"When we go downstairs later, stay close to me." Dominic Vance spoke in a deep, low voice, his tone cold but carrying an absolute sense of command that could not be defied: "Whatever they say, pay them no mind. Do not open your mouth first, do you understand?"
Lucien obediently blinked his eyes, which were still misty with residual moisture, and gave a very slight nod.
Lucien chuckled inwardly. He naturally would not open his mouth first, but would wait until the most opportune moment to deal them the most fatal blow.
In his conscious mind space, System 000 excitedly crunched on popcorn: [Get ready to dress up for the show of the century, Host.]
Hearing the system's voice, Lucien narrowed his eyes once again. He felt as though this system had a split personality. Normally, when assigning tasks, it would be relatively professional and aloof. But setting work aside, it was rather like a child.
Although the dining room in this villa was not overly large, it was heavily imbued with a European royal style. The crystal chandelier radiated a brilliant light, yet it could not dispel the suffocatingly oppressive atmosphere present at this very moment.
Mr. Sinclair and Miles Sinclair had arrived earlier and had already divided the seating. Mr. Sinclair sat on the right side, and opposite him was Miles. Miles kept his face bowed, his eye sockets rimmed with red, and his shoulders occasionally trembling violently as if he were trying to hold back tears, playing the role of a betrayed victim suffering countless grievances. Beside Miles was an empty chair, evidently reserved for Dominic.
As for the chair at the very far end of the table, furthest away from everyone else, that was the customary seat of the redundant son, Lucien Sinclair.
The sound of steady footsteps echoed on the carpet-lined staircase. Dominic strode forward, and Lucien obediently kept his head bowed as he followed closely behind Dominic's back, shrinking into himself like a faint shadow.
Seeing Dominic appear, Mr. Sinclair cleared his throat, intending to open his mouth and say something. However, Dominic's subsequent action caused all the words Mr. Sinclair was about to utter to become utterly lodged in his throat.
Dominic walked straight to the seat reserved for him, but he was in no hurry to sit down. The man's large hand reached out and directly pulled out the chair positioned immediately next to his own. He then cast his gaze toward Lucien, jerking his chin in a silent gesture.
The entire dining room fell into a dead silence.
Miles abruptly snapped his head up, his widened eyes staring in sheer disbelief at the chair next to Dominic. Mr. Sinclair also knitted his brows tightly, his complexion turning extremely unsightly in an instant. This action was tantamount to a direct slap across the faces of both the father and son.
Previously in this house, Lucien did not even have the right to sit at the dining table with them. Now, this person was actually being allowed to sit next to Dominic?
Lucien acted out the timid and awkward demeanor to absolute perfection. He cautiously glanced up at Mr. Sinclair and Miles, then looked back at Dominic. Twisting his hands tightly into the hem of his shirt, he timidly sat down on the chair right next to the man, carefully shrinking against Dominic's side.
This posture nearly drove Mr. Sinclair and Miles insane with rage, but in Dominic's eyes, Lucien looked no different from a bullied little rabbit. He looked incredibly adorable.
The meal commenced in an eerie, deathly silence. No one bothered to open their mouth; the only sound echoing in the room was the occasional clatter of jade chopsticks and silver cutlery clinking against porcelain dishes. The atmosphere was as taut as a bowstring, resembling a powder keg just waiting for a tiny spark to detonate.
Lucien kept his face bowed so low that his chin nearly touched his chest. He held his chopsticks, deliberately making his pale, slender hand tremble slightly. Only occasionally did he dare to pick up a few grains of white rice and place them into his mouth. His aggrieved and frightened appearance made it seem as though taking a heavy breath would result in him being dragged out and beaten.
Finally, the person who could no longer endure it was Miles.
He slammed his chopsticks down heavily on the table, and the tears that had been held back for so long finally tumbled down in a cascading shower. Miles lifted his watery eyes to stare fixedly at Dominic, his voice choking with sobs and brimming with grievance: "Dominic... Do you... do you not have anything to say to me? The matter from this afternoon... what exactly is going on?"
The question, carrying an air of reproach and the posture of a fully justified victim, instantly shattered the silence. Hearing his precious son weeping, Mr. Sinclair immediately revealed a look of visible heartache, his sharp gaze sweeping toward Lucien with burning fury.
He gave a meaningful wink, and the butler, who had been standing in a corner of the room the entire time, immediately understood the cue. The butler took a step forward, bowing his head respectfully, yet his tone was icy, articulating every single word with distinct clarity.
"Young Master, Mr. Sinclair, Young Master Miles... I am but a lowly servant, and I originally would not dare to interfere in the affairs of my masters. But there are some matters... that truly cannot be left unsaid. For the past few days, the other servants and I have continuously seen Lucien sneaking around near Young Master's bedroom area. He frequently dresses... in very skimpy, sheer clothing, wandering back and forth..."
The butler paused for a beat, casting a look of utter contempt at Lucien, before delivering the final, filthy blow: "Everyone is well aware of what happened after that. Young Master is a young man full of vigor and vitality. Being targeted by someone using every slutty trick in the book, offering himself up on a silver platter to seduce him like that... how could he possibly defend against it?"
[Nice, this is the classic script of shifting the blame onto someone else. The fabricated witness testimonies and material evidence are absolutely flawless. They are planning to turn you into a vixen who drugged him and climbed into his bed, Host!]
System 000's voice whispered in Lucien's mind, full of sheer excitement.
Lucien almost laughed out loud in contempt, but on the surface, his shoulders trembled violently, his face turning as pale as a sheet of white paper. He dropped his chopsticks, covering his mouth with both hands as if he simply could not believe the filthy slander he had just heard.