Sold to My Killer Husband: His Concubine's Dilemma
Chapter 56: Join us

Chapter 56: Join us

"Lucien..." A soft voice fell on Lucien’s ears.

Layla called for Lucien cheerfully, and it didn’t take long for his face to sour.

Although he had mentioned that Layla was a princess and should be treated accordingly, deep down, he still remembered that her father had been one of the strongest voices against his existence, adamant about ensuring Lucien received a death sentence.

Lucien’s eyes darted to Roseria’s door once again. Considering she might still be sleeping, he chose to ignore Layla, knowing that if he spoke now, he might say something she wouldn’t like.

Without another glance, Lucien strode away, heading straight for the kitchen—just like the night before yesterday when he had found that pumpkin soup, which had thoroughly irked him.

But to his surprise, the scene before him was... delightful.

Roseria was there, preparing food, with Rowan standing beside her, pointing at something she had placed on a tray. Beatrice stood on her left, smiling warmly.

Lucien walked toward them. The three who were present, along with the other staff working in the kitchen, heard footsteps and looked up, noticing that Lucien had entered the room. Ignoring everyone else, he went straight to his sister. His once-tight lips eased into a sly smile when Roseria’s eyes lit up.

"Brother..." She called out delightedly and ran toward him.

"Rosie..."

Lucien thought she was about to hug him, but she halted her steps at the last moment, seemingly remembering that he had just been bedridden. Rather than embracing him...which he had braced himself for...she instead asked with concern, "Why are you here?"

Lucien was stunned by Roseria’s disapproving pout and asked, "Why so, Rosie?"

"You were supposed to be in bed, you know! And yet, here you are," she huffed, crossing her arms in clear disapproval.

"I was too..." Lucien glanced at Rowan, who was mouthing something exaggeratedly.

"Ex-ci-te-d."

Rowan slowly shaped the word with his lips, trying to convey the message without speaking aloud.

Lucien rolled his eyes. "Chuck it."

Rowan’s shoulders slumped in disappointment at his wasted efforts.

"Why don’t you understand that you must..." Roseria grabbed Lucien’s wrist and attempted to pull him toward the hallway. "... Rest in your room! I was bringing my cooked dishes for..."

Her efforts were in vain. No matter how much she pulled, Lucien remained firmly in place, unmoving like a mountain.

"Wait, wait..." Lucien said, making his sister turn around and look up at him with her big green eyes. "Let’s have food in the dining hall."

Roseria blinked.

"Just like old times," Lucien continued, a rare warmth in his tone. "When I used to come back home from the borders, and..."

A soft voice from behind suddenly completed his sentence.

"Rosie, Lucien is right. Let’s have food together."

Layla walked into the kitchen, her expression bright with interest.

Lucien’s face twitched for a second.

Although he had eaten just an hour or so ago, he wanted to have a meal with his sister. That was all. But now...

"Roseria," Lucien called again, his voice gentle.

Roseria glanced at him, then at Layla, before finally uttering, "Okay."

Her voice carried a hint of excitement.

For Roseria, it was a happy day. Her mother wasn’t around to stop her from doing things she enjoyed, and, more importantly, she knew her brother wouldn’t halt her from being herself here.

Lucien watched his sister, his mind briefly drifting back to what Samuel had told him...about Beatrice reporting everything to Edgar. He knew she would do it again, informing his mother that he was getting better. And knowing his mother, she would call Roseria back the moment she heard.

It hadn’t been long since she had started keeping Roseria away from him.

"You go ahead, Rosie. I’ll follow in a minute," Lucien said with a smile.

Roseria nodded back before heading to the dining hall.

Lucien then turned to Layla.

She was standing there expectantly, certain that he would say something to her too.

But Lucien simply shifted his gaze away and turned around.

Layla’s face fell.

She had hoped that, even if he had ignored her before, he wouldn’t do the same again. It irked her, but she could keep trying. A week was enough to get his attention; this could be the start for them. Even if it was delusional, she liked being the girl she had been back when she first fell for Lucien, doing things to earn his attention.

With that thought, she went ahead with Roseria to the dining hall.

Meanwhile, Lucien, his expression once again returning to its usual sternness, walked up to Beatrice, who stood outside the kitchen with Rowan.

The old woman was looking down.

Lucien narrowed his eyes; it seemed Rowan had said something to her.

He turned to Rowan. "What did you tell her?"

Rowan crossed his arms and said, "I conveyed the message."

Lucien towered over Beatrice, his sharp gaze locking onto her as she hesitantly lifted her head, only to quickly avert her eyes.

"Did you tell them I was injured?" he asked, his tone controlled but firm.

Beatrice trembled slightly, her hands twitching as she fidgeted with her fingers. "Y-Yes, Master Lucien, but..."

Lucien remained silent, watching her closely.

"I did not..." She stuttered, unable to finish her words.

Lucien, keenly attuned to body language, caught her nervousness.

"For everyone outside this house, I am still injured," he ordered.

Beatrice nodded quickly. "But, Master, Princess Layla’s maids will be arriving soon. What if Edgar is among them?"

Lucien gave it a thought. That was possible.

"I’ll handle it," he assured her. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he gestured for Rowan to follow him.

They had barely taken a few steps toward the dining room when Mira appeared from the hallway, balancing a tray of food.

She needed to pass between them and Beatrice to head upstairs.

But before she could, Beatrice composed herself, stepping forward to block Mira’s path with her staff.

The stewardess glanced at the tray in Mira’s hands, her expression twisting into a frown.

"Where are you taking those plates?" she demanded, voice sharp with authority.

Mira instinctively moved the tray away from Beatrice’s grasp. "To my madam’s room," she answered.

Beatrice’s expression darkened.

"These dishes were prepared by Her Highness herself...for Master Lucien and the rest. Why would I allow you to take them to your madam?" Her voice hardened, and, without hesitation, she snatched the tray from Mira’s hands.

"Hey!" Mira protested, her voice rising.

Beatrice’s disapproval was clear. A mere girl eating Roseria’s cooking before her own brother had even tasted it? Unacceptable. More than that, Queen Dowager Lilian had explicitly ordered Liora to look after Lucien. And yet, instead of tending to him, she was hiding away in her room.

"Call your madam here. These are not for her," Beatrice declared.

Mira turned to Lucien and Rowan, her eyes pleading. She tried to keep her tone respectful, but urgency crept into her voice.

"But she is hungry. This was all prepared. She can’t wait that long."

"So what?" Beatrice arched a brow at Mira, as if Liora was anyone of importance.

From everything Beatrice had observed, from the Queen Dowager’s orders to the way Liora had been treated, it was clear what the girl was here for—to be bred by Lucien. It was the most crude way to put it, but that was the truth as she saw it.

Lucien sighed, turning back toward Mira. A single strand of his dark hair fell over his eyes, making his already stern expression even more striking.

"Why is it that your madam is not joining us?" His voice was calm but firm.

Mira and Beatrice both widened their eyes in surprise.

"Sir?" Mira hesitated.

"Did you not hear me? Call her down," Lucien ordered. "My sister is here for the first time, and that is all I want you to tell your madam. Call her."

The order left everyone stunned.

Lucien had never once acknowledged Liora’s presence, treating her like she didn’t exist. But now, he was asking for her to join him at the dining table?

Mira quickly nodded and left, still unsure of what had just happened.

But Beatrice wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. She followed Lucien, who was walking at a slower pace than usual.

"Master..." she called hesitantly.

Lucien didn’t stop. "Yes?"

"Liora must take care of you here, as per your mother’s order!" Beatrice pressed, though she softened her tone.

Lucien rubbed his chin, pretending to think for a moment before glancing briefly at Rowan.

"Tell Mother that I am still on bed rest," Lucien instructed. "And that woman will take care of me."

Beatrice stiffened. "But... Master..."

Lucien cut her off before she could argue.

"No buts, he murmured, bringing a finger to his lips. "Shh."

Beatrice’s voice died in her throat.

Rowan watched the exchange in silence, his sharp eyes observing Lucien’s unusual behavior.

Lucien hated Liora...or at least, that’s what he had made everyone believe.

So why was he suddenly calling her to his table?

Clearly, there was something on his mind.

Inside Liora’s room, her cheeks were covered with ointment again. Previously, she had asked Mira to apply it later because of its unpleasant smell. But when she came face to face with Lucien, she felt bad. Unusual, but bad.

Why would she care about someone who had no interest in her? Someone she barely knew? Yet, she didn’t like him seeing her with bruises. It felt embarrassing.

So she had asked Mira to apply the ointment and cover her face with a thin cotton layer. Now, thin cotton strips stuck to her cheeks.

Soon, Mira entered the room, having failed to keep the breakfast tray away from Beatrice. But she brought unexpected news.

"Master Lucien has asked you to join them downstairs for breakfast."

Liora, who had been resting her face on her knees, looked up at Mira, who nodded profusely.

"Why?"

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