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.

room, her fingers absentmindedly brushing over objects on the

the bedside table, where

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

walked over, picked up the frame, and sat down on

the photo radiated pure

weight of the family legacy hadn't yet fallen onto her young

moment she was pushed into the top position at such a

then, that bright, unburdened smile

often thought that if her firstborn had been a son, things would have been different. A son

take over their businesses. Their daughters might help out, but they didn't carry the full

they wanted,

had that

the

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

thought about it, the

felt like

given her daughter a brother

parents, she and her husband hadn't been able to shield

"Mom."

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