The heavy front doors swung open, and Mrs. Evangelia walked in. Her once proud posture was gone. Her expensive handbag hung loosely on her wrist, and the dark sunglasses she wore couldn’t hide the exhaustion written all over her face. Her hair was unkempt; her lipstick smudged from the hours she’d spent trying to keep her composure in the police station.The servants who saw her enter quickly turned away, pretending to dust the furniture or polish the already spotless vases. No one dared meet her eyes.“Where’s Sofia?” she asked sharply, though her voice cracked slightly. “Hope she didn't hear about this”But before any of them could respond, a voice came from the top of the grand staircase.“I’m already here.”Sofia stood there, dressed in a sleek beige blouse and jeans, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Her usual glow was replaced with quiet anger and disappointment. The echo of her heels filled the house as she descended the stairs slowly, deliberately, her gaze locked o

The atmosphere at Whitewater Corporation was buzzing louder than ever.By now, everyone had heard the unbelievable news — whispered from desk to desk, spreading like a digital wildfire that no one could contain.> “They say the intern—Andrea—is actually a Konstanio.”“You mean the Konstanio family? As in, the heirs to the empire?”“That’s impossible. He wears the same clothes every day.”“I don’t know, I heard Mrs. Veronica herself confirmed it.”Phones were out, messages were flying, and speculation filled every corner of the company. Yet, amid all that noise, Andrea sat silently in his corner of the intern department, pretending to type on his laptop, though his mind was far away.He could feel every pair of eyes in the room sneaking glances at him — curious, doubtful, and in some cases, resentful.He hated this.He’d known this day might come eventually, but not like this — not with rumors twisting the truth, not with everyone looking at him like some kind of exhibit.“Hey, Andrea.

The evening sky had turned an ominous shade of violet by the time Mrs. Evangelia stormed into Sofia’s mansion. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step carrying the weight of frustration and wounded pride. The servants, who knew better than to look her in the eye when she was in this mood, quickly disappeared into corners, pretending to busy themselves with meaningless chores.Sofia descended the staircase gracefully, her silk robe flowing behind her like a shadow. Her expression was calm — too calm — as she watched her mother drop her purse onto the glass table with a sharp thud.“What happened, Mother?” Sofia asked softly, though her tone carried a hint of impatience. “You look like you’re ready to declare war.”Mrs. Evangelia’s nostrils flared. “That ungrateful boy — he refused me. He didn’t even have the decency to listen properly. I went there to fix things, to remind him where he belongs, but no — he’s far too proud for that now.”Sofia’s brows arched delica

The pause between them was a living thing — thick, hot, ready to snap.Mrs. Evangelia’s finger tapped the lunch basket with deliberate impatience as she stared down at Gracie. “It’s better you listen to me when I ask nicely,” she said, each syllable oiled with condescension.Gracie’s jaw didn’t twitch. She tilted her head, the motion slow enough to be a challenge. “And what, exactly, are you going to do if I don’t?” she asked. Her voice was polite, but there was a steel rod of warning underneath it. The interns who had gathered nearby pretended not to listen, but their expressions showed otherwise — the safe sort of curiosity that only feeds spectacle.Mrs. Evangelia smiled without humor. “Make you regret it,” she said. “You don’t know who you’re playing with. I can make life very… uncomfortable.”Gracie didn’t lean away; she leaned in.Her breath was near enough for Mrs. Evangelia to feel it. Her tone dropped, not loud but close and precise. “Do you know who I’m dealing with?” she wh

Chapter 100The hospital lobby was alive with the usual rhythm of afternoon discharges — the shuffle of nurses, the low hum of rolling carts, and the scent of antiseptic fading beneath the faint aroma of coffee from the vending machine. Andrea pushed his grandmother’s wheelchair toward the glass doors, sunlight glinting across the tiled floor like liquid gold. Mrs. Veronica walked beside them, chatting quietly with one of her assistants about the final arrangements for the move to the Konstanio mansion.Everything was set. They were just a few steps from leaving when the automatic doors slid open, letting in a gust of fresh air — and two familiar figures.Gracie and her mother walked in.They were deep in conversation, Gracie holding her mother’s hand as they moved through the corridor. The resemblance between them was undeniable: the same graceful stride, the same confident poise, though Gracie carried hers with a softer, humbler warmth. Her mother — Mrs. Callista Astor was elegance