Chapter 7
Mason placed his bracelet on the table, his gaze sweeping over Alvina's barely controlled face.
"Diana is right. Rupert's health is the priority now. Since she has married into the Russell family, she is one of us. No one is to give her a hard time."
He was simultaneously supporting her, putting Alvina in her place, and establishing rules for all the servants present—the most authoritative elder had officially acknowledged her status.
Alvina's face changed dramatically. Still, she didn't dare contradict Mason. She could only lower her head in humiliation and pick up her cutlery again, stabbing at her plate with enough force to nearly shatter it.
Diana lowered her eyelids, picked up her water glass, and took a small sip. The warm water slid comfortably down her throat.
She had won the first battle in the Russell family. Though it was just the beginning, she had at least secured a foothold for herself.
The lunch ended in a heavy silence.
Diana pushed open the door to Rupert's room to find the man calling himself Alaric leaning against the headboard, his well-defined fingers resting on the burn scars of "Rupert's" face.
The "Rupert" in bed was actually a facially disfigured vegetative patient that the real Rupert had found to substitute for him when examinations were needed or other matters arose.
Rupert looked at Diana as she entered, his tone flat. "I hear you upset Alvina so much she couldn't finish her lunch."
"She insisted on asking for trouble. I could hardly disappoint her," Diana replied, approaching to move his hand aside.
She checked the vital signs monitor at the bedside, and only when she confirmed all readings were normal did she let out a slight breath of relief.
Rupert made a low, deep sound in his throat, the corner of his mouth curving into the faintest smile.
This woman always managed to say things that couldn't be refuted in the most casual tone.
"Mason stood up for you," Rupert said, rising. The blanket slid with his movement, revealing part of his toned chest.
"He wasn't standing up for me—he was standing up for himself," Diana replied, only now noticing that Alaric wore nothing on his upper body, though she didn't dwell on it.
"He needs a daughter-in-law who can keep you stable while holding off various factions. At least until Rupert fully recovers, or rather, until you no longer need me, my position is secure."
She understood the relationship perfectly.
Mason was no philanthropist. Every decision he made was based on the Russell family's interests.
His protection today was purely because she was currently a high-performing asset.
In this world, the most solid relationships were never based on ephemeral emotions, but on tangible mutual benefits.
Rupert deliberately lowered his head closer to Diana, extending his hand to force her lips within a finger's width of his own, as if he might kiss her the next moment.
Diana's heart raced. The man's appearance was truly exceptional—his bone structure and overall features were nearly perfect.
However, he didn't kiss her or speak further, just looked at her quietly.
Diana made no movement either, only managing to glance toward "Rupert" lying on the bed.
After a while, Rupert finally released the large hand behind Diana's head, gave her an enigmatic look, and left the bedroom.
The room returned to silence. Diana sat on the sofa, opened her work phone, and began processing the accumulated emails in the "Hand of God" inbox.
The screen was filled with pleas from top medical institutions and wealthy families worldwide, each offering more outrageous bounties than the last.
She scanned them rapidly, then emotionlessly selected all, marked them as read, and dragged them to the trash.
Just then, her personal phone vibrated on the table. It was a text from an unknown number: [Ana.]
Diana's expression turned cold.
Ana was a nickname only used by close schoolmates after she had been brought back to the York family years ago.
She didn't reply. Seconds later, the number called directly.
Diana took the phone to the balcony, answered, and simultaneously activated recording.
"Hello."
On the other end, a man deliberately lowered his voice, trying to create a gentle, passionate, magnetic tone. "Diana... is that you? It's Marcus Wells."
Marcus was her senior in college, student council president, from a poor background but strikingly handsome—the secret crush of many female students.
When she had first been brought back to the York family from Rosewood, Diana, covered in insecurity, had been one of those girls.
She had even done something as foolish as gathering all her courage to pass him a love letter.
The result was predictable: the letter was read aloud by his friends, causing widespread laughter.
He had stepped forward and defused the situation in a polite but distant manner.
He had said he admired her talent, but they weren't compatible.
Looking back now, it wasn't about compatibility—it was simply that she wasn't favored by the York family, so there was no benefit to be gained from her.
After all, he later used all his scholarship money to create romantic gestures pursuing Leila.
Leila had even bragged to her face that with just a small allowance, Marcus had eagerly followed her for three years.
How terrible her judgment had been in her naive youth.
"What do you want?" Diana's voice was as cold as if speaking to a stranger making a sales pitch.
Marcus was clearly taken aback, probably not expecting this reaction.
He quickly adjusted, filling his tone with supposed concern.
"Diana, I heard you married that dying Rupert from the Russell family. I'm calling to tell you not to be afraid—I'm still here for you. The York family is especially worried about you, afraid you might be mistreated in the Russell household."
"Is that so?" Diana chuckled lightly, leaning against the cold railing of the bedroom balcony, gazing at the distant scenery. "Is the York family concerned about me, or worried they've sold their cash cow with no way to milk more money?"
"Diana, how can you think that?" Marcus's tone conveyed how hurt he felt by her words.
"I know you're feeling wronged, but please don't give up on yourself. Listen to me—just endure a little longer in the Russell family. Once... once Rupert dies, you can leave, and I'll come for you. Diana, I'll marry you. I'll treat you well. Actually, I've always..."
"Marcus Wells," Diana coldly interrupted his nauseating declaration of love, "how much did the York family pay you to recite this hypocritical, disgusting script to my face?"
The other end of the line went dead silent.
Diana's smile grew colder. "Go back and tell your masters to find someone with better acting skills next time. And you—drop your delusions. You're not even worthy to shine Rupert's shoes."
With that, she hung up, blocked the number, and deleted the contact—all in one fluid motion.
A wave of nausea rose from her stomach. She hadn't expected the York family to grow restless so quickly, nor that they would be stupid enough to send an idiot like Marcus to brainwash her.
Did they really think she was still that little girl they could manipulate at will?
She looked down at her phone screen as another new message appeared.
This time it was from Dash.
[Diana, it's Dash. Let's meet. There are some things I'd like to discuss with you. The usual place, Starlight Cafe. I'll be waiting.]