She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 453

Victoria Jameson had called her son home for dinner. Rowan stepped through the door just as twilight settled, looking sharp in a perfectly tailored dark suit. His features bore their usual mask of icy detachment. The moment he walked into the dining room, he spotted Sylvia Wynter.

Vivienne Jameson was also there. She looked up, offering a bright smile and waving him over. "Rowan's home! Come sit down, we've been waiting for you to eat."

Sylvia turned at the sound of his name. She was dressed in an elegant two-piece skirt suit, her hair neatly tucked behind her ears. A graceful, polite smile played on her lips as she greeted him softly. "Rowan."

Rowan gave a curt nod. His gaze swept past her, devoid of any real interest.

Victoria sat at the head of the table. "Sit down and eat, Sylvia. He's always like this. Don't take it personally."

Rowan pulled out a chair and sat, his long, sculpted fingers casually unfastening the buttons of his suit cuffs.

Charles Jameson was absent tonight. Intending to play matchmaker, Victoria constantly served food onto Sylvia's plate while keeping up a steady stream of casual chatter.

Sylvia answered with poise, occasionally throwing a discreet glance at the man sitting beside her. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of hope danced in her eyes.

Rowan remained silent until Victoria brought up Lena Wynter's upcoming marriage. Suddenly, his interest seemed piqued, and he even casually directed a few questions toward Sylvia.

Vivienne threw Rowan a strange look. She had no idea what had gotten into her nephew. His own love life was a complete disaster, yet he had somehow managed to play matchmaker for her stepson.

A second later, Rowan's gaze shifted to her. "Aunt Vivienne, is Maisie at home?"

Vivienne blinked, momentarily taken aback. "She is. Why do you ask?"

"I'm going to give her a call in a bit."

After dinner, Rowan was the first to leave. He pulled his car over on a quiet stretch of road and dialed a number. It rang for only a couple of seconds before it was quickly answered.

Maisie Sutton's hesitant voice came through the speaker. "R-Rowan? Why are you calling me out of the blue?"

Completely devoid of emotion, Rowan cut straight to the chase. "Tell me exactly how Lyra helped you. Give me all the details, and don't leave out a single word."

His tone carried a natural, suffocating authority—the kind of steady, commanding presence reserved for those accustomed to wielding absolute power. It wasn't an interrogation, yet it made lying utterly impossible.

Maisie's chest tightened. She didn't dare try to brush him off.

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