Chapter 453

Reginald Hawthorne let out a weary sigh. "What nonsense are you talking about? Who told you I can't sleep? Don't listen to Donovan Pierce's ridiculous stories!"

Evelyn Carter saw right through his denial. After decades of being the unshakable pillar of the Hawthorne family, he would never admit that time was wearing him down. That his body wasn't as strong as it used to be.

But she understood his pride. Instead of challenging him, she played along. "I know you choose to stay awake, but didn't you always drill into us how crucial rest is for martial artists? You said our bodies need recovery time." She tilted her head. "Yet here you are, breaking your own rules."

To her astonishment, Reginald chuckled—a rare sound from the stern patriarch. After a beat, his expression softened. "You still remember my lessons?"

"Every word." How could she forget? Those teachings were etched into her bones. She could recite them in her sleep.

"Then you must remember the punishments too," Reginald said quietly.

Evelyn's fingers twitched. Those memories were branded into her—the very reason she'd once fled this gilded cage.

Back then, all she could think was how suffocating life was under the Hawthorne roof. She never imagined the outside world could be crueler. The discipline she'd resented had been armor she didn't realize she'd needed.

When she didn't answer, Reginald patted her hand—an awkward gesture from a man more accustomed to giving orders than comfort. "I was too harsh with you," he admitted gruffly. "But I don't regret it. I'm just... glad you're home."

The words cost him. Evelyn hadn't expected an apology, yet hearing it dissolved the last remnants of her resentment.

Looking back, every Hawthorne was raised this way. No special treatment for being female—but no extra burdens either. The family's survival demanded this rigor. Without it, how could they withstand the vipers constantly circling their power?

Now she understood—Dominic Reeves had been the wedge between her and her family. She'd stayed away out of pride, determined to prove herself before returning in triumph. She'd dreamed of making Reginald accept Dominic.

How wrong she'd been.

Sitting here now, the past felt like fog clearing. That simple pat on her hand was more healing than any grand gesture.

"Grandfather." The word slipped out before she could stop it. Then, shocking them both, Evelyn leaned into his embrace. "I'm sorry."

Reginald stiffened. In decades of fatherhood and grandfatherhood, no one had dared such intimacy. His children and disciples treated him with fearful respect, scattering like startled birds at his approach.

Yet instead of pushing her away, he hesitated—then carefully rested a hand on her back. The motion was stiff, unpracticed. Like relearning a forgotten language.

"Foolish girl," he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite. For the first time in years, the mighty Reginald Hawthorne remembered what it felt like to simply be family.