240 Prologue: The Agreements

Standing beside a large window, Oliver Greenwood sighed.

His home office had cinnamon walls and furnishings. A stone fireplace simmered at the middle of the west wall. Bookshelves and trinkets filled up the opposite of it. The furniture color matched the room's color, varying in different shades. The mocha leather seats shined against the window.

Overall, it created a vintage ambiance.

The base of a teacup clattered against its saucer.

Cobalt eyes flickered towards it.

Oliver stared at the back of his wife's head. She chose the coach that faced away from him. She had dyed her spiky white hair into a black shade. It now blended in with the aesthetic of his home officer. The same thing happened with her maroon dress.

He wanted to tuck in the collar within his line of sight.

Unable to avoid it any longer, he pushed himself off the wall and proceeded to join her, "How was the school festival, dear?"

"Oh, it was lovely. I had a wonderful time," Jaime replied. She took another sip of her ginger tea, "Woodlands is such an outstanding school."

Her husband exhaled sharply.

He chose the armchair next to the coach. He spared the coffee table a glance. The small cream puffs he had bought were still complete. They had been untouched. Leaning forward, he laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his thighs.

Jaime focused on the aroma of the tea. She took a big whiff and let it ease her muscles. A small smile stretched on her lips. It had been brewed to her taste. Something her husband couldn't manage.

"Dear?" Oliver tried again.

"Yes?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"Yes? Oh, sorry." His wife covered her mouth at her mistake. Her gray eyes finally met his. She tilted her head to one side, "I was thinking about something else. What did you say again?"

Oliver felt a blow to his chest.

Had he truly done something for her to be this upset? Until today, he hadn't seen her for more than a week. She had moved to stay at their daughter-in-law's house. She had also completely cut contact with him during that time. If he hadn't called Hachi, he wouldn't have known where she went.

She had their entire household lock their lips.

"Dear…"

"Yes?" Jaime wiped off the crumbs on her fingers. She'd never pass to taste the madeleines baked by their head chef—even if her husband baited her with them.

"About the compensation…"

"The one where you basically ignored everyone and followed your own interest?"

Her husband flinched from her sharp tongue.

"How did Alex take it?" He decided to ask, "You saw her, didn't you?"

"She seemed unsurprised. I can vouch that I was more shocked." Jaime answered. She fluttered her lashes and stared at a spot on the wall, "Then again, it was either that or a minimum of 6 months in jail. I guess she thought it was already a good result."

She finished her response with a shrug. Then, she turned back to her tea. She had a fourth of it left and she intended to enjoy every last drop. The butter taste of the madeleine lingered on her tongue. It complimented the tea well in her opinion.

"But?"

"But what, Oliver?" Jaime snapped, glaring openly. She gripped the teacup tighter, "What do you expect me to say? You let that rotten woman free and for what? For our granddaughter to take the plunge?"

When she heard about the trial proceedings, she wished to break a vase. How could the Conary Family lighten the sentence of their stepdaughter? How could they also ask for compensation? That young woman had done more damage to Alex than the other way around.

Oliver squeezed his fingers.

He knew well how that young woman affected Alex's childhood. He also knew how sheltered his granddaughter's life had been since that day. He had accompanied her as much as he could. He always put her best interest first. If possible, he would shower her with it.

He had it all planned.

His wife placed the cup on its saucer and reached out for the teapot.

"Let me—"

Jaime snatched it quickly. She gave a sarcastic smile, "I can serve my own tea. Thank you."

Oliver shuddered. He decided to use a different approach, "Alex needs to learn the consequences of her own actions."

"And so you based it on your own interest?"

"Dear, you know why I agreed to it."

"Ah, tradition, tradition." His wife scorned with the wave of her hand, "It's the 21st century for heaven's sake. When will you learn that change is constant?"

"It's not against the law."

"And that you have an old debt to pay, hm?" She drained her new cup of tea and slammed it back on the saucer. Rising to her feet, she walked around the coffee table.

"I am through arguing with this, Oliver. The trial had ended. The sentences had been declared." Jaime said as she headed for the door. Her hand rested on the knob, "I don't care if you think it's harmless. I don't care if Alex broke the law. Rational or not, that doesn't mean I would want my granddaughter to bear any consequences. Be glad that she's sensible. Otherwise, I would be the first person to hurt you."

Who would be happy to hear that? That their granddaughter had to suffer because of someone else's doing? Alex had merely defended herself. She chose the way that could corner Skye. It would have been harder if they didn't have that evidence.

"I won't fight with you about this anymore but you can't expect me to not be upset." Jaime yanked the door open and left the room.

When it shut, the sound echoed inside. It rang inside Oliver's ears. He buried the lower half of his face against his clasped hands. It wasn't like he wanted Alex to suffer. He considered everything and chose what he thought would benefit her. His wife merely couldn't see it. It was the best thing to do for the long run.

Alex couldn't keep running away.

The door opened once more. A mop of dark brown hair came in. Leather shoes tapped on the floor, aiming for the second armrest. The newcomer sat on it. His steady gaze glided over the coffee table and its opposite end.

Without looking, Oliver knew who entered the office.

"Ethan."

"Father."

He removed his hands from his face. He let them drop to between his knees. His cobalt eyes met the indifferent expression on his son's face, "Are you also upset with me?"

Ethan thought carefully, "If it had been years ago, I would have completely sided with you."

"And now?"

"Now, I want my daughter to be free to choose whatever she wants," he voiced honestly. If he learned anything during his stay in Woodlands, it was that she was more than capable of making her own decisions. His protectiveness might have been holding her back from living her life.

She should be able to spread her wings. It should be them who would adjust to it.

"You know it's not that simple," Oliver groaned. He slammed his back against the chair and shielded his closed eyes, "She did break the law. When they presented a compromise, we had to grab before they could have asked for worse."

Considering how the sentence would have been imprisonment, what the defense offered was much lighter. Oliver had been reluctant for a bit. Then, he realized that it might be for the best. Alex would have to face high society sooner or later. This merely sped up the time.

"She's only turning 17 years old. She can worry about being an heiress after she graduated high school." Ethan defeinded. His fingers dug against the armrests, "You started grooming her when she was young. She understands better than anyone why you agreed to it. If she accepted it, there is nothing for me to protest."

"Our second agreement with the Conary Family still stands." His father clarified, "This matter doesn't change it."

"I know."

It was sly, Ethan remarked. Except, he wouldn't tell that to his father. The other parties had asked for it since it benefited them—especially since the second agreement had been established. It revised the first agreement which they hadn't been happy about.

They just wanted to increase their chances and used the trial to achieve it.

He grabbed a madeleine from the table, saying, "Don't worry too much about mother. She will move on about this topic within time. You just have to do the same."

"I hope you are right," Oliver sighed, unshielding his eyes. He instantly noticed the missing madeleine on the table. The cream puffs were still untouched. He chuckled to himself.

Like mother, like son.