Chapter 91:

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“You truly have a way of reading me like an open book,” Allison admitted with a touch of humor. “How could I possibly keep anything from those eagle eyes of yours?” They shared a knowing grin, each thinking the other was sly in their own right.

After all, building a solid relationship with Kellan was like planting a seed in fertile soil—it could only lead to fruitful results. The key was gaining his trust and, more importantly, forging a connection with his grandmother.

“By the way, there are several competitions coming up in the next few months. The speed parkour race is in two weeks. What do you say? Interested?” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with excitement, fully aware of Allison’s flair for extreme sports. With a mischievous grin, she added, “I love watching you compete. You’re such a natural—it’s like you were born for this stuff.”

“Competitions, huh…” Allison mused, taking a leisurely sip of water. “Are the prizes worth the effort?”

“Not too shabby. First place gets one million, so you can bet the competition will be fierce. But something tells me that kind of cash isn’t what motivates you—you’ve got more than enough already,” Rebecca replied with a knowing shake of her head, finding it amusing that someone as wealthy as Allison would still chase after smaller wins.

“You’ve got 300 million tucked away in that black card account overseas. Why not dip into it? Or better yet, tap into the profits from Jasmine Restaurant. Ten million’s nothing for you.”

But Allison shook her head, her expression turning serious. “That account’s untouchable for now. I’m using that money to fuel the perfume company I started in Vrining and to expand into other ventures. I’ve already got a team managing things, and soon, the company’s going public.” Allison vividly recalled her mother’s offhand remark that her greatest dream was to create an international perfume brand.

If Allison could make that dream a reality, maybe—just maybe—her mother, wherever she was, would be proud. As for Ontdale, Allison had no intention of using foreign funds. She was determined to build something from scratch, setting up the main framework for her hacker network here. This city held too many unanswered questions about her mother’s disappearance, and she wasn’t ready to leave it behind.

Starting from nothing was just another challenge in her book.

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“I don’t get you,” Rebecca teased Allison, knowing she thrived on challenges. “I’ll go ahead and sign you up for the race.”

On Sunday, Allison returned to the Lloyd Mansion, ready to resume her ceramics lessons.

“Good morning,” she greeted as she stepped into the room, immediately noticing Lorna still tucked in the corner, like a shadow that refused to leave.

Lorna was holding the mold she had crafted the day before, her fingers tracing its edges absentmindedly. When she noticed Allison, her eyes flickered with curiosity, though she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to be caught in the act of observation.

“She hasn’t been this content in ages, and I owe that to you,” Kellan remarked softly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness as he observed Lorna’s subtle shift in demeanor.

Allison turned her gaze toward Kellan, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. The fiery kiss they’d shared the day before flashed through their minds.

As if by unspoken agreement, they both looked away, pretending that the memory hadn’t sparked between them.

“Shall we try something new today?” Allison knelt before Lorna, her hand gently brushing the girl’s hair in a gesture both comforting and encouraging. Lorna didn’t recoil; instead, her gaze lingered on Allison, confusion mingling with curiosity in her wide eyes.

“You did wonderfully yesterday, so let’s build on that,” Allison continued. To her surprise, Lorna gave a quick, eager nod.

This time, Allison gently took Lorna’s hand, guiding her through the process. The touch didn’t seem to bother Lorna, who became absorbed in her work, her concentration deep and unwavering.

Two hours passed, and by the end of the lesson, Lorna was fiddling contentedly with the small sculpture she had made, a quiet pride in her eyes.

From the hallway, Kellan’s voice called out, “Come eat.”

Allison glanced over her shoulder and suppressed a laugh.

Kellan stood in the doorway, wearing an apron, his fingertips smudged with oil.

The dining table was set with a spread that could have graced the pages of a culinary magazine. Among the dishes was a plate of tender vegetables, glistening in the light.

“These are from Mr. Welsh. I wasn’t sure what flavors you liked, so I kept it light,” Kellan said casually, though his tone betrayed the effort he had put in.

Allison had never imagined that Kellan would take the time to personally prepare a meal, let alone consider her preferences. With a teasing smile, she remarked, “Mr. Lloyd, stuck in a chair but still cooking? You really know how to keep people on their toes.”

“Just something simple,” Kellan responded, unfazed by her playful jab. However, the old butler standing nearby appeared to have seen a ghost.

The butler, who had practically raised Kellan, knew that in all those years, Kellan had rarely lifted a finger in the kitchen—especially not now, with his mobility restricted.

“What are you standing around for? Come join us,” Kellan said, catching the butler’s stunned expression. “We have Ms. Clarke to thank for this,” the butler chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Lorna, usually oblivious to the world around her, clutched her plate but made no move to serve herself.

“Here, try this,” Allison suggested gently, noticing Lorna’s subtle glances toward the various dishes. Whenever Lorna’s gaze lingered on one, Allison quietly served it to her.

Kellan watched the exchange in silence before clearing his throat. “About what we talked about last time — have you given any thought to joining Charisma Company, Ms. Clarke? I could offer you 30% of the shares.”

For most, 30% of a company as valuable as Charisma was an offer of monumental worth. But Kellan knew Allison’s value, and if she agreed, the potential for their future together would be limitless.

“I didn’t expect such a generous offer, Mr. Lloyd, but I’m afraid I’m not cut out for that kind of role. I’ve grown rather attached to my freedom,” Allison replied politely but firmly, turning down the offer. She was already juggling enough—her perfume business, not to mention getting ready to relaunch the hacker network in Ontdale. Until those projects settled, she couldn’t entertain anything else.

Kellan, though slightly disappointed, wasn’t surprised. He knew that Allison wasn’t someone who could be swayed by material gains.

“No problem. I respect your choice, Ms. Clarke,” he said.

“I appreciate your understanding, Mr. Lloyd,” Allison replied. Then, after a brief pause, she asked, “Do you happen to own a property near Muisvedo, Mr. Lloyd?”

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