Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Chapter 129: Chapter 129: The Obnoxious Silas Blackwood

"U... Un... Uncle?" Silas Blackwood stammered when he saw who had opened the door.

He had stormed over, ready to catch them red-handed, but once the door actually opened, Silas Blackwood was too intimidated to say a word.

"Uncle, what are you doing here?" Silas Blackwood asked, playing dumb.

Quentin Blackwood, however, simply strode in. "You were outside making a scene about Ivy Sherwood meeting someone. Didn’t you only come because you knew I was here?"

Silas Blackwood always felt an immense pressure from Quentin Blackwood. "I received a photo. I saw Ivy Sherwood at a clubhouse with another man, and I thought she..."

"I didn’t realize it was you, Uncle. My apologies. I just don’t understand why you would be with my fiancée."

Silas Blackwood feigned ignorance about who was in the photo, making sure to pointedly emphasize the words "my fiancée."

His eyes scanned Quentin Blackwood. His clothes were still neat. ’They probably haven’t done anything,’ he thought.

This blatant attempt to assert ownership in his presence inexplicably annoyed Quentin Blackwood.

"What photo? Let me see." Quentin Blackwood held out his hand.

Silas Blackwood flinched. "Ah, maybe not."

’I have other messages from Cheryl Yates on my phone. If Quentin saw them, my lie would instantly fall apart.’

But Quentin Blackwood’s gaze was terrifying. "How about this, Uncle," Silas Blackwood said, unnerved. "I’ll send the photo to you."

"Hn," Quentin Blackwood grunted, which was his way of agreeing.

Silas Blackwood sent the photo to Quentin Blackwood’s phone. Quentin opened it. The picture only showed two figures from behind, one tall and one short walking together, but the scene was strangely harmonious.

"Did you have someone tailing me, or Ivy Sherwood?"

"No, Uncle, it’s just a misunderstanding! I didn’t have anyone tailing you. It was Cheryl Yates—she happened to see you and sent it to me."

Silas Blackwood threw Cheryl Yates under the bus without a second thought.

Quentin Blackwood’s presence was so overpowering that Silas Blackwood didn’t dare to ask what he really wanted to know.

He could only glance toward the kitchen, where Ivy Sherwood was cooking. "Uncle, you’re the guest. Please, have a seat. I’m going to see what my fiancée is doing."

With that, Silas Blackwood hurried into the kitchen. He had a few things to say to Ivy Sherwood, who was wearing an apron, so he shut the door behind him.

The moment Quentin Blackwood had opened the door and she’d seen Silas Blackwood standing there, Ivy Sherwood had a bad feeling.

’Silas Blackwood wouldn’t be here unless he was up to no good.’

’And since he already seemed to suspect something between her and Quentin, he wasn’t going to let this go.’

Sure enough, the moment Silas Blackwood entered, he cut right to the chase.

"Why are you with him? And in the middle of the night, you went to a clubhouse? Then you let him come to your house?"

"Alone together, a man and a woman... Ivy Sherwood, don’t you forget that I’m your fiancé!"

In front of Ivy Sherwood, Silas Blackwood made no effort to hide his anger, venting all the frustration he’d had to suppress in front of Quentin Blackwood on her.

Listening to him gave Ivy Sherwood a headache. "When and with whom I spend my time is my own business."

"’Your own business?’ Hah." Silas Blackwood laughed as if he’d heard a joke. "Do you think I’m dead or something?"

Ivy Sherwood knew that if she didn’t explain things clearly, Silas Blackwood would cling to this like a leech and never let go.

She said, "Fine. You want to know why I was with Quentin Blackwood? I was getting information for you."

"Getting information for me?" Silas Blackwood asked, confused.

Ivy Sherwood nodded. "You asked me who Quentin Blackwood’s woman is, didn’t you? I figured since he was drinking at the clubhouse, it would be a good time to get him to talk."

Silas Blackwood froze. He hadn’t expected that Ivy Sherwood went to the clubhouse to meet Quentin Blackwood for his sake.

’He’d only said one thing, and Ivy had taken it to heart and gone to investigate for him.’

’And here she was, claiming she didn’t like him. She was obviously just being difficult!’

Silas Blackwood suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He’d misjudged her.

"Did he tell you?" Silas Blackwood asked.

Ivy Sherwood shook her head. "Of course not."

"So I brought him here, thinking I could find another chance to ask during dinner."

"Is that all?"

"What else could it be? What did you think? That Quentin Blackwood and I were going to sleep together tonight?"

Silas Blackwood was speechless.

"Since you’re trying to find out who Uncle’s woman is, then find out for sure. If you can get me her name and phone number, I’ll give you a reward." Silas Blackwood assumed the woman Quentin was with was the one he was interested in.

Ivy Sherwood shot him a look, then turned on the stove, poured oil into the pan, and started cooking.

The pan was searing hot, and the moment the vegetables hit the oil, the air was instantly filled with choking smoke.

"COUGH, COUGH, COUGH..." Silas Blackwood’s eyes teared up from the smoke, and he quickly opened the door to get out.

’When had he, a Young Master Blackwood, ever set foot in a kitchen? He hated the smell of cooking oil and smoke clinging to him.’

This was Silas Blackwood’s first time at Ivy Sherwood’s place. ’This apartment is so small,’ he thought. ’Is it even a thousand square feet? The living room is smaller than half my bedroom. How can Ivy stand living in a place like this?’

’No wonder she’s so desperate to marry me, even willing to slander Anna Nash. It’s all so she can marry into a wealthy family and become a trophy wife. Hah. A calculating woman like her would naturally know how to win over my father.’

’My poor, kind Anna isn’t as calculating as Ivy, and now I don’t even know where Father has her locked away.’

Silas Blackwood had no intention of leaving, but he didn’t quite dare to go over to where Quentin Blackwood was.

Silas Blackwood wasn’t about to go looking for a snub, but he was starting to feel thirsty.

’Some host Ivy is,’ he thought. ’Doesn’t even know to pour a guest a glass of water.’

’Wait a second, I’m not the guest. In a way, I’m the master of this house. Quentin is the real guest here.’

Silas Blackwood cheered up at the thought.

He said, "Uncle, are you thirsty? Let me get you a glass of water."

Silas Blackwood acted as if he owned the place. Quentin Blackwood’s eyes darkened. "Since you enjoy serving people so much, make me a hand-ground black coffee."

Silas Blackwood was speechless.

’What does Quentin mean by that?’ he fumed. ’Is he calling me a servant? Treating me like the help?’

Silas Blackwood gritted his teeth. "If you don’t want any, Uncle, then fine."

Silas Blackwood was still thirsty himself. He saw a water cooler in the corner, but the cups... ’Who knows if they’re clean,’ he thought. He wouldn’t dare use them.

’The Blackwood estate is cleaned from top to bottom by maids every day. Who knows how long it’s been since this place was cleaned? It’s disgusting.’

Then he saw a bottle of water sitting on a shelf. ’Why does it have the clubhouse’s logo on it?’

Silas Blackwood walked over and picked up the bottle. Just as he was about to twist it open for a drink, Ivy Sherwood emerged from the kitchen with a plate of food.

Seeing this, Ivy Sherwood forgot all about her composure. "Silas Blackwood!"

The shout made Silas Blackwood jump, and he nearly dropped the bottle.

"What are you doing!"

Ivy Sherwood quickly set down the plate and rushed over to Silas Blackwood, snatching the bottle from his hand.

She checked the cap and sighed in relief when she saw it hadn’t been opened.

’She had been saving that water, not even bearing to drink it herself, and Silas Blackwood had almost polished it off.’

"Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? Don’t touch other people’s things in their homes! Are you finished? Why are you still here!"