Faux Vows, True Desires

Chapter 410

Cecilia breezed up to him, her smile as bright as the summer sun. "Since you'd do anything for me, let's go," she said with a playful twinkle in her eye.

Owen, slightly befuddled by her rapid change of pace, followed nonetheless, asking as they walked, "Where are we headed?"

"Just follow me, that's all you need to know."

With a nod, Owen obediently followed Cecilia out of the shop.

Stepping outside, they saw Lucinda and her husband Stefan, hand in hand, returning from the market, Stefan laden with grocery bags filled with the makings of a classic Sunday roast.

Owen couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the sight of the affectionate couple. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

He had held Cecilia's hand, wrapped his arms around her, and yes, even stolen a secret kiss—a detail Cecilia was blissfully unaware of.

But ever since the divorce, as he pursued Cecilia with genuine intent, his touches had become rare, a testament of his respect for her boundaries.

"Hey Lucy," Cecilia called out, pausing as their friends approached. "Could you mind the shop for a bit?"

"Sure thing," Lucinda replied, not questioning Cecilia's plans with Owen—it was her usual weekend duty to run the shop.

Cecilia wheeled over her electric scooter, a modest vehicle compared to the luxury car Owen had offered her, which she'd steadfastly refused to accept. To truly love someone, Owen had learned,

meant considering their feelings in every action, respecting their choices, never pressuring them into anything they disliked.

Mounting the scooter, Cecilia looked back at Owen. "Hop on."

"I can drive," Owen offered.

Cecilia shrugged, "You sure you can handle a scooter? Besides, with that arm injury, I don't want you hurting yourself or, heaven forbid, flipping us over. Get on, or I'll leave without you if you keep fussing."

Hearing this, Owen quickly settled behind her, turning to wave cheekily at Stefan. "See you, buddy! We're off to catch some wind."

Stefan chuckled, giving a casual wave goodbye. Once they were out of sight, he turned to Lucinda. "Look at Owen, showing off in front of me. He's got a long way to go before he can match me."

The midday sun blazed overhead.

"At this hour, Cecilia wouldn't normally fancy a ride," Stefan mused. "Only Owen could be thrilled about a midday spin."

"Honey, let's get inside before we roast out here," he said, leading Lucinda back into the shop.

"Lucy, could you call your brother Keith and check if he's joining us for lunch? Should I prepare a plate for him?"

Lucinda nodded and reached for her phone. Keith didn't pick up.

"He's probably driving," she guessed.

Stefan nodded. "You keep an eye on the shop. I'll head back to your place and start cooking."

Originally, Lucinda had planned to give up her rental, but the landlord, recognizing the cachet of having a member of the Anderson family as a tenant, insisted she stay rent-free to boost the property's profile. The idea was simple: if Lucinda Anderson chose to live there, the place must be top-notch, and others would clamor to rent nearby, even at a premium, just to be in the same building as Mrs. Anderson.

Despite the landlord's reluctance to see her go, Lucinda continued to pay her rent on time each month, though the landlord never accepted the transactions.

"Okay," Lucinda agreed, making another attempt to reach Keith, who remained unreachable.

Concern began to creep into her thoughts. "Even if he's driving, he'd usually pick up. Could something have happened?" In Pinehurst, even the most daring wouldn't risk a direct attack, but without his bodyguards, Keith could be vulnerable.

Worry mounting, Lucinda dialed Keith several more times to no avail.

Unbeknownst to Lucinda, Keith was indeed facing danger. He had been strolling aimlessly through Pinehurst, simply following his whims, when he stumbled upon an ambush.

This time, the assassins had foregone firearms, perhaps learning from their previous costly failure, and instead, several masked assailants dressed in black, their eyes the only feature visible, had cornered Keith, forcing him out of his car and into a confrontation.

As Lucinda made her calls, Keith was too preoccupied with his attackers to answer.

Keith, as the young master of the Blue family, was no stranger to combat. His adversaries seemed to know this and had sent skilled killers to match him.

Facing off against six, Keith was starting to feel the pressure when suddenly, the roar of a motorcycle echoed in the distance. The sound of someone tearing up the road was unmistakable, a

thrill that Keith himself had been seeking in his isolated jaunt away from the city.

Within a minute, the motorcycle appeared, halting abruptly about fifteen meters away. The rider, clad in black leather and wearing a helmet, was unmistakably a woman based on her silhouette. She dismounted with grace and flung her helmet at one of the attackers, hitting him square in the head.

As she made a swift call to the authorities, one assailant charged. With an agile flip, she vaulted behind her bike, dodging his attack.

"So, you've got some moves," the attacker sneered.

The woman, her long hair cascading behind her, wore a silver butterfly mask that concealed her face. Despite this, her large, expressive eyes suggested a beauty obscured by the mask.

"Six against one? Talk about a fair fight," she mocked with a hint of sarcasm.

She watched Keith, her gaze tinged with admiration, as he continued to fend off the remaining five attackers.

She handled the hitman with ease, like a kid playing a game of tag, but she wasn't in a hurry to take him down. Instead, she toyed with him, watching him dart around in desperation, all the while appreciating Keith's cool demeanor in battle.

With one less goon to worry about, Keith was having a much easier time.

The woman's arrival had distracted the hitmen just enough for him to take out two more of them.

Two down, things got even easier for Keith.

In less than half an hour, all five of the thugs that had surrounded him were sprawled out on the ground, too beaten to even crawl.

Seeing Keith had won his fight, the woman finally dealt with her own 'cat,' knocking the hitman down for good.

The 'cat' was seething with rage, feeling utterly toyed with by the woman.

Keith moved to pull off the hitmen's masks, but the woman quickly cautioned him, "Watch out for any dirty tricks. Let the cops handle it. I've called them; they should be here in two minutes."

No sooner had she finished her sentence than the wail of police sirens began to grow louder, closing in on their location.