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.

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

bedside table, where a large framed

New Year, back when her parents-Elora's grandparents were

in her chest, she walked over, picked

the photo

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

was pushed into

bright, unburdened

would have been different. A son would have carried the family burden and Elora could

take over their businesses. Their daughters might help out, but they

the freedom to do what they wanted, to fall

had

the Ormond family

young boys in the next generation, but they were still too little to shoulder any responsibility. Instead of being heirs,

it, the heavier the guilt settled in her

felt like

given her daughter a

able to shield Elora from

"Mom."

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