Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 155: Hope To Coexist

Chapter 155: Hope To Coexist

The next day, Arthur and Lydia arrived at the Glover mansion. The sprawling estate loomed before them, a fortress of power and history. They were escorted to the ornate drawing room reserved for guests, its opulence a reminder of the family’s legacy. But Lydia, ever the formidable princess, was not one to abide by rules she deemed unnecessary.

Without hesitation, she strode past the drawing room doors, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her posture was unyielding, her resolve clear. Arthur, ever her steady support, took her hand and walked with her.

There was an unspoken tension between them. The Glover mansion had a strict no-weapons policy, which should have offered some comfort, but Arthur remained alert. His promise to himself was unwavering—if trouble arose, he would protect Lydia at all costs.

He glanced at her as they walked. Beneath her steely exterior, he knew her heart was heavy. Lydia had kept her distance from her family, but the ties that bound her to them, especially to her father, were unbreakable. Despite everything, she loved Richard Glover deeply.

As they neared Richard’s room, Lydia paused, taking a deep breath. Two men stood guard at the door, their presence an obvious attempt to enforce the patriarch’s instructions. But Lydia’s determination was not so easily deterred.

"Mrs. Lydia," one of the guards began, his voice firm but uncertain, "Mr. Glover requested that no one—"

Before he could finish, Lydia surged forward, her heels striking the floor with purpose. The guards hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. No one in the Glover household dared to challenge the patriarch’s favorite daughter. They stepped aside just as Lydia reached the door.

With a sharp push, she flung the door open, the sound reverberating through the hallway. Arthur released her hand, stepping back with a quiet smile. He knew what was coming and wisely decided not to interfere.

"Daddy!" Lydia cried, rushing to the large bed where Richard sat propped up on pillows. Her voice was thick with emotion, her usually poised demeanor giving way to raw vulnerability. "Daddy, are you feeling better? You’ve lost so much weight!"

She threw her arms around his neck in a fierce hug, her worry pouring out in waves.

Richard, visibly startled, tried to push her back, but his movements were weak. "Lydia," he said, his voice gruff, "I specifically instructed—"

"Oh, Daddy," Lydia interrupted, her voice trembling as she kissed his cheek and hugged him again. "I was so scared. I couldn’t wait out there knowing you were here like this."

Arthur stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his lips. He knew there wasn’t a soul in the mansion, not even Richard Glover himself, who could rein in Lydia’s fierce will.

"What do the doctors say? Are you out of danger?" Lydia demanded, pulling back to examine her father’s face. Her hands rested gently on his shoulders, her eyes scanning him for any sign of improvement or decline.

Richard’s stern expression softened as he looked at her. For all his power and ruthlessness, he was defenseless against the concern radiating from his daughter.

"Where are his medical records?" Lydia snapped, turning her attention to the nurse standing nearby. "Bring them to me immediately. I need to see everything for myself."

The nurse hesitated, glancing at Richard for approval, but Lydia’s tone brooked no argument. She turned back to her father, her voice gentler now. "Daddy, are you taking your medications regularly? Is he?" She turned her sharp gaze to the nurse. "Are you making sure he’s taking them?"

Arthur stifled a chuckle, watching the scene unfold. Richard Glover, the feared and revered patriarch, was now at the mercy of his daughter’s relentless care.

The nurse hurried off to fetch the records, and Lydia began inspecting the room, adjusting pillows and ensuring everything was as it should be. Arthur admired her tenacity. She wasn’t just a daughter worried for her father; she was a force of nature determined to protect what she loved.

Outside the room, raised voices and the sound of hurried footsteps reached them. Arthur’s smile faded as he recognized the commotion. Philip.

The younger Glover must have heard that Lydia was with their father and had come to stake his claim. But Richard’s voice cut through the tension before Philip could reach the door.

"Do not let him in," Richard commanded the guards outside, his tone brooking no argument.

Lydia’s attention remained on her father, her focus unwavering even as the sounds of Philip’s protests grew louder outside.

Richard’s expression softened as he reached up, his frail hand brushing the back of his index finger against Lydia’s cheek. "So," he said, his voice tinged with both warmth and weariness, "you’ve found your daughter."

Lydia froze for a moment, her hands resting on the medical report she had been reviewing. Of course, her father already knew. There was nothing in his vast empire that escaped his notice. With a small nod, she steadied herself, her voice calm as she replied.

"I also heard she holds the time bomb that can destruct our family," Richard added, his tone sharpening just enough to hint at his concern.

Lydia met his gaze, unwavering. "She’s pregnant," she said, her voice dropping to a firm, measured tone. "Her husband is an assistant district attorney. They’re a young couple, very much in love."

Her deliberate emphasis on pregnant and love was not lost on him. It was a silent warning—a reminder that her father’s infamous machinations would not be tolerated where her daughter and son-in-law were concerned. Their love, their family, was not to be touched.

Father and daughter locked eyes, the tension between them palpable. Richard’s eyes narrowed for a moment, calculating as always, but then he relented with a nod. Lydia’s resolve was clear, her unyielding devotion to her family leaving no room for negotiation.

Richard’s expression grew serious. He leaned back slightly against his pillows, letting out a slow breath. "Now that you’ve seen I’m alive and well," he said with a hint of impatience, "what is it you want to ask next?"

Lydia smiled faintly, closing the report with a soft thud. "Nothing, Daddy," she said, standing gracefully. "I’ll wait in the drawing room as you instructed."

Richard scoffed, but the effort triggered a fit of coughing. Lydia immediately poured a glass of warm water from the carafe on the bedside table and handed it to him. He took it, but his piercing gaze never left her face.

"This meeting," Richard began after taking a sip, his voice quieter but no less commanding, "is about my last will and testament."

His hand trembled slightly as he set the glass down, but he reached for Lydia’s hand, gripping it with surprising strength. Lydia froze, her eyes wide, a flicker of alarm crossing her face.

"Don’t act surprised," Richard said with a faint smile, though his tone was firm. "Philip knows. That’s why he’s here—he wants to negotiate. But you..." His sharp gaze studied her. "What do you want, Lydia?"

Lydia hesitated, then turned her head to glance at Arthur. He stood silently at the edge of the room, his posture relaxed but his watchful eyes betraying his readiness. Her lips curved into a soft, genuine smile as her heart swelled. "I have everything I need right here," she said, her words laced with both affection and resolve.

Richard’s brows furrowed slightly, his mind working to decipher her response, but Lydia didn’t give him the chance.

"I came here to check on you," she continued, leaning in to kiss his cheek with a tenderness that only a daughter could offer. "The rest..." She stood, smoothing the front of her dress, and reached for Arthur’s hand. "We’ll deal with the rest together."

Her words were final, her stance unshakable. She didn’t care about the inheritance—Arthur’s success had already provided them with more than enough. What mattered to her was her father’s health and, perhaps, the faint hope of finding a way to coexist without further turmoil.