Chapter 22
Lance hadn’t been paying close attention to their conversation—until now.
Now, he sat there frozen, his expression one of pure disbelief.
He turned to Kyle.
“Wait… don’t tell me that Lenore is the ‘Aunt’ you always talk about?”
Kyle glanced away, looking irritated.
Lenore, however, smirked slightly, her eyebrow arching in amusement.
“Always talking about me, huh?”
Lance, caught off guard, nodded absently.
“Yeah, all the time! He says you’re really beauti—uh…”
Before he could finish, Kyle smacked a hand over Lance’s mouth, shoving him aside.
“Shut up.”
He shot a nervous glance at Lenore, as if hoping she hadn’t heard.
Lance, still muffled under Kyle’s palm, mumbled in confusion.
This doesn’t make sense…
Kyle was eighteen. Lenore was seventeen.
Even if she was some miracle late-born child, the age gap didn’t add up.
Plus, they had different last names.
Kyle let out a frustrated sigh and finally explained—quietly.
“She’s my grandpa’s goddaughter. Is that okay with you?”
Lance just sat there, completely speechless.
A Call from Troy
The final school bell rang.
As students poured out of their classrooms, Lenore’s phone vibrated.
She took it out, glanced at the screen, and let out a tired sigh.
Troy. Again.
She answered, twirling a pen between her fingers.
Her voice was ice-cold.
“What now?”
Troy’s voice came through, sharp and tense.
“I don’t know how you got into Greenvine High, but if you cause trouble for Esther, you’ll regret it.”
Lenore let out a light, mocking laugh.
“You’d better tell her not to provoke me.”
Troy clenched his jaw.
Talking to her is like punching a pillow.
He forced himself to take a deep breath.
“Just act like you don’t know Esther at school.”
Lenore didn’t even bother responding.
“Hanging up now.”
Click.
She tossed her phone onto the desk.
Kyle, who had been leaning on his hand, turned to her.
“Aunt Lenore… you still haven’t cut ties with the Smedley family, huh?”
His tone was low, unreadable.
Troy didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her, let alone call himself her father.
Lenore didn’t look up from the rough sketch she was doodling on her paper.
She simply said, “No.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered over the drawing.
The design looked like mechanical parts, intricately detailed—except for the delicate swallowtail butterfly adorning the edge.
A contradiction.
Just like Lenore herself.
An Unexpected Visit
That afternoon, Lenore texted Bonnie, then grabbed an excuse slip for the evening study session.
She headed out of the school, walking without a care—until she felt it.
A presence.
She stopped mid-step.
A tall man in a black suit and sunglasses stood right in her path.
His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable.
Lenore’s sharp gaze darkened instantly.
Her usual carefree aura vanished, replaced by a cold, almost lethal stillness.
“Who sent you?” she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a knife.
The man flinched slightly, but quickly regained composure.
He pointed toward a black Mercedes-Benz parked nearby.
“Mr. Chapin.”
Lenore licked her lips, her expression unreadable.
She walked over, but—
She didn’t get in.
Instead, she leaned casually against the car, exuding a charm that was both elegant and dangerous.
“What do you want?”
The man inside didn’t open the door.
He just rolled the window down slightly, revealing a pair of narrow, anxious eyes.
“I heard you left Peacefield for Jinslenburg, so I came to check on you.”
He hesitated, then added—
“I brought some guards. How about they stay to protect you?”
Lenore’s expression didn’t change, but a scornful chuckle escaped her lips.
“Why? Do they think I’ll cause chaos?”
The man didn’t answer.
Lenore’s voice turned colder.
“I’m just attending Greenvine High. I won’t be in any trouble. Tell your people to piss off.”
A brief silence.
Then—
“Studying? You?”
The words came slowly, as if they physically pained him to say.
Even the bodyguard standing nearby looked like he had just been told the sky was green.
Lenore raised an eyebrow, a mocking glint in her eye.
“Got a problem with that?”
The man in the car and the bodyguard exchanged glances.
Neither of them spoke.
Problem?
They could hardly believe it.
Everyone in their inner circle knew Lenore was different.
She could read at three.
She had mastered martial arts by five.
By ten, she had outsmarted grown scholars and made powerful figures bow to her skills.
And now—
She was saying she was going to school?
The man in the car eyed her school uniform.
A thought crossed his mind.
If she isn’t messing with us…
I should probably mourn for those students.
Not just for a minute.
But for a whole hour.
