Accidentally Yours, My Super Rich Second Husband-Chapter 172: Fractured Ties

The living room of the Walton mansion was bathed in soft daylight, filtering through the tall windows draped in sheer curtains. The polished floors gleamed under the sunlight, and the faint aroma of fresh flowers filled the room from a nearby vase. Delphinia sat gracefully on the sofa, her posture elegant as always, with a delicate porcelain cup cradled in her hands. The steam from the tea spiraled upward, and she took a slow sip, the warmth grounding her as her sharp eyes lingered on the woman sitting across from her.

Lyvia sat stiffly on the edge of her seat, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her blouse. Her gaze darted around the room before settling on Delphinia, who remained silent, her face unreadable. The air between them was thick, heavy with unspoken tension.

Delphinia’s mind was a whirlwind. Yesterday had been unsettling enough with the unexpected encounter with Helena, and now Lyvia stood before her, clearly nervous but with some sort of intention. What now? Delphinia mused, swirling her tea slowly.

The silence stretched until Lyvia finally broke it, her voice soft but edged with anxiety. "I’m sorry for coming unannounced."

Delphinia arched a brow, lowering her cup onto its saucer with a gentle clink. "Well, it’s happened already." Her tone was calm but distant, as though she were observing from afar.

Lyvia bit her lower lip before gathering the courage to speak again. "I... I was worried about you. Since, well, that day."

Delphinia’s eyes darkened slightly, her fingers tapping the edge of the cup. "You mean the day when Robert Harrington kept me in his house like a prisoner?"

Lyvia flinched at Delphinia’s bluntness. "Delphinia! He’s—"

"My father?" Delphinia cut her off, her voice sharp now. "I don’t think so. Did you forget? I cut ties with him. I don’t want anything more to do with him or anyone under his roof."

Delphinia stared into the dark liquid in her cup, watching the faint ripples from where her fingers had tapped against the porcelain. A cold, bitter thought settled in her mind.

There was a time when the idea of disowning her father had been nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, something she told herself when the weight of his betrayal became too much to bear. But now... maybe the time had finally come.

What use was a father who couldn’t even act like one?

Lyvia’s face crumpled into a sad smile. "But you still let me in. You didn’t chase me away."

Delphinia was momentarily stunned, her brows knitting together. There was a soft crack in Lyvia’s words, a vulnerability that seeped through. She didn’t respond immediately, instead, she picked up her cup again, hiding her surprise behind another sip.

Delphinia let the warmth of the cup seep into her fingers, her gaze lowering as Lyvia’s words lingered in her mind.

She was right.

Delphinia could have easily turned her away, could have ignored her presence and made it clear that she wasn’t welcome here. She had done it to others before—people who came knocking on her door with false kindness, pretending to care when all they wanted was something from her. She had no patience for insincerity.

But with Lyvia... she hadn’t done that.

Even when she wanted to keep her distance, even when she told herself not to let anyone in, she still found herself leaving the door open just a little.

Why?

Maybe it was because, out of everyone in that house, Lyvia was the only one who sometimes felt tolerable.

She wasn’t like Helena, whose every word dripped with poison. She wasn’t like the others, who either ignored Delphinia’s existence or made sure she felt like she didn’t belong. Lyvia had always been different. She never forced herself into Delphinia’s life, never tried too hard to pretend they were something they weren’t. Instead, she was just... there.

Soft-spoken. Understanding in a quiet way.

She never demanded anything. Never made Delphinia feel like she had to be on guard.

That didn’t mean Delphinia trusted her, not completely. But perhaps, on some level, she didn’t mind her presence as much as she thought she would.

She took another sip of her tea, the slight bitterness grounding her.

It wasn’t that she wanted Lyvia around. But maybe—just maybe—she didn’t mind it as much as she told herself she did.

"I guess I’m still too soft," Delphinia finally muttered, though the edge in her voice had dulled.

Lyvia smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "I hoped you would. That’s why I dared to come."

Delphinia let out a soft sigh, setting her cup down again. "Let’s cut to the point, Lyvia. I need to get ready to pick up my son from school."

Lyvia’s hands twisted tighter in her lap before she straightened slightly, her nerves still visible but her voice gaining a faint firmness. "I’m sorry, Delphinia. I’m sorry for not helping you when he... when he locked you up. I was too timid, too scared to fight back."

Delphinia narrowed her eyes, studying Lyvia. "You’re right. You didn’t. And yet, here you are."

Lyvia swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling slightly. "Because now, I want to fight too."

Delphinia didn’t respond immediately. She simply watched Lyvia, waiting, giving her the space to continue. The younger woman’s hands clenched in her lap, her knuckles whitening, but she didn’t back down.

Lyvia let out a quiet breath, her lips parting as if to speak, but for a moment, nothing came. Then, finally, she muttered, "Mother has become unbearable each day."

A dry, humorless chuckle slipped from her lips, but Delphinia knew it wasn’t amusement—it was irony, bitterness. It was the sound of someone who had spent too long swallowing her own misery.

Delphinia knew that feeling well.

She tilted her head slightly, waiting, not offering comfort but not shutting Lyvia down either.

There was a beat of silence between them, the weight of Lyvia’s words hanging in the air.

She then sighed deeply, a long exhale that seemed to carry years of bottled-up frustration. "I want you to be careful of my mother."