The CEO's Secret Obsession-Chapter 137: Dinner in the Reid Mansion(I)

[Reid Mansion—Alexander’s Room]

Alexander was already awake, propped up against the headboard with a cup of coffee he wasn’t supposed to be drinking yet.

The city outside his window was waking slowly, sunlight spilling over glass and steel.

His phone buzzed.

A smile tugged at his lips before he even looked at the screen.

"Good morning," he said the moment he answered.

Evelyn’s voice came through soft and still a little sleepy. "How do you know it’s a good morning for me and not a bad one?"

"Because you are not bossing everyone around," he replied easily.

She laughed. "You are impossible."

"And you like me anyway."

There was a pause — the good kind.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, concern slipping in despite her teasing.

"Better," he said honestly. "Annoyingly bored. I am officially cleared to sit, stand, walk and complain."

"Very impressive recovery milestones," she said. "Have you taken your meds?"

"Yes, Doctor Carter."

"Don’t get sarcastic with me," she warned. "I will come there."

His voice dropped slightly. "I wouldn’t mind that."

She exhaled softly, smiling even if he couldn’t see it. "You are behaving today."

"Only because I miss you."

That earned him a quiet laugh.

"I am coming over tonight," she said. "Dinner, remember?"

"I remember," he said. "But I want you to bring Patricia."

She blinked. "Patricia?"

"Yes," he said smoothly. "Because if she is not there, she will interrogate you later. And because—" he paused deliberately, "I am inviting Lucas."

"Oh," she said, immediately understanding. "You are matchmaking."

"I am facilitating chaos," he corrected. "There is a difference."

She laughed again. "Fine. I will bring her. She is going to be unbearable about this."

"I am prepared," he said. "I have survived my grandmother’s league."

"That’s not the same thing," Evelyn said seriously. "Patricia has no fear."

"I will hide behind you."

Her voice softened. "You always do."

There was a brief silence — warm, intimate, unspoken things sitting comfortably between them.

"I will see you tonight," she said.

"Wear something warm," he added. "It’s getting cold."

"Sure," she said. "I will see you tonight."

The call ended and Alexander stared at his phone for a moment longer than necessary — smiling like someone who had already won something precious.

.....

[Reid Mansion — Late Afternoon]

The mansion felt different.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the formal dining room where the long table was already being set—crisp white linen, polished silverware, fresh flowers placed with deliberate care.

Pauline stood near the head of the table, overseeing everything with calm precision.

"Place the napkins on the left," she said gently. "And the water glasses closer. Alexander prefers them that way."

"Yes, Madam," the maid replied immediately, adjusting the setting.

Pauline nodded, satisfied.

That was when heels clicked against the marble floor.

Olivia entered the dining room, dressed immaculately as always, her expression pleasant—too pleasant.

She surveyed the room, taking in the activity, the staff moving with purpose, the quiet efficiency that didn’t revolve around her anymore.

"Well," Olivia said lightly, clapping her hands once, "this is festive."

Pauline turned slowly.

Her face was composed, unreadable but her eyes were sharp.

"We are having guests for dinner," Pauline replied. "It should feel welcoming."

Olivia smiled thinly. "Of course. Though I was thinking—we usually place Benjamin at the head. Perhaps we should rearrange the seating?"

She turned to the nearest maid without waiting for an answer.

"Could you move the centrepiece slightly and—"

The maid hesitated.

Then she looked—not at Olivia—but at Pauline.

The pause was brief but it was devastating.

Pauline didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t rush to assert herself. She simply met the maid’s gaze and nodded once.

"The arrangement stays as it is," Pauline said calmly. "Thank you."

"Yes, Madam," the maid said again, immediately returning to her task.

Olivia froze.

For half a second, her smile cracked.

She turned back to Pauline, her voice tighter now. "I was only suggesting—"

"I know," Pauline interrupted softly. "And I appreciate the thought."

Her tone was polite and final.

Olivia glanced around the room—the staff avoiding her eyes, the table already reflecting Pauline’s choices.

Choices that were being obeyed.

"Dinner is at eight," Pauline added. "If you would like to change for the evening."

It wasn’t an invitation, it was a dismissal.

Olivia’s fingers curled at her side, nails pressing into her palm. She forced a nod with her dignity barely intact.

"Of course," she said. "I will freshen up."

She turned and walked out of the room, her heels echoing sharply now.

The moment she was gone, the atmosphere shifted back to ease.

Pauline exhaled quietly and turned to the maid.

"Please check if the soup is warming," she said. "And tell the kitchen to take their time."

"Yes, Madam."

Pauline waited a few seconds after Olivia left before moving again.

She didn’t rush. She never did.

She adjusted the napkin near Margaret’s place, then straightened the cutlery near Alexander’s seat with practised ease. It wasn’t about control—it was about familiarity more like muscle memory.

The maid lingered, uncertain.

Pauline noticed. "You may continue," she said gently.

"Yes, Madam," the woman replied, relief clear in her voice as she moved away.

Pauline stood still for a moment longer, her gaze drifting to the head of the table where Margaret would soon sit.

Twenty years ago, she would have hesitated.

Tonight, she didn’t.

She turned toward the staircase, already mentally counting the guests, the pacing of the courses and the small things Evelyn liked.

Dinner wasn’t about tension, it was about normalcy.

And Pauline intended to make the evening peaceful, warm and as welcoming as possible for Evelyn who was visiting for the first time.

....

[Late Evening]

Lucas stood just inside the main hall, hands shoved into his pockets, slowly taking everything in.

The chandelier overhead glowed softly, freshly lit. The marble floors gleamed like they had been polished for an occasion. Even the air felt different—less cold, less forgotten.

"Well," he muttered, exhaling, "this place looks alive."

Alexander glanced at him from the foot of the staircase, faint amusement in his eyes. "That’s because it is."

Lucas let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I haven’t seen this place properly in years. I mean, I have been here a couple of times but not like this."

He turned slightly, eyes trailing down the corridor. "Remember when we used to race from the east wing to the garden and Margaret would threaten to disown us if we scratched the floors?"

Alexander smiled despite himself. "You always cheated."

"I absolutely did not," Lucas protested. "You were just slow."

Alexander scoffed. "You pushed me."

Lucas grinned. "Strategic encouragement."

They walked together toward the sitting area, their footsteps echoing lightly.

"It’s weird," Lucas admitted after a moment. "After you left, everything stopped. I didn’t even realize I had stopped coming here too until now."

Alexander’s expression softened. "This place stopped feeling like home after mom decided to leave."

Lucas looked at him then. "I guess you are right."

"We both knew this house wasn’t home anymore. Not back then," Alexander replied quietly.

Lucas nodded. "Still seeing you here again—it feels like things are resetting. Like we are back where we are supposed to be."

Alexander leaned against the console table, arms folding loosely. "I think that’s what Mom wants."

Lucas smirked. "Your mother didn’t come back to ’reset’ things. She came back to reclaim them."

Alexander huffed a soft laugh. "That obvious?"

"Painfully." Lucas glanced around again. "She rearranged everything. Even the portrait placements. Olivia’s influence is nonexistent."

Alexander’s jaw tightened briefly. "Yeah. I noticed."

"Oh my God, I can imagine how furious Olivia must be," Lucas chuckled.

"She is not showing it but I am sure all of this is not easy for her as well," Alexander answered.

Lucas studied him carefully. "Are you okay with all this?"

Alexander was quiet for a beat. Then, honestly, "I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until I walked in. It feels grounding. Like part of me that got boxed up a long time ago just unpacked itself."

Lucas’s grin softened. "Good. About damn time."

A pause settled between them—comfortable, familiar.

"And Evelyn?" Lucas asked casually, though his eyes were sharp.

Alexander’s expression changed instantly into something warm and steady. "She is okay with this new arrangement."

Lucas smiled. "I figured."

He clapped Alexander lightly on the shoulder. "You know, whatever happens next—family drama, wedding chaos, ghosts crawling out of old walls—you are not doing it alone this time."

Alexander met his gaze. "I never have. Especially not with you around."

Lucas nodded once. "Good. Because I am not planning on leaving again."

From the other end of the hall, the sound of movement drifted in—the soft clink of cutlery, voices preparing for dinner.

Lucas straightened. "Looks like the evening’s about to begin."

Alexander took a breath, squaring his shoulders—not with tension but with quiet resolve.

"Yeah," he said. "Let’s go."

And together, they moved toward the dining room—back into a house that was finally remembering how to be a home.

....