Burn Me Once, Burn With Me novel Chapter 455

As she spoke, Grace quickly reached for the serving fork and placed a helping of vegetables into his bowl, clearly hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

But the old man’s patience had run thin. He pushed his bowl forward and huffed, “How is this just nonsense? What could possibly be more important than Sylas settling down and starting a family?”

His eyes narrowed in on Sylas. “Tell me, Sylas. Just who is this girl? Your grandfather will see to it himself.”

Sylas’s eyes lit up instantly. “Really, Grandpa?”

Without missing a beat, he refilled his grandfather’s teacup and, eager to please, stood up to massage the old man’s shoulders. “Grandpa, you’re getting on in years—you have to keep your word.”

The old man pretended to be exasperated, snorting and glaring at Sylas, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Dad! Absolutely not!”

Before Sylas could say a word, Grace cut in, her voice sharp as a whip.

The mood at the table froze in an instant.

The old man fixed his gaze on Grace. “Grace, you’re not a child anymore. Why are you still so hot-tempered?”

Grace realized she’d overreacted. Her fingers tightened around her soup spoon as she forced herself to smooth her expression. “Dad, you really can’t promise Sylas this.”

“Oh?”

The old man’s interest was piqued.

After all, among the Cunningham grandchildren, Sylas was by far the most outstanding. In fact, even compared to generations past, he was one of the brightest the family had seen. His mother, well aware of her son’s talents, had always indulged him. It was rare, almost unheard of, for her to veto him so openly.

But as for why he was only “one of” the most outstanding…

The old man’s eyes darkened, his thoughts drifting to his youngest son, far away in Quinborough.

He gave a silent harrumph and forced his mind back to the present.

“Sylas has been holed up in Quinborough for months now. I heard he’s met some nobody from Stormhaven.”

“Stormhaven?” The old man frowned, the name meaning nothing to him.

Sylas’s face immediately clouded over at his mother’s scorn. “She is not ‘some nobody,’ Mom.”

“Alright, Sylas, is there anything you want to say?” The old man gave him a meaningful look, prompting him to comfort his mother.

But Sylas ignored the hint, sullenly returning to his seat.

“Grandpa, I only want her.”

The old man’s expression finally darkened.

“Sylas, I don’t want to interfere for now, but never forget—you are the heir to the Cunningham family.”

His sharp, discerning eyes locked onto Sylas’s.

This was the grandson he’d nurtured for years. He’d never fully handed the Cunningham family over to Sylas’s father, feeling he just didn’t measure up. But at least he’d raised a grandson who did. Someday, this entire family would be Sylas’s to lead.

For people like them, love and romance were usually nothing more than a passing amusement. He had never intended to meddle in his grandchildren’s choices. But Sylas’s stubbornness—this insistence on “her and no one else”—was dangerous for an heir.

Under his grandfather’s unwavering gaze, Sylas felt a heavy, immovable weight settle in his chest.

He lowered his eyes.