It's Your Turn To Cry and Beg, Dear Uncle
Chapter 51: Suspicion

Chapter 51: Suspicion

Half an hour ago.

Creighton was sipping his tea, accompanied by the sound of classical music, in a glasshouse decorated to resemble a private garden when he sensed someone’s presence.

His brows immediately furrowed, because a disturbance at this hour only meant that there was something important that needed his attention. Otherwise, no one would dare disturb his tea time.

The older he got, the more particular this old man became about his rest. He demanded peace and forbade interruptions, especially during his meditation, morning exercise, and tea times.

Clicking his tongue in mild annoyance, the old man asked sharply, "There better be a good reason why you couldn’t wait until I finished my afternoon tea."

Instead of being offended, Head Butler Roman chuckled softly at his former master. The old man hadn’t changed, Roman thought.

To those who knew the family well, Roman might seem more like a close friend than a former servant to Creighton. From a young age, Creighton had been subjected to strict discipline by his father, which made his childhood vastly different from that of other children his age.

Starting early, Creighton was expected to master subjects designed for children three to four years older. He was pushed to learn faster and excel as if he were a machine meant to absorb all the knowledge presented to him. The training was harsh, especially when physical exercises began at the age of 13. Nevertheless, he was taught to never know the word tired.

Ultimately, Creighton survived these grueling sessions with blood and sweat, only to face greater challenges. At 15, he was formally inducted into military training and entered the battlefield at 17.

While the mental and physical strain was eventually rewarded, Creighton couldn’t have endured it all without Roman, who was always ready to support him. For this reason, Creighton considered Roman more than just the head servant of his household; he saw him as a comrade in arms.

"You’ve become quite fussy, Old Man," Roman teased with a laugh. He stopped beside Creighton, folding his hands behind his back.

His gaze fell on the beautifully made waterfall that flowed into a koi pond. The sound of the water rippling was quite serene amidst the growing plants and the singing of birds. This spot had always been Creighton’s favorite because it was where his mother spent most of her time in the past.

To this day, every corner of the space remains unchanged, from the types of flowers to the rusted gardening tools left exactly where his mother had placed them. The only additions were the waterfall and koi pond he had installed for his wife.

Creighton clicked his tongue dismissively before elegantly sipping his tea again. Even in old age, the aristocratic mannerisms were still evident in every move he made.

"Of course! I didn’t work myself to the bone in the past just to have a miserable retired life. Naturally, I should enjoy it now! Who cares if people call me fussy," Creighton declared arrogantly, without a hint of shame in his tone, as if his behavior was entirely justified.

Then, Creighton glanced at his friend and scoffed. "You should retire too. Why insist on taking care of my grandson? Know your limits, watch your age!"

Roman burst into hearty laughter instead. He shot a sly glance at his friend, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I’m well aware of my age, which happens to be five years younger than yours. I’m also aware that this body of mine is fitter than yours. That’s precisely why I have to share your burden in managing the household—so you can sit and sip tea all day!"

Creighton nearly choked on his tea at Roman’s unfiltered remarks. He slammed his cup down with a loud bang.

"Are you trying to say I’m old and lazy?" Creighton asked sharply, his piercing gaze radiating a menacing aura. But instead of being intimidated, Roman laughed at him again.

"Don’t glare at me, or your eyes might strain. Remember your age, Old Man!" Roman retorted, throwing Creighton’s earlier words back at him.

In the end, Creighton was left speechless. Though experience often comes with age, it’s the sharp mind that triumphs. Defeated, Creighton grumbled but didn’t reprimand Roman in the slightest. Seeing Creighton’s childish reaction, the corners of Roman’s lips curled up. A nostalgic smile spread across his aged face.

"I hope you can find peace in your old age," Roman suddenly said. Creighton, puzzled, furrowed his brows and looked at Roman with questioning eyes.

"What do you mean?"

With a deep sigh, Roman suggested, "It’s no longer our time to interfere with the matters of the young. Even though we’re more experienced, times have changed as we’ve aged. There are some things we can’t judge with our old knowledge."

The furrow in Creighton’s brow deepened. His gaze toward Roman grew even more unfriendly. Creighton wasn’t the typical slow-thinking elder; he could easily decipher the hidden meaning behind Roman’s words.

One mustn’t forget Roman’s position as the Synders Family’s head butler. His job required him to keep his eyes and ears open to the conditions around him, both within the household and beyond. He had to stay on top of every move made by those connected to the family he served.

It was no surprise that Roman was fully aware of Creighton’s investigations and surveillance over his own grandson, James. The question now was, whose side would he ultimately take?

Raising an eyebrow, Creighton spoke with a ruthless gaze. "I hope you understand my decision, but it seems you’re more inclined to side with your new master. Remember who you swore loyalty to first!"

Roman glanced briefly at the man before looking ahead with indifference. "This isn’t about loyalty or anything like that. It’s about seeing the situation more objectively."

"Objectively?" Creighton scoffed. "More like subjectively, judging by your behavior lately. The older you get, the softer your heart becomes, Roman. Regardless, I won’t agree—this is indecent behavior!"

Creighton’s voice rose several octaves by the end of his sentence. Roman could only let out a long sigh. He didn’t want to argue further, knowing well his former master’s nature.

Creighton was as stubborn as James—perhaps a hereditary trait. Strangely, James’s father wasn’t like that; Victor was a more critical thinker and open to others’ opinions. Roman had once wondered if Victor was truly Creighton’s son. As for Vincent, there was no doubt; James’s uncle was just as hard-headed as Creighton.

"Suit yourself, then. I won’t say more. I only hope you don’t act rashly and end up regretting it. In the end, as parents, a child’s happiness is what matters most," Roman emphasized once more.

He was still trying to influence Creighton’s thoughts to some extent. Perhaps it was true that his loyalty had shifted more toward James. But Roman’s judgment on this matter wasn’t as a butler; it was as someone who had long cared for James and Kyra. He could understand where these feelings stemmed from. There was nothing inherently wrong here—it was simply a matter of fate.

Creighton snorted again. "You don’t need to keep defending that boy. I know what I’m doing. This is what’s best for him."

Then Creighton shot a sharp look at Roman, his tone slightly annoyed as he asked, "Don’t tell me you interrupted my tea time just to reprimand me about this?" His tone was already unpleasant, a testament to how peculiar his temperaments become with age.

Roman chuckled dryly. "Of course not! Do you think I have nothing better to do? I just thought I’d let you know since I recently heard that Miss Kyra can be discharged tomorrow. James informed me that he’s taking care of the procedures today and will pick her up tomorrow."

"What?!" Creighton shot up from his chair, his face reddening slightly with sudden anger. It was certainly not because he was pleased Kyra was coming home, but because James had presumptuously made the decision.

The old man massaged his temples. "I already warned him. Why does he still insist?"

Roman raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. "Can’t you stop jumping to conclusions? Maybe he simply wants to take care of Kyra’s return. Wouldn’t it be strange if he suddenly didn’t care?"

"Isn’t it even stranger if he suddenly starts caring after they’ve been at odds lately?" Creighton countered Roman.

Roman pressed his lips together and let out a long sigh. "So, you’d rather they stay at odds than reconcile?"

Creighton was stunned and couldn’t find the words to respond to the butler. He didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps, deep down, there was a small part of him that hoped for just that. If they continued to clash, wouldn’t it make it easier for him to keep the two of them apart?

However, Creighton couldn’t admit it because he didn’t want to be seen as the villain. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Enough. I didn’t say that, did I? I just want them to keep their distance!"

Yes, that was all he wanted—or so he told himself. However, knowing that the two clearly had feelings for each other made it hard for Creighton to assess the situation without suspecting them.

The moment he heard a strange sound behind the VIP room door, a sense of foreboding swept over him, and he felt an urge to burst in. But, his wife had stopped him. Even so, Creighton seized the next moment to act. Without waiting for Kyra’s response, he pushed the door open.

His sharp eyes immediately spotted his grandson sitting calmly in a neat business suit by Kyra’s bedside. Kyra herself lay tucked under a blanket, partially covering the lower half of her face. Her eyes curved into a smile as she greeted them.

"Grandpa, Grandma! You’re here!" she exclaimed, showing no signs of anything unusual, though her heart raced faster than a galloping horse.

Creighton narrowed his eyes, while Jane rushed into Kyra’s arms. "Oh, my dear granddaughter! Finally, you’re well enough to come home. All that effort I put into cooking nutritious meals every day wasn’t in vain."

Jane then released Kyra and lifted the lunch bag she had brought. "Look, I brought you more of the steamed chicken you liked yesterday. Come, eat it while it’s still warm."

Kyra froze. She had been so excited about her boyfriend’s visit that she’d forgotten to inform her grandmother. Awkwardly, she lifted herself into a sitting position and smiled.

"Really? Hmm... it smells wonderful. Let’s eat it together, Grandma!" Kyra said.

But James interjected from the side, "I already got Kyra sushi, Grandma. She said earlier that she was craving it."

Of course, James now sided with his girlfriend, and Creighton didn’t miss this detail. The old man also immediately noticed the subtle changes in Kyra’s expression as she emerged from under the blanket.

Her cheeks were flushed like a young girl in love. Her eyes sparkled with an inexplicable joy, as though she’d just won the lottery. Most telling of all were Kyra’s lips, redder and fuller than usual.

Creighton’s eyes narrowed instinctively as he alternated his gaze between Kyra and James.

Could it be that he had already slipped up and his two grandchildren were now in a relationship?

He pressed his lips together, his heart pounding with unease. However, it wasn’t the right place to confront them. His wife was present, and the setting wasn’t appropriate. In the end, Creighton could only swallow his complicated feelings while his eyes continued to look at Kyra and James.

Feeling the persistent gaze, James eventually looked back at his grandfather. Unbeknownst to the two women beside them, the tension between their gazes was palpable, like the smell of gunpowder before an explosion.