Chapter 53: Let Me

After a day filled with turmoil and emotional highs and lows, Alia felt both physically and mentally exhausted. She decided to set aside her worries for the moment and nodded in agreement. Picking up her wine glass, she walked to the sofa, sat down, and took a small sip of the red wine. The rich aroma of the top-quality vintage unfolded on her palate.

She gently swirled the wine in her glass, yet her thoughts drifted to the past. Though she had been a common thief in her past life, her mentor often taught her the etiquette and skills of aristocratic life, especially the art of wine tasting. "Blending into the noble circles is the first step to steal more valuable treasures," her mentor's voice echoed in her mind. "You need to learn how to distinguish wine, understand manners, and even master culinary skills. Only then can you avoid being exposed."

As these memories surfaced, Alia's hand froze midair, her expression clouded with a hint of wistfulness. She thought of her mentor's warm yet strict demeanor, one of the few sources of comfort in her tumultuous past. For a fleeting moment, nostalgia dimmed her gaze, but she quickly composed herself and set the wine glass gently back on the table.

Marcellus, seated nearby, noticed the subtle shift in her mood and spoke first. "I'm sorry. I made things harder for you today. I shouldn't have shown my frustration in the car, especially after you brought meals you made by yourself for me. I've always trusted you—it's just that the conflict with Elias runs deep. I let my emotions get the better of me, and it dragged you into the middle of it. That was my fault."

Alia lifted her eyes to meet his. After a brief pause, she shook her head and replied softly, "It's fine. I understand—you're exhausted too. It's normal for brothers to have disagreements, and you have your own burdens to bear."

As she spoke, her thoughts grew heavier. Ultimately, I don't really know what kind of relationship Livia and Elias had… If they were truly close in the past, Marcellus's reaction would be understandable. But none of this has anything to do with me.

After a moment of silence, she continued, "No matter what, you're brothers. I don't want to get involved in your disputes or emotions. Some things… time may wash away."

Marcellus sighed, lifting his wine glass as his gaze rested on the deep crimson liquid. "You're right. The issues between us are complicated, and I bear some responsibility. I hope, as you said, time will mend some of the rifts." He looked at Alia, his tone softening. "By the way, after walking around all day, did anything seem familiar, or did you recall anything?"

Alia lowered her gaze and shook her head. "No, I didn't remember anything. Maybe, as you said, this is a kind of gift… Perhaps my subconscious is protecting me, keeping me from recalling certain things." Her voice carried a trace of mixed emotion.

However, when she remembered the construction site Marcellus had mentioned, her expression grew serious. "But regardless of your goals," she said, meeting his eyes with rare earnestness, "I hope this expansion won't come at the cost of exploiting ordinary people. I hope, like you've said before, like last time, this project will help the entire city thrive. I've seen too many people left homeless—they shouldn't have to bear the consequences of power struggles or profit wars."

She thought of her past life spent wandering the streets, living at the bottom of society. Her eyes reflected a burden of sorrow and defiance. Though those pains were now distant, she didn't want others to endure the same fate.

Marcellus, hearing the weight in her words, grew solemn. He paused, then said earnestly, "You're right. Neither I nor your father ever intended to achieve anything through the exploitation of ordinary people. That would not only betray our values but also go against the original purpose of these expansions. If it ever came to that, I would never agree to it."

Seeing his rare serious demeanor, Alia nodded. She picked up her wine glass and took another sip but remained silent. Her gaze wandered to the faintly visible night outside the window. Deep down, she sensed that Marcellus might not have revealed everything, but at least his convictions and promises didn't seem entirely false.

Even though doubts lingered in her heart, she could only choose to trust him for now. She let out a soft sigh, set the wine glass back on the table, and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Slipping her feet out of her shoes, she began to massage the soreness away.

Though her physical stamina had improved through training, the day's journey had taken a toll on her feet. Wearing high heels while traversing uneven terrain had left her aching. She lifted one foot onto her knee and bent forward slightly, using her fingers to knead the pain out of her arch.

As she focused on her task, she failed to notice Marcellus setting down his wine glass. His deep gaze rested on her quietly, as if weighing something in his mind. After a moment, he stood up and walked over to her.

"Let me." His voice was firm yet gentle, leaving no room for refusal.

Before Alia could react, she saw him kneel in front of her, taking the foot she was massaging into his hands. Her face flushed red instantly, and the touch of his hands sent a jolt of panic through her.

"You… you don't have to do this…" she stammered, her tone tinged with embarrassment and unease.

But Marcellus didn't stop. He carefully cradled her foot in his warm palms, his fingers pressing gently yet precisely against the sore spots. His touch brought an immediate sense of relief, a warmth and attentiveness she had never experienced before.

"Wearing heels all day is tiring enough, especially when you've walked so far," Marcellus murmured softly, his tone devoid of teasing and filled with genuine concern. "Even the best shoes can't handle terrain like that."

His hands were steady and deliberate, as if well-versed in the art of caring for others. Alia, unsure of how to respond, could only let him continue. She bit her lip, her gaze flitting elsewhere as she tried to hide her flustered state.

Yet, unbeknownst to her, the tips of her ears had already turned crimson.