Elsewhere in B City…
Rosalind walked into the grand marble building, clutching the brown envelope to her chest. Her heels echoed against the polished floors as she made her way to the elevator. The name VALOR INC. gleamed from the glass wall beside her.
She entered the boardroom, where two men sat waiting. Harry was absent, but his presence still lingered like a storm cloud in the air.
"Have you made contact with the girl?" the older man asked without looking up from his tablet.
"I have," Rosalind replied. "She doesn't know yet, but I've arranged for her to receive the offer within twenty-four hours. I'm confident she'll accept."
"She better," the second man added sharply. "We don't have time for delays."
Rosalind bowed slightly. "Understood."
As she left the room, her phone vibrated with a message.
Unknown Number: She has a sister who's very ill. Use that.
Rosalind's blood ran cold. There was no name, no hint of who sent it—but she already knew. Harry's reach extended beyond walls and borders. He knew everything.
The Fairchild Mansion
The grand marble floors echoed with tension as the ornate double doors opened. Two figures stepped inside—one tall and composed, the other a teenage boy with hesitant, downcast eyes.
"You have the audacity to show up here?" Old Madame Fairchild's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Get out of here. Now!"
Bruce Fairchild and his son, Chase, knelt humbly before her, heads bowed in submission. The boy flinched at the insult, but Bruce remained composed.
"Old Madame, please quell your anger," Bruce said gently. "It is not good for your health."
"Spare me your false concern." The old woman sneered. "Bruce, don't be so conceited. You brought your bastard son here to mock me, didn't you? You're still too young to challenge me. Your wretched mother wasn't even a match for me. You people are unworthy of stepping into my house. Get out!"
A flash of hatred flickered in Bruce's eyes, but he kept his gaze down. Beside him, Chase clenched his fists, clearly wanting to speak, but Bruce caught his hand in time.
"I only came because Father summoned me," Bruce explained. "I wanted to see him. And Chase—he misses his grandfather."
"Yes, I miss Grandpa a lot," Chase added with quiet conviction.
Old Madame's face twisted in disgust. "Well, too bad. My husband is in no condition to see anyone," she said flatly, then turned to Lady Mina. "Call the guards. If they refuse to leave, throw them out."
Humiliation flickered across Bruce's face, but he kept his voice steady. "Is Old Madame so determined to keep a son from seeing his father? You can't keep us away forever."
"Hypocrite." She spat the word like venom. "You're an illegitimate bastard. And as long as I live, neither you nor your spawn will ever be accepted into this family."
At that moment, Harry Fairchild entered the hall, drawn by the commotion. He paused, watching his grandmother berate the intruders with frosty indifference.
"Hello, nephew," Bruce greeted, forcing a gentle smile. "How have you been?"
Harry met his gaze coldly but said nothing.
Bruce's smile faltered, and with a deep breath, he stood and left, pulling Chase along.
The Old Madame's loathing didn't waver. She glared at their retreating backs with eyes full of unquenched fury.
Jacob's mother, she thought bitterly, had seduced her husband and wormed her way into the Fairchild family. She had forced the patriarch to recognize Jacob, but Old Madame had fought back with everything she had—her influence, her pride, her grief to prevent that from happening. No illegitimate bastard will contest with her grandson.
She had lost her only son and his wife in a tragic accident. Her granddaughter, Kimberly, was paralyzed for life, and Harry was left an orphan. That wretched woman had destroyed her family. Not even killing her was enough.
"I'm so sorry, my poor grandson," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I've failed to get justice for your parents."
Harry knelt beside her, his hand gently covering hers. "Grandmother, you've done enough. I will always be grateful for raising me... for everything."
The Lake House – East Wing
Outside a richly adorned room, a group of maids stood hesitantly. Holding a tray of food yet none dared to enter. An angry and irritated voice from inside the room, shouted at them, forbidding anyone from entering.
Sasha stepped forward, taking the silver tray from one of them. "I'll do it," she said. The frightened and fidgeting maids looked at her with grateful eyes as if she has liberated them of a burden and pushed open the door for her.
Inside, Kimberly Fairchild lay motionless on the bed, her long dark hair fanned across the pillow. She was stunning, even in her fragile state, but her eyes gleamed with sharp resentment.
"I brought your food," Sasha said softly.
"Are you deaf? I said I don't want anything! Get out!" Giselle snapped, her voice laced with rage.
"You need to eat, or your brother will be upset," Sasha replied, unbothered by the venom in Kimberly's tone. She walked calmly to the bedside and lifted a spoonful of porridge.
But Kimberly clamped her mouth shut, refusing to eat. Sasha sighed.
"You can't go to bed hungry. This is for your health."
"Quit pretending would you? It's disgusting " Kimberly's voice turned ice-cold. "You don't care about me. You're only doing this to impress my brother. But he doesn't like you, Sasha. He never will. He'll never look at you at twice."
The cruelty in her words hit home. Sasha's composure shattered. Her expression turned fierce as she bit her lower lip tightly. She dropped the spoon, and with a sharp movement, hurled the bowl to the floor. Porridge splattered across the pristine tiles mixed with the broken porcelain.
Her kind façade peeled away, revealing the disdain beneath.
"Arrogant cripple," she spat. "You think you matter? You're just a useless burden wasting space. That's why your fiancé abandoned you because no one wants a broken woman. Awwn poor little sister-in-law."
The mockery cut deep.
Kimberly's eyes welled with tears, her body trembling with rage though she could not move. Her lips quivered, but she said nothing.
"What's going on here?" a deep voice asked from the doorway.
Both women froze.
Harry stood there, eyes narrowed, surveying the mess on the floor.
Sasha turned quickly, her expression melting into a gentle smile. "Hubby, you're back?"
Harry ignored her. "What happened here?"
"She refused to eat. I was only trying to help…" Sasha said softly.
"Leave," Harry said coldly.
Sasha's smile faltered. "But—"
"Don't come back here again without my permission."
Crushed, Sasha lowered her gaze and left the room.
The maids entered quickly, cleaning the mess and replacing the food. Harry took off his coat, sat beside the bed, and picked up the new bowl of porridge.
"You need to eat," he said gently.
He lifted a spoonful to her lips.
Kimberly's lips trembled. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, disappearing into her dark hair.
"You have to keep living, Kim," Harry whispered. "It's the only way to honor Mother and Father. Please... eat."
For a long moment, she stared at him.
Then, finally, Kimberly opened her mouth.
Harry smiled faintly and fed her, one spoon at a time.
Back at the Lyle house, Ana lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts ran wild, torn between morality and desperation. She didn't want to sell her body. She didn't want to carry a stranger's child. But five million dollars…
Julia's smiling face floated before her eyes. Then Adonis's bruised face. Their mother's worn hands from years of hard labor.
Ana sat up and reached for her phone.
"Julia," she whispered into the receiver when the line connected. "I'll go to the interview."