The night was deep, and the vintage-style streetlights in front of the Leclair mansion emitted a hazy amber glow.
Ignatius Leclair stood beneath the towering sycamore tree at the entrance, his gaze lingering on the carefree smile that graced Delphine's delicate face. His eyes flickered slightly—when she was with Leah, she seemed happy, comfortable, and trustful of the other.
Such an intimate bond, impermeable to outsiders, deepened the shadows in Ignatius Leclair's expression.
Standing in the night, the man spoke coldly and distantly, "Delphine, it's time to go back."
When he saw the smile on her face stiffen abruptly, then vanish, replaced by her usual indifferent, emotionless expression, he sneered coldly.
Leah heard him and turned, casting a sidelong glance at Ignatius Leclair, muttering under her breath, "Hypocritical scoundrel."
