The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 418

The outskirts of Paris, Château Rothschild.

The car rolled slowly through the wrought-iron gates, tracing the gravel driveway deeper into the estate. The sycamore trees lining the path cast long shadows in the setting sun, while the grand fountain danced in the twilight, its water droplets refracting golden light.

Sebastian sat in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror at Evelyn in the back.

She was leaning against the seat, gazing out the window, lost in thought. The fading sunlight fell softly upon her face, giving her a warm, gentle glow.

Charles sat beside her with his eyes closed, seemingly dozing off.

The car pulled up to the front steps of The Citadel.

The butler was already waiting. Seeing the car arrive, he hurried down the steps to open the door.

Charles stepped out first, leaning heavily on his cane as he walked toward the entrance. After a few steps, he glanced back at Sebastian, a deeply meaningful smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Young man," he said. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Sebastian's heart skipped a beat.

He instinctively looked over at Evelyn.

She had already walked into the living room and settled onto the sofa, looking down at her phone. Her brow was slightly furrowed, as if she had just read an unpleasant message.

Sebastian stood by the doorway, watching her frown. An inexplicable urge swelled in his chest.

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to ask what was wrong.

He wanted to do something to smooth out that furrow in her brow.

But he didn't know what to say. He just stood there like a block of wood.

The butler stepped into the living room and immediately spotted Sebastian standing by the door. He glanced at Evelyn on the sofa, then at Charles waiting for an answer, and finally rolled his eyes slightly before letting out a deliberate cough.

"Sir," the butler began, infusing his tone with just the right amount of distress. "Why have you returned so early? I assumed you'd be out all afternoon. Dinner hasn't even been started, and the kitchen staff..."

Charles shot him a look.

The butler didn't even blink, continuing smoothly. "Ms. Sullivan's nourishing broth is being kept warm, of course, but we haven't had time to prep the ingredients for the main course. What should we..."

Charles paused.

He looked at his butler, then over at Sebastian, and suddenly understood.

This old fox.

He had served Charles for decades—when had he ever made a mistake with meal times? This excuse was painfully transparent.

And since when had this old fox taken such a liking to Sebastian?

Charles recalled how, over the past few days, the butler had been subtly praising Sebastian to him. Dropping comments like, 'This young man is very resilient,' 'He wakes up before dawn every day to cook,' and 'His heart for Ms. Sullivan is genuine.'

If the man hadn't been his loyal servant for decades, Charles would have suspected he had been bought off.

A slight smile tugged at Charles's lips.

"We ran into a minor issue today, so we returned early," he said casually. "I was planning to take my granddaughter out to their favorite restaurant, but..."

He didn't finish the sentence, waving his hand dismissively instead.

The butler nodded sympathetically, looking appropriately regretful.

"Shall we... put something simple together for tonight? I can have the kitchen rush..."

Before he could finish, another voice interrupted.

"I'll do it."

Everyone turned to look.

Sebastian had already shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it blindly to Lance behind him. He rolled his dress shirt sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the lean, corded muscle of his forearms.

"I'll cook," he declared.

Lance stood there hugging the jacket, completely dumbfounded.

He watched Sebastian casually roll up his sleeves, carrying himself as if this was the most natural thing in the world, and a bizarre sensation washed over him.