A month had passed.
Sophia Sullivan and Emma Sullivan had grown much closer.
They were curled up together in Emma's cozy bedroom now.
No longer in the cold pottery studio.
Emma had invited her into this private space.
It was a sign of immense trust.
"You're so clever, Emma."
Sophia guided her gently.
She held the girl's slender wrist.
"Put more strength into your wrist here."
She pointed to the subtle curve in the clay.
Emma focused intently.
She completed a smooth, flowing line.
Then immediately looked up.
Her large, grape-like eyes sparkled.
Though she couldn't speak,
her whole face begged for praise.
Sophia smiled and ruffled her hair.
"You did wonderfully."
Nearby, Ethan Sullivan watched from his wheelchair.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He observed this tender scene quietly.
Over the past month,
the Sullivan household had treated Sophia with courtesy.
Yet useful information remained scarce.
Only fragments of clues.
But Sophia never grew impatient.
When it came to her mother's affairs,
she had infinite patience.
As the pottery lesson ended,
Ethan spoke thoughtfully.
"Today is Liam Winston and Chloe Evans' wedding, isn't it?"
He paused.
"Are you sure you don't want to attend, Ms. Sullivan?"
Sophia looked up wearily.
Her tone carried natural teasing.
"Mr. Sullivan, have I offended you?"
"Why suggest something so unpleasant?"
Ethan chuckled.
"Just joking."
Seeing Sophia's unruffled expression,
he secretly relaxed.
He understood Sophia's temperament.
And knew her past.
It was hard to imagine
she'd once dulled her brilliance for a man like Liam.
Content to play the homemaker.
Liam must have meant something to her once.
But seeing her indifference now,
it was clear those ashes had long gone cold.
...
At the Winston wedding venue,
guests gathered in droves.
Wedding music floated through the air,
but couldn't mask the whispers.
Some wore mocking expressions.
"Mr. Winston's fortunes fell after his divorce."
"The Robinsons withdrew funding. Mr. Sullivan blacklisted him."
"Angering two major conglomerates at once."
"What remarkable courage."
Another guest smiled politely,
but her tone dripped disdain.
"The Winstons are quite the mess."
"Mr. Winston's getting remarried,"
"while his father brings home a young secretary."
"Mrs. Winston is livid."
A bystander blinked innocently,
voice laced with sarcasm.
"A war waged for beauty's sake."
"Pity the bride's divorced."
"The Winstons rose up, then turned back."
"You know how it is."
Before she could finish,
a shrill voice interrupted.
"What a dump!"
Victoria Chamberlain drunkenly berated a server.
"With a face like yours, how dare you serve here?"
"If I were you, I'd jump off a building!"
Her nouveau riche arrogance
made several guests frown.
Oblivious, Victoria grew even prouder.
"Do you know who my son-in-law is?"
"The Winston Group heir!"
"Is this the service he deserves?"
Mrs. Winston forced a smile and pulled her aside.
"Don't upset yourself, dear."
"We can replace the staff if you're unhappy."
"No need for such anger."
But alcohol fueled Victoria's temper.
Seeing young women reminded her of the dress-stealing enemy.
Hatred surged.
"I'm perfectly healthy!"
"What's wrong with losing my temper?"
Mrs. Winston's face stiffened.
Was this fool deaf to hints?
As she prepared to speak,
a tinkling laugh rang out.
Mr. Winston's new secretary covered her mouth, amused.
Meeting Mrs. Winston's icy glare,
she retorted fearlessly.
"Mrs. Chamberlain is delightfully naive."
The sarcasm was unmistakable—
Mrs. Winston burned with rage.
But Victoria laughed heartily.
"Of course!"
"I'm kind-hearted and simple!"
Mrs. Winston stood speechless.
The nouveau riche truly understood nothing.