Chapter 418 – Emotional Return over Material Profit
[You always say that when you’re about to make a terrible business decision.]
’I said shut up.’
Lux exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders ease. Watching the trio in front of him—the way Ariel clung to her mother like a lifeline, the way the father cradled her like sothing he thought he’d lost forever—he didn’t even pretend to justify it.
The math didn’t matter this ti.
She needed this.
Not his collection. Not his house. Not his gilded chaos.
Her family.
Her real one.
And if he was the one who made that happen, if he was the one who returned a daughter to her parents...
Well. He’d take that over stock dividends.
Probably.
Sira, who had discreetly moved to avoid the pearls now carpeting the floor, reached down and picked one up between two fingers. "These are going to bankrupt soone’s vault," she murmured. "She’s basically a crying hedge fund."
"Let her have this," Lux said quietly.
Sira glanced at him. Really looked.
Then nodded once, no teasing, no smirks.
"I hope she doesn’t forget you," she said.
"She won’t. I’m her anchor," Lux replied.
[Would you like to file a loss report for projected pearl inco?]
Lux ntally rolled his eyes. ’No. File it under "gains."’
[Understood. Adjusting priority: Emotional Return over Material Profit.]
He allowed himself a small smile. One that didn’t feel earned. Not yet.
"Alright," he said softly, more to himself than anyone. "One step at a ti."
The mont hung there. Quiet. Breathless. Ariel’s parents were still clutching her like she’d disappear if they blinked. And maybe, for them, that fear was real. You don’t misplace a daughter for over a decade and co out of it emotionally stable.
Her mother was sobbing again, half-laughing through it, the kind of high-pitched, overwheld sound that cracked sothing in Lux’s chest. Her father just kept murmuring, "My baby... my little girl..."
The man looked at Lux. "Thank you..."
Lux exhaled, straightened his posture. His tone shifted, sliding back into sothing calm and professional—Greed lobbyist mode, but the soft-edged, sympathetic version.
"Mr. Avariel," Lux said, voice asured but not cold. "Please don’t ntion it. I only hope we can have good terms moving forward. Ariel deserves a place where she’s safe. And welcod."
The man nodded. His wife bowed her head. "You have given us... everything."
Lux shook his head. "Not everything. Just the path. She walked it herself."
Then he offered a small smile. "Also, we already went shopping today. So of her new clothes are still in my car."
Rava, who had been watching all of this with her usual calm queenly presence, stepped forward, pulling her phone from her bag with one elegant motion. "I’ll have my assistant retrieve the items. They’ll be delivered here as soon as possible."
Lux dipped his head to her. "Thank you."
"Of course," Rava said smoothly, the words edged with quiet steel.
Then Lux turned back to Ariel.
She was still teary-eyed, still caught in a storm of emotions, but now she was looking at him. Really looking.
He took her hand.
"Ariel," he said gently. "There’s one more thing. We need to show them."
Her eyes widened. She hesitated. Then she nodded, just once.
Slowly, she opened her coat.
Her blouse was modest, a soft blue silk that shimred faintly in the sunlight, but when she slipped it off one shoulder, the marks beneath were anything but soft.
Long, pale scars. So barely healed. One ran along her collarbone like a cruel signature. Others wrapped around her upper arms like she’d been bound. One mark at her side was a shade deeper, angrier. Not old enough to fade.
Her parents gasped. Audible.
The mother stepped forward, trembling. Her hand hovered in the air, afraid to touch. "Who..." she choked. "Who did this to you?"
Ariel said nothing. Just swallowed.
Lux didn’t.
"The Delmars did," he said, quiet and controlled. "These aren’t accidents. They’re not training marks or childhood injuries. They’re punishnts. Branding, even."
He could feel Sira beside him shift. The kind of stillness a predator made before lunging.
"Also," Lux added, gaze flicking to the mother, "when I found her, she was unconscious. On the street. In the heat. Passed out from exhaustion. They kicked her out like garbage. No escort. No warning. Just... gone."
[Rage Levels Rising. Cortisol Detection Spiking. Please be careful, sir.]
The mother turned bone-white. The father’s fists clenched.
Sira, sipping from her water like it was wine, let her lips curl.
"The Delmars..." the mother hissed.
"Sirens," Lux confird, matching the cold fury in her voice with his own brand of asured venom. "More concerned with reputation than blood. More interested in pearl markets than her life."
Sira leaned forward slightly, lips parting. "Please," she said, tone deceptively sweet. "If you need help with revenge, do let us know. I adore a bit of inter-family drama. Especially when it ends with screaming."
Lux gave her a side glance.
She just smiled innocently.
But the Avariels—oh, they were pissed now. The father’s jaw had set into stone. The mother wiped her tears, not gently, but like war paint.
"No," the father said. "We have our ways. We don’t forget insults. Not ones like this."
Sira visibly pouted.
"Of course," Lux said smoothly. "But when you do execute those ways, please let know. I have sothing that can help after. Once everything’s settled, I’d like to erase those scars. I know a way. A rare dicine."
He glanced at Ariel again. "All of them."
The mother choked out another thank-you. The father nodded, more restrained this ti.
"Also," Lux added, adjusting his cufflink, "when you do plan your retaliation... please do send us an invitation."
The father looked at him. Questioning.
Lux tilted his head. "We can be your witnesses. Or your audience. Whichever suits you."
[Sir, I assu you’re doing this for networking purposes, not vengeance voyeurism?]
’Both.’
Sira perked up. Practically glowing. Her face said "let front row this revenge show and bring popcorn laced with poison."
Lux? Lux kept his expression neutral. Polished. Perfect.
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