Chapter 451

The night at the Hawthorne family manor had been peaceful. Yet, Alexander found himself stirring awake at the first light of dawn, disturbed by the commotion downstairs. He wasn’t usually an early riser, but in unfamiliar surroundings, he slept lightly.

The slightest noise could rouse him.

Pushing back the covers, he crossed the room to the window. The rain had finally ceased, and the front yard was clear of snow. Below, members of the Hawthorne family were already engaged in their morning training routine.

They jogged in the biting cold as if the chill didn’t faze them. The sight alone made Alexander feel a phantom warmth radiating from their disciplined movements.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

He opened the door to find Evelyn standing there, rubbing her eyes with a yawn. "You're awake already?"

"Just got up," he replied. "Give me a minute to freshen up, then we'll head down."

Evelyn nodded, though her drowsy expression betrayed her longing to crawl back into bed. But this wasn’t home, and sleep wouldn’t come easily here anyway.

Once ready, they descended the grand staircase. The manor buzzed with activity—housekeepers hurried about, preparing an elaborate breakfast. The Hawthornes' rigorous morning regimen demanded substantial fuel, and the staff worked efficiently to ensure everything was perfect by the time the family returned.

"You're early," Donovan remarked as he strode into the dining room, clad in a thin wool sweater after finishing his training.

Evelyn smiled faintly. "I used to wake up at this hour all the time." She glanced around. "Where’s Grandfather?"

Her grandfather, Reginald Hawthorne, had always been the first to rise. His discipline was unmatched, and no one dared to be late under his watch.

She asked because she intended to say goodbye before they left. Had she been away too long? Being back felt strange, almost unsettling.

With the snow gone, they needed to depart soon.

"Still asleep, perhaps," Donovan checked his watch. He read the question in her eyes before she voiced it. "Grandfather isn’t the same anymore. He struggles with sleep these days. His body can’t keep up with his old routine."

"Insomnia?" Evelyn’s brow furrowed. She had noticed the fatigue in Reginald’s eyes yesterday—the dullness where there had once been fire. But she hadn’t realized it was this severe.

Is age finally catching up to him?

"Let’s eat first," Donovan suggested, accepting a napkin from a housekeeper to wipe his hands. "You’re leaving today, aren’t you?"

Evelyn nodded. "The snow’s stopped, and we have matters to attend to. We thought—"

"Go whenever you’re ready. I’ll let Grandfather know when he wakes."

"No," Evelyn insisted. "I’ll wait to say goodbye myself."

Leaving without a word would weigh on her. Despite everything, this house still held warmth beneath its strict exterior. And now, seeing her grandfather’s declining health, she couldn’t just walk away.

"Suit yourself." Donovan finished cleaning his hands and took his seat at the table.

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Alexander before they joined him.

Breakfast passed in silence, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. Alexander remained quiet—Evelyn had warned him about the Hawthorne rule: no talking at the table.

At home, discipline reigned supreme. Outside these walls, the rules relaxed. But here, tradition held firm.