Lucian waited until evening, but he received no calls from Roxanne. He suppressed his displeasure and rushed to the kindergarten to pick up Estella. He reasoned that he could find out what was going on once he arrived.

By the time he arrived, most of the children had left. He immediately spotted his daughter standing in a corner. Her head was hung low, and she clutched her schoolbag, looking utterly dispirited.

Lucian frowned and approached her, patting her head. “Why are you upset? Is it because I’m late? I’m so—”

Before he could finish, Estella pursed her lips, snorted, and walked past him. Lucian’s hand remained outstretched, his voice trailing off as he helplessly watched her reach the car. He watched her climb inside before turning his attention to the remaining children. The twins were nowhere to be seen.

“Mr. Farwell…” A teacher, noticing his search, approached cautiously. Her heart skipped a beat.

Lucian stared at her expressionlessly. “Where are the twins? Have they been expelled?”

The teacher lowered her head. “Not yet. I was going to tell them when they arrived, but Ms. Jarvis called this morning; the boys were unwell, so I didn’t get the chance.”

Lucian said curtly, “Okay,” and strode to the car without waiting for a response.

In the car, Estella hugged her schoolbag, her head resting on it, her gaze downcast and pensive. Seeing Lucian enter, she scooted away without lifting her head, creating distance between them.

Lucian sat beside her and told the driver to go. He then gave her a concerned look. “Can you tell me why you’re angry today?”

Estella turned her head, clearly reluctant to speak. Lucian understood immediately: He was the cause of her anger. He had a suspicion as to why, but he had no intention of addressing it unless Roxanne contacted him.

Despite this, Estella clearly wanted him to initiate the conversation. She made several attempts to get his attention during the drive home, but Lucian pretended not to notice.

Upon arriving home, a red-eyed Estella glared at him before storming to her room and slamming the door. She locked it from the inside.

Catalina, witnessing the cold war from downstairs, looked at Lucian with concern. “Mr. Farwell, what’s wrong?”

“Let her be,” Lucian said, frowning. “She’ll be fine soon.”

Catalina reluctantly acquiesced. However, at dinnertime, Estella remained upstairs. Catalina looked at Lucian, who sat at the table untouched. She sighed and went upstairs to bring Estella down.

After knocking repeatedly without an answer, a muffled sound—like something falling—came from inside.

Catalina’s heart sank. Before she could go for Lucian, she found him already standing behind her.

“Mr. Farwell,” Catalina said, “you know Ms. Estella’s like. She’s unsociable and struggles to communicate. Please be patient. How will things improve if you don’t communicate properly? Ms. Estella is different from other children. Aren’t you worried her condition might worsen?” Her voice broke, her eyes reddening with worry at the sound of something crashing inside the room.