Chapter 8 The Study

Chelsey followed the butler's lead into Kaden's study.

"Mr. Morris, Miss Howard is here," the butler announced, standing tall and proper at the door.

It was pushing nine o'clock, and Kaden, still wide awake, was engrossed in his handwriting practice.

"Hmm." With a pen in hand, Kaden scribbled away on the paper, not bothering to turn around. "Come in."

This marked Chelsey's first visit to Kaden's study. The first thing that caught her eye was the towering bookshelves that seemed to stretch into infinity, creating the illusion of being in a grand library.

Rumor had it that Kaden's late wife hailed from a family steeped in literature, hence the vast collection of books that adorned the shelves.

The somber, weighty bookcases cast long shadows, as though some unseen force gripped Chelsey's very being.

Quickly averting her gaze, Chelsey attempted to appear composed as she stood in silence, waiting for Kaden's acknowledgment.

"Grandpa."

Kaden removed his reading glasses, sparing her a cursory glance before returning to his writing. "Come take a look at how my writing is shaping up."

Chelsey obliged, approaching him cautiously.

Kaden's handwriting was nothing short of exemplary.

Each stroke held immense value, sought after by many.

It wasn't merely flattery; his script possessed a commanding elegance and grace.

On the pristine rice paper, his words leapt off the page with vigor.

It read, "Everyone should know their own place."

Chelsey lowered her gaze.

"Well, what do you think?" Kaden inquired, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Chelsey nodded, offering him a warm smile. "Grandpa, your writing is exquisite, and the sentiment profound."

A flicker of surprise danced in Kaden's eyes.

He hadn't paid much heed to Chelsey in the past. After all, she wasn't his flesh and blood, having moved to the Morris Mansion at the tender age of eight. Their bond was tenuous at best, and Kaden remained largely ignorant of her.

Yet here she was, displaying a keen understanding of his subtle cues.

"I'm pleased you grasp the significance. The reputation of our family, built over a century, mustn't be tarnished by such trifles," Kaden reminded her, his tone softer than before.

Chelsey knew exactly what he was alluding to-the incident involving gifts from Yosef. Neither did she deny accepting these gifts, nor did she expose Gabriella.

Kaden harbored a disdain toward both her and Gabriella, particularly the latter. If he were to discover that Gabriella had kept the bag, it wouldn't end with a mere admonishment!

Such scandal could lead to Gabriella's expulsion from the Morris family, a fate that would undoubtedly spell doom for her.

"What are your thoughts on Tre's actions?" Kaden resumed, his gaze fixed on the paper as if in passing conversation.

But Chelsey's heart raced, her nerves on edge as she struggled to maintain her composure. "He's defending the honor of our family and lending me a helping hand in my time of need. I'm truly grateful."

A hint of a smile tugged at Kaden's lips as he handed her the brush. "I seem to recall you practicing your handwriting before. It's been a while, hasn't it? Why not give it a whirl?"

With the pen now in her hands, refusal wasn't an option.

Though it had been ages since Chelsey was focused on her handwriting practice. Her previous efforts weren't in vain. While her penmanship paled in comparison to Kaden's, it still held its charm.

As she traced the characters on the paper, each stroke felt deliberate and purposeful.

"Your handwriting..." Kaden paused, his finger tracing over her words. "It bears a striking resemblance to Tre's."

His gaze bore into Chelsey's, seemingly piercing through her façade.

Chelsey felt a chill run down her spine, realizing the gravity of her predicament.

Since middle school, she had been mimicking Trevor's handwriting. And even after all these years, the memory remained ingrained in her mind like a well-worn path. At the slightest touch, it came flooding back.

Kaden's finger tapped lightly, and Chelsey broke out in a cold sweat.

At that precise moment, a knock came from the study door.

Trevor, with an air of nonchalance, swung the door open, casting a casual glance over Chelsey before fixing his gaze on Kaden. "Grandpa, so you're in the study."

Kaden, slipping off his glasses, inquired, "What's the matter?"

Trevor, loosening the top button of his shirt, strolled closer. "Why are you burning the midnight oil, Grandpa?"

Chelsey felt her tense fingers slowly unclench, but her heart raced nonetheless.

"Trevor," she called out softly.

Kaden, pointing at her with his glasses, remarked, "I just had a chat with Chelsey here. And you? I thought you were off for the night."

"Couldn't reach Javier on the phone. Needed to have a word with him," Trevor explained.

Trevor walked over to the desk, casually skimming over the words on the paper.

"His surgery didn't go well, and he's in a funk. Doubt he'll be back anytime soon." Kaden frowned, the weight of worry settling on him.

Chelsey's surprise was evident as she looked at Kaden. How could this have happened?

Javier Morris, Kaden's eldest grandson, had been groomed as the heir, excelling from his youth.

But fate dealt him a cruel blow at eighteen with a car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down, his once bright future dimmed.

From prosperity to decline, Javier had long lost his former pride.

It was only two years ago that he decided to seek treatment abroad, hoping for a better outcome.

Chelsey had shared a close bond with him.

Learning that his surgery failed gnawed at her. No wonder he hadn't responded to her messages.

Trevor's brows furrowed slightly. "Is he doing okay now?"

"It's natural for him to be down for a bit. Best not to disturb him." Kaden settled into his chair with a sigh.

Chelsey, catching sight of Trevor's hand resting on the table, couldn't help but notice its elegance-long fingers with distinct joints.

These hands, once so gentle with her, now belonged to someone else.

She remembered the engagement ring adorning Aimee's finger, a silent reminder of what she had lost.

Forcing herself to look away, she addressed Kaden, "If there's nothing else, Grandpa, I'll head out."

Kaden simply waved her off.

As she left, closing the door behind her with a gentle click, she heard Kaden instruct Trevor, "Since you're here, no need for a separate call. Aimee is trying on her engagement dress the day after tomorrow. Make sure to spare some time for her."

Chelsey's steps slowed momentarily before she continued on her way.

As the door closed, she heard Trevor responding with a simple "Okay."

Standing at the door, her shadow elongated across the floor, she hesitated.

It wasn't until the butler appeared from the staircase that she finally left.

Her car hadn't arrived yet, leaving her without transportation.

She considered calling Lyric for a ride when she spotted Killian near the entrance.

"Miss Howard, Mr. Morris asked you to wait in the car," he informed her.

Trevor's ride was parked beneath a tree whose name eluded her, its branches providing shade even in autumn. Over time, it had become Trevor's designated parking spot.

Without much thought, Chelsey replied, "No need. Someone else is picking me up."

"You mean Mr. Osborn?" Killian inquired, his smile knowing.

Before Chelsey could respond, he continued, "Mr. Osborn was called in for additional training last minute. He won't be available."

Chelsey's heart sank at the news. "I'll take a cab," she said.

Killian seemed to see through her facade. "Miss Howard, you know Mr. Morris' temperament. No matter what excuses you give, it won't make a difference."

Chelsey didn't want to engage further. As she moved to leave, Killian refrained from touching her. But as she took a few steps, she felt a familiar grip on her wrist, a touch that sent shivers down her spine.

Turning suddenly, she found herself locking eyes with Trevor, his gaze cold!