Chapter 221

Olivia Sinclair sprang up from her seat, her entire body trembling. Her frightened eyes darted toward the consultation room as beads of sweat formed on her palms.

To her relief, the doctor shook his head firmly. "She's had a previous termination. Another abortion could make future conception difficult. More critically, it would severely impact her health—possibly causing irreversible damage. If you want her to remain healthy, I strongly advise against it."

Celeste Dumont's face darkened with displeasure. "Then at least prescribe something to restore her vitality. She needs to regain her strength."

A cold voice suddenly sliced through the air near Olivia, addressing Celeste. "Aren't you Seraphina's assistant? Did she send you here to fetch medicine for her?"

Celeste spun around to find Donovan Kensington standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Uncertain how long he had been there or what he had overheard, Celeste quickly masked her surprise with a practiced smile. "Miss Kensington is perfectly fine. It's just one of her maids who fell ill and needed medical attention. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Kensington."

"Is that so?" Donovan's gaze dropped to Olivia.

Olivia immediately lowered her eyes, refusing to meet his.

At first, she had considered appealing to Donovan for help. But he bore the Kensington name and appeared close to Seraphina. Being family, Olivia assumed they would naturally protect each other. Any reckless move on her part might ruin her only chance at freedom.

Donovan adjusted his glasses, his striking features shadowed by suspicion. "Do I frighten you? Why won't you look at me?" he asked Olivia.

Olivia ducked her head even lower.

Celeste swiftly stepped between them, offering a placating smile. "Forgive her, Mr. Kensington. This maid is new and still adjusting. She's mute and painfully shy—an orphan, actually. If not for Miss Kensington's kindness, she wouldn't have found work with the family. Please excuse her."

Donovan chuckled, though his smile carried a frosty edge. "I never thought I'd see the day Seraphina developed a soft heart. Still, it's a refreshing change. Tell her there's no need for such caution. Grandfather and I fully support her."

"Of course, sir." Celeste nodded in understanding.

Positioned behind Celeste, Olivia missed the subtle shift in Donovan's expression.

Donovan studied Olivia one last time before turning to leave. Yet, just as he stepped into the elevator, he glanced back.

At that exact moment, Olivia lifted her gaze, and their eyes locked for a fleeting second.

Olivia's eyes were strikingly vivid—not the naive innocence of youth, but a quiet resilience tempered by hardship.

That look struck a chord deep within Donovan. Once ignited, the sense of familiarity clung to him. He couldn't place where he'd seen those eyes before, yet they left an indelible mark.

They reminded him of eyes from his childhood dreams—similar, yet tinged with sorrow and gentleness. But the memory of their owner remained frustratingly out of reach.

The elevator's chime snapped him from his thoughts. Shaking off the haunting sensation, he stepped inside.

In a lavish hospital suite resembling a penthouse—complete with a living area, bedroom, and kitchen—an elderly man played the piano.

Staff moved with hushed reverence, careful not to disturb him. After all, he was the most respected figure in Eldermere.

Footsteps approached. Seraphina entered, cradling a bouquet, her smile radiant.

As the music ceased, she praised warmly, "Grandfather, your playing grows more beautiful each day."

Her tone then turned concerned. "But you mustn't overexert yourself. The doctors insist on rest. We can't have you falling ill again."

Alistair Kensington stared blankly out the window, ignoring her completely.

Masking her irritation, Seraphina knelt before him. "Grandfather, why not rest? Shall I have the piano moved?"

His voice cut like ice. "Who are you to rearrange my belongings?"

Her smile faltered. "Grandfather, surely you remember? I'm Seraphina, your granddaughter."

His expression shifted. "My granddaughter? Then where is my other granddaughter?" he murmured, eyes clouding with grief.

Seraphina's jaw tightened. She couldn't fathom his obsession with a woman long gone—possibly dead.

"Seraphina." Donovan entered. "I approved the piano. It's his sole joy now. At his age, shouldn't we cherish what brings him happiness?"

She blinked innocently. "Donovan, I only meant—"

He interrupted firmly. "The doctors said engaging his passions may restore his memory. If you truly care, let him be."

"Fine," she conceded through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, she clutched her chest, her face paling.

Donovan frowned. "Are you unwell again?"

She shook her head weakly. "It's nothing. Grandfather's health matters more."

Alistair, momentarily lucid, glanced at her. "I've told you to prioritize yourself. Donovan handles things here. There's no need for you to visit so often."

She forced a gentle smile. "I worry about you. But I have performances coming up, so I must return to Westhaven. My trusted physicians are there—Eldermere's hospitals, while advanced, aren't familiar to me."

Alistair nodded. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll arrange your transport to the private airfield."

Donovan, silent until now, abruptly recalled Olivia's haunting eyes. "Seraphina, stay a while longer. I've scheduled a specialist for you next week—he's only available then."