The Windfalls of Love (Roxanne and Harrison)

Chapter 320

In the days following his surgery, Dominic's vision was clouded, his optic nerves pressured into

darkness.

He couldn't see a thing.

It wasn't just the indignity of needing assistance for trips to the bathroom; even the simple acts of

eating and dressing were in the hands of the caregiver named Eve.

He should have known it was Everlyn.

No wonder he'd felt that "Eve's" voice sounded off, always speaking with a strained whisper.

It was Evelyn, disguising her voice so he wouldn't recognize her.

Dominic wasn't sure whether to be grateful or irate.

But this wasn't the time for anger, nor was it the moment for gratitude.

Because he was still undressed.

He hurriedly found some clothes and retreated to the bathroom to change. When he came out, Evelyn

was waiting for him in the room.

Their gazes locked.

His face was stern, devoid of any smile. "Did you do this on purpose?"

"Yes, I did it on purpose."

The unpleasantness of the previous night had already faded from Evelyn's memory.

With a playful smile, she teased Dominic, her fingers gently lifting his chiseled chin, finding amusement

in his discomfort.

Dominic was undeniably handsome.

The surgery had left him with a shaved head, and though his hair had started to grow back, it was still

barely longer than a buzz cut. This style only accentuated his sharp, gentle features.

Even without a smile, he exuded the charisma of a refined gentleman, his face radiating kindness and

warmth.

So even when Dominic rarely returned her smiles, Evelyn never felt a chill from him.

She admired him openly. "Dominic, am I the only woman in the world who has seen you in all your

glory? Don't be so upset. After all, it's my responsibility since I've seen everything."

Dominic pushed her wandering hand away from his chin. "I don't need you to take responsibility. Just

tell me how you want to be thanked for looking after me. And no, marrying you is not an option."

"Who said anything about making you marry me? I'm the one who wants to marry you," Evelyn

retorted, unbothered by his cold remarks.

She seemed immune to his barbs.

Leaning close to his ear, she whispered something playful and suggestive, causing Dominic's face to

flush with embarrassment.

She stepped back, laughing heartily at his reaction. "Dominic, you're such a prude," she teased, her

affection for him growing.

Actually, her words hadn't been all that provocative—simply a compliment on his attractive appearance,

with a playful double entendre about his stature.

Despite feeling mocked, Dominic tried to seem unruffled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I never

would've guessed that President Miller, of Seraphim Haven's wealthiest, could be so superficial."

With a huff, he turned away.

Evelyn just smiled wider. "Yes, I'd rather be a rich, shallow, lustful woman than the domineering CEO

forced to wear a mask every day. If only I weren't pushed into it, who would want to bear the burden of

family business? I'd much rather be an ordinary girl cherished by a man."

She sighed, almost as if she could write a book of woes.

Evelyn had never wanted to be a CEO; she had taken up the family mantle out of necessity, making

even dating a challenge.

"Let's not dwell on the fact that I've seen you naked. After all, it was bound to happen sooner or later,"

she said, grabbing Dominic's hand. "Come on, let's have breakfast. You drank last night; I bet your

stomach is upset. I made you some nourishing soup."

She practically dragged him downstairs to the dining table, where the soup was ready and the side

dishes were prepared by her own hand.

She pushed Dominic into a seat. "Don't be so grumpy. Eat your breakfast, then I have to go to an

important interview. It airs tonight on the local economic channel at eight. Don't forget to watch it." Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Meanwhile, at the Rodriguez Villa.

In the transparent kitchen with its 270-degree panoramic windows, Vincent and the nutritionist were

preparing the morning's breakfast.

Seeing his early-rising son Harrison approach, Vincent dismissed the nutritionist and asked,

"Roxanne's still asleep, isn't she?"

Harrison nodded and walked over. "Dad, you haven't been sleeping well either. Why don't you get

some more rest?"

"I don't need much sleep at my age," Vincent replied, rinsing soybeans and nuts for the soy milk, then

turned to his son. "Actually, I need to talk to you about something."

Harrison listened attentively as he assisted his father with the preparations.

Vincent glanced at him sidelong. "Grab that bowl for the beans."

Handing the bowl to his father, Harrison heard Vincent continue, "We have servants, so you don't

usually do this kind of work. But if Roxanne comes into the kitchen, you need to be by her side, helping

her. Learn to do things for her. Be gentle and considerate. Roxanne enjoys a cozy life."

"I understand, Dad," Harrison said, helping out.

Vincent kept busy as he spoke. "Also, about having a second child."

But before he could finish, Harrison quickly stated his position. "Dad, I've decided against having

Roxanne go through another pregnancy."

The birth of Angela had nearly cost Roxanne her life. Both the mother and daughter had narrowly

escaped death.

He couldn't bear to put Roxanne through that ordeal again.

"One child is enough for me."

Vincent agreed. "That's what I think too. Don't let Roxanne get pregnant again. Be careful."

Harrison suddenly felt a surge of gratitude. "Dad, thank you for being so understanding."

As the paramount family of Seraphim Haven, it was expected to marry someone of equal social status

and to have sons to continue the legacy.

Yet, his father had never pressured him on these matters.

Surrounded by people drawn to their power and wealth, they often missed out on genuine affection.

But in this moment, Harrison felt the rare warmth of his father's support.

Vincent had always been a man of tradition, a pillar in a world where high society's conventions ruled

supreme. Yet, for Harrison to grasp the true essence of life's warmth, he cast aside those antiquated

notions and supported his relationship with Roxanne, a girl from the other side of the tracks.

The lengths Vincent went to for the sake of their union were nothing short of Herculean.

This time, Harrison truly understood the depths of Vincenta's thoughtful efforts.

In the kitchen, Vincent was blending a smoothie, a mix of soy milk and carefully selected nuts.

"Harrison," he said with a gentle authority, "this time around, you've got to cherish Roxanne. Put

yourself in her shoes, think about what she needs, and learn to understand her. Live a good life

together."

The weight of Vincent's love was something Harrison felt more acutely with each passing moment.

He watched as Vincent pressed the button on the blender, his movements not as swift as they were

back in his golfing days.

Observing Vincent quietly, Harrison noticed the changes.

It wasn't long ago that Vincent had dyed his hair, a vain attempt to reclaim the vigor of youth.

But now, the roots at his temples were silver once more, betraying the passage of time.

In Harrison's memory, Vincent was always the spry elder, full of pep and vigor.

How had time managed to paint him with such strokes of age so quickly?