The Contracted Ever After (Cordelia and Ronan)

Chapter 543

“What’s the big secret you can’t tell in front of the kid?” Ronan asked with a mischievous grin.

“There was this old man who came to see me at school today,” Cordelia began, biting her lip with a hint

of anxiety. “He told me something... something I think you need to hear.”

Ronan perked up, all ears.

They nestled against the headboard, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows around the

room. Cordelia poured out the tale, her voice gradually thickening with emotion. She recounted the

disturbing story the old man had shared about how her own mother was locked away in an attic and

how Alana gave her away. Tears streamed down Cordelia’s face as the weight of her own past finally

caught up with her.

By the time she finished, her voice was hoarse. The night had dwindled away, and she was exhausted.

She buried her face in her knees, not daring to look at Ronan, embarrassed by her own vulnerability.

“Is it Thomas again?” Ronan’s insight took her by surprise.

“The old man... he wants me to go back to England with him,” she finally admitted, avoiding the fact

that Tony was actually Eason's father. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Ronan, however, wasn’t shocked. He didn’t share her agitation.

Cordelia looked up, her eyes pleading.

“You’re not going to England,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” she murmured, retreating under the covers, gazing up at him. If she had known he’d be so

controlling, she would have kept it to herself. His words were like a barrier she couldn’t cross.

“It’s a mess you don’t need to be part of.”

“But I...”

Ronan suddenly leaned in, sealing her words with a kiss that sent shivers down her spine. His hands

roamed her body, his touch igniting sparks as he spoke, his voice a velvety caress. “Do you think

twenty billion is a lot? I have it,” he whispered against her lips, each word a seductive bloom of spring

flowers.

Cordelia was lost in the sensation, her voice powerless. Her protest got stuck in her throat as his lips

and hands explored, coaxing her into silence.

Breathless, she managed to say, “You know it’s not about the money. I just want to see my birth

mother. She’s insane, imprisoned... and she’s my flesh and blood.”

“You’re not going!” Ronan’s kiss deepened, his resolve unyielding.

And so, Cordelia fell silent, succumbing to Ronan’s enchantment, her defenses melting away under his

spell. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with equal fervor, knowing he feared

for her safety. After all, with Alana in England, and the criminal suspicions surrounding her, Cordelia

knew the chances of seeing her mother were slim.

Most importantly, Ronan believed that Cordelia had no real bond to speak of because she had never

met her mother. Blood ties, he felt, meant nothing without a relationship to back them up.

Though frustrated, Cordelia had no counterargument.

The next morning, she awoke in Ronan’s embrace. His arm was a comforting weight around her. As

she opened her eyes to find him still asleep, she felt like she was basking in the warmth of a cozy

hearth, never wanting to leave.

Cordelia admired his long lashes, the lean line of his lips, the tautness of his face that betrayed not an

ounce of excess—he looked nowhere near thirty-six. He could pass for twenty-eight or twenty-nine,

easily.

Feeling a bit wicked, she reached out to flick his eyelashes. He didn’t stir.