Chapter 41 Orphans Ultimately Can't Make It
Sloane's POV
The noise outside finally died down completely. Isabelle must have gotten tired of cursing, and finally realized her threats meant nothing to me. I turned around, about to head upstairs, when the intercom at the entrance buzzed again.
I thought she'd come back, and was about to hang up, but the screen showed Annette's elegant and calm face instead.
I pressed the button to connect.
"Open the door." Her voice was brief, without emotion.
I opened the door. Annette walked in, followed by two assistants carrying bags large and small.
She looked around the empty, cold living room, her gaze finally settling on me. She frowned slightly. "Where's Jared?"
"No idea," I answered just as briefly.
She didn't seem surprised. She nodded and gestured for the assistants to put down what they were carrying. "There's a party at the estate Friday night," she got straight to the point. "As the lady of the house, you must attend."
I froze.
A party? In my current state?
As if reading my mind, Annette waved her hand. An assistant immediately stepped forward and opened several boxes they'd brought.
Inside were countless haute couture gowns, jewelry, and expensive heels, shimmering and dazzling, almost blinding.
"Look through these first. If you don't like them, I'll have them send another batch tomorrow." Annette's tone was as casual as if she were commenting on the weather.
Looking at those garments that seemed to exist only in magazines, I felt a sense of absurdity and wariness rising inside me.
I instinctively took a step back. "Mother, I don't..."
"Are you refusing me?" She cut me off, her gaze sharpening.
I pressed my lips together and said nothing.
"Sloane," her tone softened slightly, but still carried an authority that brooked no argument, "the lady of the Montclair house cannot hide in her hole like a frightened rabbit forever. At this party, I will formally introduce you to all the family's partners and old friends. This is your responsibility, and your first step in establishing your position."
Was she teaching me?
I stared at her blankly, looking into those eyes so similar to Jared's, yet settled with the wisdom of years.
"I don't need you to like Jared, and I don't need you to genuinely consider this place home." She walked up to me and smoothed the slightly disheveled hair at my forehead. The gesture wasn't exactly gentle, but carried a strange comforting power. "I just need you to remember—you are Mrs. Montclair. This identity can bring you honor and protect you. You need to learn to use it, not be dragged down by it."
These words brought me more peace than all of Jared's contradictory and hurtful tenderness.
So this is what it felt like to be treated as an independent individual who deserved respect.
In the frozen lake at the bottom of my heart, a crack seemed to appear, and warmth quietly flowed in.
I finally nodded. "Okay."
Annette smiled with satisfaction.
On the day of the party, I wore a moon-white gown studded with stars, my slightly curled hair loosely pinned up with a few strands falling by my neck, highlighting my swan-like neck.
My makeup was light but just right, covering all my exhaustion and fatigue, leaving only a pair of clear, calm eyes.
When I appeared at the entrance to the estate's ballroom on Jared's arm, almost every gaze focused on us.
The air seemed to freeze for a moment, followed by gasps and hushed discussions.
Jared also looked down at me. I saw a flash of amazement in his eyes.
Annette approached in an elegant wine-red velvet dress, wearing that practiced smile as she presented me to the guests drawing near."Everyone, let me introduce my daughter-in-law, Sloane Montclair."
"Mrs. Montclair is so beautiful. Jared is so lucky."
"Yes, I'd only seen her in the news before. I didn't expect her to have such presence in person."
Among the compliments, there were always some discordant probing remarks.
A jewel-laden society lady asked Annette with a smile, "Annette, which family is your daughter-in-law from? We've never heard of her before."
As soon as the question came out, the surroundings instantly quieted. Everyone perked up their ears, waiting to watch the drama unfold.
My background was an open secret in high society circles.
My fingers tightened slightly around my glass, the tips turning white.
Annette's smile didn't change. She affectionately took my hand, her tone carrying a hint of pride. "The Montclair family doesn't marry based on family background. We value character and talent. My Sloane is top-notch in every way."
Her words shut most people up, but couldn't stop the malice lurking in the shadows.
"That's what you say, but she did come from a foster home. Deep down, she's still different from us."
"Right, I heard even her own mother won't acknowledge her. Who knows what shameful things happened."
The contemptuous remarks were like needles, densely pricking my heart.
I lowered my eyes, my long lashes hiding all the emotions beneath, and silently took a sip of champagne.
Just then, an aged but vigorous voice broke through the uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Who dares speak ill of my granddaughter-in-law?"
Everyone turned toward the voice to see the butler pushing a wheelchair. Grandmother, dressed in an elegant deep purple evening jacket, her gaze sharp as a blade, was slowly approaching.
She stopped in front of us, her piercing eyes sweeping over the society ladies who had just been whispering. She snorted coldly. "A bunch of shallow-minded fools! You think having money makes you something special? Let me tell you—my granddaughter-in-law is New York's best surgeon! Countless people can't get her to operate even when they're throwing money at her!"
The entire ballroom fell silent.
Everyone looked at me with shock and disbelief, including Jared, whose undisguised surprise gave way to complex emotions churning in his deep eyes—emotions I couldn't begin to read.
Grandmother ignored the stunned guests. She reached out her wrinkled hand toward me, her eyes full of trust and affection.
I walked over and knelt down, placing my hand in her palm.
She gripped my hand tightly, her cloudy eyes full of heartache. "Good child, don't hide it anymore. You're gold that shines. Just because you're covered in dust doesn't mean you should forget your own brilliance. If anyone dares look down on you again, use your abilities to shut them up!"
Grandmother's words were like a depth charge exploding in the ballroom, the aftershocks lasting long.
Those society ladies who had been full of contempt moments ago now looked like ducks with their necks wrung—mouths open but unable to make a sound.
I stood frozen in place, my heart wrapped in a scalding warmth, the ache rushing straight to my nose.
I never imagined it would be the Montclair family matriarch who would vindicate me.
"Grandmother, I..." I opened my mouth, wanting to explain something—that it was all in the past, that I didn't care about these empty titles.
But Grandmother held my hand tightly, her grip firm, as if trying to transfer all her strength to me.
She patted the back of my hand, those cloudy but sharp eyes full of understanding. "Grandmother knows everything. You're just too stubborn, child, keeping all your grievances to yourself."
One sentence made my eyes instantly well up.
So she knew all along.