Chapter 4 Regret
961 Words
The room was filled with swirling steam.
James's hair was still damp with water droplets when he heard Lavinia's voice. He paused, visibly caught off guard.
"Ah!"
Lavinia slammed the door shut, her ears burning red. A moment later, she shyly cracked it open just a sliver.
"Sorry, wrong room!"
A soft, low chuckle came from inside. Lavinia covered her face and quickly fled down the hallway.
As she darted away, a maid carrying a tray of coffee approached from the other end of the corridor.
"Ms. Westwood, are you lost? I should have given you better directions. Let me take you to the study."
Lavinia's flushed face turned even redder. "I'm so sorry. I really did walk into the wrong room…"
She spent quite some time in the study trying to calm down. Eventually, her thoughts became clearer, though the embarrassment still lingered.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted her.
"Come in," Lavinia called out.
The door opened to reveal Charles Flores, his coat still on, suggesting he had rushed home. Seeing him felt surreal.
"Professor…"
In just a few years, Charles had aged significantly, his once-vibrant energy dimmed by time.
They talked for a while, and Charles eventually asked about her current situation.
With genuine regret, Lavinia apologized.
Charles let out a deep sigh. "I figured as much. That early-stage ovarian cancer patient James mentioned—it's you, isn't it?"
"James?" Lavinia realized he was referring to James Sterling. She nodded blankly.
"The targeted d**g you're using falls within our research scope. He brought it up to me not long ago."
He sipped his coffee before adding, "Don't you remember? You once vowed to dedicate yourself to gynecological oncology, inspired by your late grandmother."
Lavinia's gaze dropped. "I… I almost forgot."
Back then, she was full of ambition and hope. If it hadn't been for the fire that claimed her mother's life—a tragedy tied to the same illness—she might have stayed on that path.
Charles handed her a neatly organized stack of documents. "These are your research materials. I brought them along for you."
He paused, his tone firm yet kind. "You were exceptional during your master's studies. Even though you didn't pursue a doctorate, I understand. Everyone has their own choices. But if you're ready to return, the lab will always have a place for you."
Lavinia couldn't believe it. Despite everything, Charles still regarded her as one of his brightest students. He had even kept her old research materials all these years.
"Mr. Flores, I won't let you down again," she said with conviction.
As they parted, Charles asked James to escort her out.
Smiling warmly, Charles said, "James is a professor at Lynelle University now. The project you'll be joining? He's the lead researcher, so you'll be working under him."
Lavinia felt awkward as they walked out together.
"I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to walk into the wrong room, let alone see you there," she stammered.
James, dressed in casual gray loungewear, appeared completely unfazed.
"It's fine."
Unable to suppress her curiosity, Lavinia hesitated before asking, "What's your relationship with Mr. Flores?"
James slowed his pace, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You haven't figured it out yet? He's my father. I took my mother's last name."
Lavinia blinked in surprise, only now connecting the dots. Their interactions had always been so formal, perhaps intentionally professional to avoid any appearance of bias.
She'd heard about Charles's late wife, who came from a wealthy family. If James had taken his mother's surname, it could only mean…
Her mind flashed to the Sterling family, whose name carried both power and prestige.
As they reached the gates of Sterling Manor, Lavinia stopped. Holding up a bag, she said, "You don't need to walk me any further. This jacket—I only brought it to dry clean it. I didn't expect to run into you here. I'll return it next time after it's cleaned."
James glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. As he turned to leave, he said casually, "No rush. We've got plenty of time."
At the edge of the estate, Lavinia was about to call a cab when a bright red sports car pulled up beside her.
Lucas leaned against the car, a cigarette between his fingers. He watched her approach before speaking.
"You've cleared out all your things from the house. What's that supposed to mean?"
Lucas had come home earlier that day to find the house eerily empty. The woman who used to be there—cooking, cleaning, waiting for him—was nowhere to be found. He immediately suspected she was acting out of spite.
Despite his irritation, after hearing from Rachel where Lavinia might be, he decided to come pick her up.
Lavinia ignored him and continued walking.
Lucas stubbed out his cigarette and grabbed her wrist. "Still throwing a tantrum? You think you're some naive teenager?"
She pulled her hand away, her expression icy.
"We have nothing to do with each other anymore. Please respect that, Lucas."
Her words stunned him. Lucas couldn't believe that after he had humbled himself to come here, Lavinia still refused to budge.
But then it hit him. This had to be one of her little tricks—playing hard to get.
He sneered. "Divorce, huh? You really think you can live without me?"
He tried to pull her closer, but his eyes landed on the bag she was holding—a stack of papers and a man's jacket peeking out.
His face darkened.
"You went to see your professor, huh? Or was it really another man?"
Lucas's voice dripped with accusation. "No wonder you're so eager to leave. You've already found yourself a replacement!"
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