"Look what you've done! Is this how you repay your mother after everything she's done for you?" Roger's voice thundered as he pointed a finger at Dexie. Her casual, unbothered expression only fueled his anger.
Dexie lazily met his gaze, completely unfazed.
"I didn't ask her or Regina to repay me for everything I've spent on them these past twelve years," she replied coolly. "So, Dad… how exactly do you expect me to repay you?"
Her eyes drifted to Susan and Regina, a mocking smile curving her lips.
"Poor Regina looks so pitiful… Aren't you afraid my 'repayment' might be exactly what she deserves?"
"Dexie Winston!" Roger roared, his fury boiling over. His hand shot back, ready to slap her across the face.
But just as his palm hovered mid-air, a deep, authoritative voice cut through the room.
"What's going on here?"
The voice wasn't loud, but the weight behind it was enough to freeze everyone in place.
Roger's raised hand stopped immediately.
Luke was standing in the doorway, led in by the servants, dressed in a sharp gray suit. His expression unreadable, yet his quiet authority pressed down on the entire room.
Though his tone had been casual, the atmosphere shifted in an instant.
Roger, despite being head of the Winston family and Luke's father-in-law, lowered his hand quickly, forcing a strained smile onto his face.
"Luke, what brings you here?"
Luke didn't answer right away. He stepped further into the living room, his sharp eyes scanning the scene before settling on Dexie.
Two days apart, and somehow, she looked… different. Her expression colder. Her eyes sharper. Something had shifted, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
It was also obvious now—the so-called 'perfect family' Dexie came from was nothing but a facade.
"I heard Dexie came home," Luke finally replied, his voice calm but layered with quiet meaning.
He wasn't here to mediate their little family drama. But seeing Dexie like this—cool, distant, untouchable—it scraped at something inside him.
Dexie arched a brow, a faint smirk touching her lips.
So you came to my house… willingly? The last time, you only came because Grandpa Huxley Dawson dragged you here. But now… you came on your own?
How interesting.
Luke ignored the amusement glinting in her eyes.
He turned to Roger, his tone deliberately casual.
"I just walked in and saw you were about to hit her. What exactly did she do to deserve that?"
Roger's face darkened, his anger still simmering. But before he could speak, Susan quickly stepped in, her expression soft, her voice dripping with concern.
"Let it go, Roger," she urged gently, placing a hand on his arm. "It's nothing serious. Let's not ruin the mood over a little argument."
The more composed and understanding Susan acted, the more Roger adored her—and the more his resentment toward Dexie brewed beneath the surface.
But Luke wasn't fooled.
Susan's well-rehearsed performance only made his curiosity burn deeper.
His sharp gaze lingered on her, then slid back to Dexie, who stood silently, her eyes cool and distant—the familiar warmth gone entirely.
For the first time, Luke had to admit… maybe he didn't know Dexie as well as he thought.
And that realization irritated him far more than it should.
If Luke had known earlier that Susan was nothing more than a vicious dog hiding behind a mask of gentleness, he would've despised her long ago.
But from the outside, she played the role well—the sacrificing stepmother with a delicate, obedient daughter like Regina. It was easy to fall for the act.
Susan's game was simple: act pitiful, paint Dexie as spoiled, and slowly ease Regina into the Huxley Dawson family's good graces.
"Sue, stop spoiling her. You give her an inch, she takes a mile," Roger snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "It's bad enough she acts like this here… What if she embarrasses the family outside? She's married into the Huxley Dawson family now. It reflects on all of us."
"Ouch."
Dexie's lips curled into a cold smirk, her eyes full of mockery.
Blame her for 'disgracing the family' when their reputation was already rotten, just covered in expensive suits and fake smiles.
If only he knew… the divorce papers were practically signed. Would he still stand there, playing the loving father?
Over the years, Dexie realized Roger had missed his calling. With acting skills like that, he could've won awards by now.
She took a slow sip of coffee the servant handed her, completely unbothered.
Across from her, Luke watched in silence, his sharp eyes fixed on her. His expression unreadable—but the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. He made no effort to interrupt the performance.
"Let it go, Roger." Susan chimed in sweetly, shooting Dexie an affectionate glance that barely masked her smugness. "We're all family… Dexie's still young."
But the slip of her eyes toward Luke gave her away—the quiet arrogance there said it all. In her mind, Dexie's days as Mrs. Huxley Dawson were already over. Without old Major Huxley Dawson to restrain him, Luke was free to throw Dexie away.
Susan's words dripped with double meaning.
Calling Dexie "young," implying she was immature and unfit for marriage, while conveniently ignoring the fact her own daughter, Regina, was even younger, yet always praised as obedient and sensible.
Right on cue, Roger added with a grunt, "She's twenty already. Regina's younger, but look how much better behaved she is."
Susan gave Dexie a helpless, apologetic look, as if saying, I tried to defend you, all while hiding her satisfaction beneath false concern.
Dexie didn't even bother rolling her eyes. She stirred her coffee lazily, the soft clink of the spoon filling the silence.
Roger, oblivious to her disinterest, turned to Luke, with exaggerated frustration in his voice.
"You saw it for yourself, Luke… this attitude of hers."
"She said that?" Luke's tone was calm, but a slight furrow of his brow betrayed a flicker of displeasure.
The room shifted instantly.
Susan's eyes glittered with satisfaction. Roger straightened with self-righteous pride. Even Regina, playing the fragile flower, lowered her head, biting her lip in false grievance.
They thought they'd played the scene perfectly, turning Dexie into the villain.
But Dexie? She sat quietly, sipping her coffee, watching them stumble through their little show like bored audience at a bad play.
What they didn't notice… was Luke's gaze, lingering on Dexie longer than it should've, the faintest crease between his brows deepening—not at her—but at them.