hooklinebooks Chapter 377 --377
Chapter 377 --377
The old matriarch caught the subtle shift in Heena’s posture—a fleeting, pained tightening around her eyes that looked a bit petulant and exhausted.
What the grandmother didn’t know was that Heena was currently cursing Samuel to the high heavens in her mind. Because of that damn, overly enthusiastic bastard and his "wandering hands" during the morning massage, her lower back felt like it was literally about to snap in half under the weight of her heavy silk gown.
Standing in the corner, Samuel suddenly felt a violent chill run straight down his spine. Sensing the sheer, murderous irritation radiating from his wife’s mental daggers, he wisely lowered his head even further, hiding his face entirely behind his visor to avoid her glare.
The grandmother patted Heena’s hand gently. "My child, you look exhausted. Let me personally show you to your room so you can rest for a while."
Heena immediately nodded, letting her tense shoulders drop slightly. "Thank you, Grandma. I really am incredibly tired."
The grandmother smiled warmly, wrapping her arm securely around Heena’s as she prepared to lead her out of the tense courtyard.
Predictably, the Marchioness tried to step in and intercept them, desperately trying to salvage her image as a doting parent. "Mom, please, let me do it. I will happily show my baby girl to her old quarters."
The moment the words left the Marchioness’s mouth, the old lady’s expression turned instantly sub-zero. She snapped her head around, leveling a glare at her daughter-in-law that could have frozen water mid-air.
"It is perfectly fine," the matriarch said, her voice dropping into a stern, forceful tone that brooked absolutely no argument. "I am more than capable of showing my own granddaughter to her room."
The Marchioness opened her mouth, her chest heaving as she prepared to force the issue, but before she could utter another syllable, the Marquis sharply gripped her wrist. He gave her a firm, warning shake of his head. Seeing her husband’s grave expression, the Marchioness bit her lip, pausing instantly and forcing herself to remain silent.
With the path cleared, Heena offered a final, mocking glance back at the vipers over her shoulder before walking out of the courtyard, leaning comfortably against her grandmother as Samuel trailed silently behind them like a towering shadow.
The Marquis’s mansion was a sprawling, dizzying labyrinth of architecture. It was absolutely nothing like the old man’s house—Samuel’s family estate—where even though it was considered slightly larger than average, you could easily walk around the entire grounds and see every corner in a mere ten minutes.
Here, just navigating the corridors to get from the main courtyard to the private residential wing took a solid three minutes of continuous walking.
But the lovely, undeniable truth of the matter was that Heena could see just how much this grandmother truly, deeply loved her granddaughter. Why? Because from the very moment they stepped out of the courtyard doors, Heena’s feet didn’t have to touch the ground again. Noting her granddaughter’s exhaustion and stiff posture, the old matriarch immediately ordered a luxurious, cushioned sedan chair to be brought forward. She had Heena sit comfortably right beside her on the wide, elevated seat, and a team of strong, disciplined estate guards lifted the poles onto their shoulders, carrying them smoothly down the long hallways.
When the sedan chair was finally lowered, Heena stepped out and scanned the grand, heavily guarded suite before her. She realized instantly that this was absolutely not the original bedroom that had belonged to Seera.
She turned her head to look at her grandmother, keeping her mouth shut for a split second to calculate her next move. She couldn’t just blurt out, ’’This isn’t my room,’’ because that would completely contradict her story. How could she perfectly remember the exact layout of her old bedroom but completely struggle to recognize the face of her beloved grandmother? That would trigger an immediate red flag.
Instead, Heena tilted her head, letting a soft, curious smile grace her lips as she looked around the lavish silk drapes and polished wood furniture. "Grandma... is this really my old room?"
Hearing the question, the old woman looked at her with an expression filled with profound tenderness. She reached up, her frail, warm fingers gently touching Heena’s cheek as her eyes softened.
"No, my darling," the grandmother whispered softly, a protective, unyielding fire flickering in her gaze. "This is a brand-new suite that I personally cleared out and prepared for my baby girl. From this day forward, this is your room."
Heena froze for a second.
The brief stall in her movements wasn’t because of anything the grandmother had done or said. It was just a sudden, sharp wave of discomfort washing over her chest. Looking at the lavish, heavily guarded suite—a literal sanctuary carved out by the old matriarch’s own hands—Heena could see the raw, terrifying depth of how much this woman loved her granddaughter.
Now, Heena, who had spent a significant part of her life navigating through absolute hell, wouldn’t say she had never felt love before. No, she wasn’t some cliché, entirely unloved creature; she had been a deeply cherished child in her own past, a person who had been genuinely loved by many people. But that was exactly why she found this so difficult.
In her line of work, completing a mission where someone fiercely, unconditionally loved the original host was always the hardest psychological hurdle. Fooling enemies was a calculation. Fooling a loving protector was an emotional minefield. Betraying or deceiving people like this grandmother was incredibly heavy; sometimes, that kind of pure, unadulterated affection could move even the most cold-blooded, strong-willed members of a team so deeply that they would emotionally collapse under the guilt.
From the very moment she had stepped into the estate, Heena had been fighting that exact feeling.
She knew, with absolute certainty, that the one person she needed to remain entirely immovable, steel-faced, and perfectly in character for was this grandmother. She could not let her find out, by any microscopic chance or passing doubt, that she was not the original Seera.
Because when someone loves you too much, they will go to any cost for you. If this fiercely protective, powerful old woman ever discovered that her real, precious granddaughter was already cold in her grave—and if she found out the exact, gruesome details of how she had been slaughtered by her own mother—God only knew what this legendary matriarch would do. She would burn the entire Marquis house, the capital, and herself to ashes just to drag the killers to hell.
Heena swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, her eyes softening into a gaze of pure, focused determination as she looked back at the old woman. For the sake of the dead girl, and for the survival of the living, she had to play this part flawlessly.
Seeing her grandmother’s shoulders sag with a heavy, decades-old exhaustion, Heena gently squeezed the old woman’s hand. "Go and get some rest, Grandma. I know you’re tired, and honestly, I’m completely drained too."
The old matriarch sighed, patting Heena’s cheek one last time. "Hmm, you should rest well, my child. As for me... I have many things I need to do. The whole capital needs to know by tonight that my granddaughter is back."