mother into this. You’ve already made enough of a scene lately.”

Cecilia did not stop.

The familiar decor faded from her view. She vaguely remembered that she and Lyon once shared a few good moments here.

After all these years, those memories only made her feel nauseous.