novelraw Chapter 268: Getting Married at This Time, The Purpose Is Definitely Not Pure
Chapter 268: Getting Married at This Time, The Purpose Is Definitely Not Pure
In the side hall, Stone Leclair sat at the head of the dining table. When he saw her looking over, his lean, expressionless face only gave a faint nod.
Delphine’s sense of dread deepened. Since when had Stone Leclair ever taken notice of her, let alone initiated a greeting?
Beatrice Carter, a mix of delight and awkwardness on her face, said, "Your Uncle Stone mentioned that little Isaac is growing up, and keeping him in a boarding school all day isn’t ideal. It’s time to restore him to his rightful ancestry, so he will be raised under my name."
Delphine’s eyes widened as she looked at Beatrice, asking uncertainly, "What do you mean, under your name?"
"Oh, you silly child, isn’t it obvious? It means I will formally marry into the Leclair Family." Beatrice, already stunningly beautiful, had retained the elegance of wealth and luxury over the years. Her well-maintained appearance radiated the aura of a thirty-something society lady, brimming with joy.
Delphine felt a pang in her chest, as if an icy chill had enveloped her entire body. She glanced at Stone Leclair’s calm, unreadable demeanor, then at her mother, who was still lost in fantasies of wealth and status. A mix of shock and fury welled up within her.
How could someone as cunning and ruthless as Stone Leclair genuinely want to marry Beatrice? It wasn’t long ago he’d nearly killed her. Could it be another one of his twisted schemes to trap someone?
Thinking of her mother’s experiences over the years, Delphine’s gaze turned frostier. She said coldly, "I don’t agree."
Beatrice’s smile froze on her face. She reached out and pinched Delphine’s arm, scolding angrily, "What nonsense are you spouting? This decision has already been made; it’s just being communicated to you. You have no right to object."
Beatrice had been waiting for this opportunity for years. Now that Stone Leclair had finally agreed, her joy bordered on obsession. She couldn’t care less about the underlying reasons; all she knew was that she was finally going to become Mrs. Leclair, the most honored woman in the Southlands.
"I also don’t agree." A cold, deep voice rang out. Ignatius Leclair had returned from outside, wearing a dark blue coat. His strikingly handsome face carried a sharper chill than usual, and the moment he walked in, he dominated the room.
Delphine’s body trembled involuntarily as she straightened her posture. She could feel the man’s gaze on her—it burned like fire, sliced like a blade. She forced herself not to turn around, her face glacial.
Beatrice grew flustered when Ignatius openly voiced his opposition. She stammered, "Th-this was your father’s decision. And little Isaac, he’s your brother too..."
Ignatius withdrew his gaze from Delphine. After half a month of not seeing her, she was indeed living better than he had imagined.
After a fleeting moment of initial joy, the man immediately suppressed all his emotions. He looked at Beatrice with a cold expression and said, "This is something that Grandpa has the final say on."
The corners of Ignatius’s mouth curled into a cruel sneer. What a reckless fool—accepting the olive branch Stone Leclair had thrown her way. If not for Delphine’s sake, he wouldn’t have even bothered to intervene.
And who was Beatrice, really? To Stone Leclair, she’d always been nothing more than a plaything. If not for giving birth to Isaac, she wouldn’t even have been allowed to set foot in the Leclair Family’s estate. During the peak of his career, Stone Leclair couldn’t afford a single stain on his reputation, yet here he was, surrounded by destructive scandals.
Others might not know, but Ignatius was all too aware of just how cold-blooded and vicious his biological father could be. If he was choosing this moment to marry Beatrice, it was certain there were ulterior motives at play.
As Stone Leclair saw both of them united in their opposition, his brows furrowed, and he said, "I’ll bring this matter to the old man. Little Isaac is growing up; it wouldn’t make sense not to acknowledge him."
Ignatius let out a cold laugh. His long, narrow phoenix eyes were filled with derisive mockery and contempt.
Stone Leclair felt a surge of blood rise to his head, unwilling to meet the stare of his son. His expression darkened as he made a call to his secretary before leaving the room without another word.