Having heard it repeated, Korbyn straightened up.

Juliette moved to put on a coat but her husband halted her. Korbyn clenched his teeth and asserted, "Mark must have faced some difficulties himself, prompting him to trouble us in the middle of the night.”

Nevertheless, Korbyn knew he had to handle the situation diplomatically.

Waylen and Rena's marriage hadn't been settled yet, so Korbyn had to flatter Mark.

With a change of attire, Korbyn put on a gracious facade as he descended the stairs. He greeted affectionately, "Hello, Mr. Evans. Why didn't you inform me earlier of your visit to Duefron? | would have prepared a sumptuous feast to welcome you."

Mark stood in the grand hall, emanating elegance.

He smiled.

"It's never too late to share a meal with me now."

Korbyn's countenance froze. Now?

He pondered if Mark was merely jesting

With the hour approaching ten o'clock, preparing dinner seemed implausible.

While conversing, a woman descended the stairs at a deliberate pace. She donned a long white lace dress, her striking black tresses cascading down, and her eyes appeared reddened.

It was Cecilia.

Guided by the voice, she had made her way downstairs, utterly surprised to see Mark.

Why was he here?

What could he want?

Mark met her gaze with a seemingly ordinary smile, observing her as though she were just a junior acquaintance.

Beneath the illuminating light, her face turned pale.

Yet, Korbyn remained oblivious to this, instructing the butler to arrange for the meal and advising his daughter, "Greet Mr. Evans here."

Though Cecilia's lips quivered, no words escaped her.

Turning on her heels, she dashed back upstairs.

Shaking his head, Korbyn spoke to Mark, "She's a bit spoiled. Don't take it to heart.”