When Mrs. Ormond saw the two young people embracing just now, her heart nearly stopped. It felt like the sky was crashing down around her. In that moment, she almost screamed.

But she had instinctively covered her mouth, forcing herself to stay silent.

As soon as the couple let go of each other, she spun around and walked away, no longer watching from the stairs. She wanted to pretend she hadn't seen anything, to go back to her room and process it quietly.

But she couldn't.

She had to talk to her daughter.

Just as she was struggling with her emotions, Elora came upstairs. And now, here she was, sitting in her daughter's room.

Elora studied her mother's expression for a moment before saying, "Alright, Mom, stay here. I'm going to take a hot bath."

Mrs. Ormond simply nodded.

As Elora disappeared into the bathroom, her mother let out a deep sigh.

Now that she had calmed down and thought about it more clearly, she had to admit—damn it, Tatum and her daughter were a perfect match.

The thought unsettled her. She couldn't sit still.

fingers absentmindedly brushing over objects on the shelves and desk, as if

bedside table, where

taken during the New Year, back when her parents-Elora's grandparents were still

she walked over, picked up

face in the photo

fallen onto her young shoulders. She had still been

into the top position at such

unburdened smile had

Ormond often thought that if her firstborn had been a son, things would have been different. A son would have carried the family burden and Elora

over their businesses. Their daughters might help

what they wanted, to

had that

daughter of the Ormond family ever

but they were still too little to shoulder any responsibility. Instead of being heirs, they were the ones

more she thought about it, the heavier the guilt settled

like

her daughter a

husband hadn't been able to shield Elora from the storms

"Mom."

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