The Contracted Ever After (Cordelia and Ronan) novel Chapter 730

August had a novel idea that evening—he was going to cook dinner for his wife and daughter. It was something he hadn't done in decades.

Aunt Whitney decided to stay home for some much-needed rest, while Cordelia brought young Callum along for the visit.

Cordelia had never heard Ronan mention Serenity Manor before, so the place held a certain novelty for her.

As they entered the estate, they were greeted by the rustling of green bamboo in the cool breeze—it was serene, a perfect spot for the golden years. Beyond, a quaint archway led them into the courtyard, revealing a three-story detached manor that held a certain understated elegance. Cordelia couldn't help but admire the place; it was a cut above Victoria's home. Where Victoria's seemed playful, this seemed serious—every piece of furniture was timeless, every painting was by a known artist. The mahogany couches alone made Cordelia feel like her previous admiration for Victoria's place was naive.

Descending the staircase was a woman in flowing silk, her hair, usually pinned up, cascaded down her shoulders. Her skin was radiant, and for a moment, she was the starlet of yesteryear, the sheltered princess of the Keegan family. To her, August was the world. Some people seem born for love, enduring life's hardships while preserving their innocent hearts. She called out, "August," with a sweet smile on her face.

Cordelia could scarcely recognize Alana; she never dressed like this when they lived together. Alana had always seemed so distant, but it was true what they say—a woman dresses for the man she loves.

Cordelia felt like an outsider, but then again, she always felt accidental.

"Dad, has the house always been this... lavish?" Cordelia couldn't help but ask August.

"Oh, the place came fully decorated, but Ronan picked out most of the furniture just last week. His taste is impeccable," August replied with a hint of pride. "In my eyes, the man can do no wrong."

"Really?" Cordelia asked, her tone neutral.

Just then, the doorbell chimed, and the maid went to open it. In came Ronan, carrying a bottle of red wine. "A '82 vintage, handle with care," he told the maid, who nodded and headed for the kitchen.

"You could keep it for your retirement," August suggested. "You and Cordelia, what could be better?"

"That was the plan, originally."

"Originally? What, you've changed your mind?" August prodded. "Cordelia is our daughter, you know. You can't be too harsh with her."

"Of course not, it's usually her giving me a hard time," Ronan quipped.

"Who's giving you a hard time?" Cordelia retorted, her thoughts racing. How could he read others so well without them saying a word? Why didn't she ever get that chance?