the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 14: The Young Master Orders You to Move into the Sma

By the ti Delphine returned to the Leclair estate, dinner had already ended.

"Miss Five, have you eaten yet?" The butler smiled warmly as he saw her arrive.

"No, I’ll just make sothing simple for myself," Delphine replied softly. She could never bring herself to act coldly toward the elderly butler, whose deanor was always kind despite his age.

"The chef’s already left for the day, but if you need anything, feel free to ask ." The butler nodded and smiled, making no attempt to intervene, perhaps deciding it was better to give the younger generation so space.

"One more thing, Miss Five—you might need to switch rooms. The eldest young master had so valuable paintings delivered, which he specifically requested be placed in the study’s adjacent room. As a result, I’m afraid you’ll have to move up to the attic on the top floor." The butler’s tone was gentle, yet filled with apology.

Delphine froze for a mont, then walked to her previous room. As expected, in half a day’s ti, all the furniture and decorations had vanished. The room had been transford into an art studio, housing seven or eight paintings. Her face darkened as she stood silently at the doorway.

The layout of the Leclair estate was far inferior to the luxurious villas the family owned elsewhere. The number of rooms was limited, and they were assigned strictly based on rank and status.

Her standing within the Leclair family was unbearably low, forcing her to live in a room converted from the first-floor storage closet. Now that Ignatius had taken over her room, the only place left for her was the attic on the top floor.

The top floor of the estate had been renovated into a rooftop garden by Ignatius, with the attic originally used for storing plants and gardening supplies.

Delphine didn’t care where she lived, but staying in the attic would put her dangerously close to Ignatius’ bedroom on the top floor—it was akin to walking straight into the lion’s den.

"I’ve already had your belongings moved up there, Miss Five. Don’t worry—the attic has been tidied up; it’s clean and elegant, and it’s right next to the rooftop garden. Would you like to show you the way?" the butler asked.

Delphine shook her head, forcing a weak smile and speaking dejectedly, "No need. I’ll just fix myself sothing to eat—you may go about your business."

The butler withdrew. Delphine sighed, entered the kitchen, and rummaged through the fridge, eventually making a simple beef and tomato noodle dish.

As she carried the noodles out, she stumbled across Ignatius standing in the side hall.

Ignatius was wearing a brown bathrobe, standing by the window making coffee. When he saw her, his long, deep-set eyes flicked over indifferently, his strikingly handso face devoid of expression.

Seeing his cold deanor, Delphine felt her heart tremble slightly but steadied herself, forcing herself to sit at the dining table and eat her noodles.

One brewed coffee in silence, the other quietly ate noodles. The side hall was unusually calm and harmonious.

Just last night, the two of them—who were either exchanging cutting remarks or cold indifference—had shared a night of unrestrained passion that bordered on chaos.

When it ca to being two-faced and hypocritical, the Leclair family mbers were all experts.

Those noodles tasted utterly bland. After about five minutes, Delphine could no longer stomach them. She picked up the bowl and headed back to the kitchen.

"Don’t put cilantro in next ti," the man said, his voice detached.

Delphine’s body stiffened mid-step, her tone cold as she retorted, "You took over my room."

"The paintings are quite precious—one piece is worth millions." Ignatius curled his lips faintly, sipping his coffee with an unchanged expression.

Those paintings were rely a spur-of-the-mont whim, air-shipped over just so he could justify forcing her to sleep on the top floor instead. At his age, won were becoming indispensable, and having one readily available in the house was convenient.

Delphine knew all too well what he was plotting. The top floor was Ignatius’ domain. Thinking of the man’s uncontrollable and frenzied appetite in bed made her expression instantly grim.

She lowered her gaze and brushed past him, but before she could take a step, her wrist was grabbed. The man’s voice was low enough to send shivers down her spine.

"What happened to your forehead?"