Hi Ex, Your Uncle Is My Hubby Now - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Jeremy picked up the lip gloss, snapped a quick photo, and sent it to Irene.
She replied almost instantly. Irene: [It's mine. Could you hold onto it for me, Uncle Jeremy? I'll grab it next time I stop by.]
Next time?
Jeremy: [Sure.]
He set the lip gloss into the coffee cabinet without much thought.
That slender little tube looked completely out of place—tucked among all the neatly arranged, premium coffee bean canisters.
Dorian parked just outside Irene's building and got out to walk her the rest of the way home.
As they strolled and chatted, he asked, "How long is Grandma planning to stay in Eldraeth City? Want me to find a couple of people to show her around?
"She shouldn't be stuck at home all day, especially with you being so busy lately."
Dorian had always been thoughtful when it came to hosting.
Irene shook her head. "No need. She's not just visiting—she's staying for good. I'll take her out myself when the holiday rolls around."
"She's not going back?" Dorian frowned slightly.
'If Ruth stays by Irene's side, some of my plans will become harder to pull off,' he thought.
Still, considering her age, she probably wouldn't get in the way. That thought put him at ease.
"Well, it's nice she'll be around," he said with a warm smile. "If she gets sick or anything, at least you'll be here to take care of her."
Noticing how small Irene's apartment was, he added, "Have you thought about moving to a house with a yard? She could plant flowers or vegetables, keep herself busy. She might feel less lonely that way.
"Besides, your apartment's really only set up for one person. It might not be comfortable for her."
His suggestions sounded perfectly reasonable—he came off like a caring, attentive grandson.
But Irene didn't feel a thing.
Because she knew, all too well, that this gentle, thoughtful version of Dorian was nothing but an illusion.
She'd seen what he looked like when the mask came off—cold, cruel, and heartless. She would never again take his words at face value.
Irene had grown up with Ruth. Other than Ruth and Valerie, no one had ever treated her like something precious.
That was why, when Dorian first came into her life, he'd felt like sunlight—bright, warm, comforting.
But she'd been naive. She forgot that not all warmth came from sunlight. Some of it came from fire.
And Dorian was fire.
He could warm her—but he could just as easily burn her to ash.
Her heart remained unmoved, but she smiled and said, "You're so considerate, Dorian. Grandma would definitely like you.
"But I'm not planning on moving. And Grandma won't just be sitting around all day. Anthony and I talked, and we're going to have her help out at our studio."
Dorian frowned. "Isn't she a bit old for that?"
"She's seventy-eight."
He blinked. "She's seventy-eight? I honestly thought she was seventy at most. She looks great."
"She's strong. She still works every day back in the village—climbs hills like they're nothing. Age barely shows on her. After all, my dad—Henry—is already fifty-nine."
That caught Dorian off guard. "Your parents must've had you pretty late, huh?"
Irene replied calmly, "Didn't you know? I'm not actually the eldest daughter of the Jackson family. I had an older sister."
"You did?"
Dorian was genuinely surprised. "I've never heard about her."
"Her name was Lenora. She was a once-in-a-generation genius. She passed away when she was fourteen."
"What happened?"
"Leukemia." Irene's tone was half bitter, half wry. "I was born to save her. Unfortunately, my dad and I both have Rh-negative blood, so our types didn't match hers.
"My birthday… is the anniversary of her death."
Irene stopped talking and looked up at Dorian, sadness pooling in her eyes.