Chapter 194: We Believe You

Patrick's expression was equally grim. He turned to Anastasia, his tone complicated. "Can you go to the media and clarify things about Renee? Just say it was all a misunderstanding."

Anastasia found it laughable. "Why should I clarify anything? Have you forgotten how you've all treated me these past years? And now you're asking me for help? Don't you see how ridiculous that is?"

"Don't you dare gloat!" Yvette shrieked. "Anastasia, I'm telling you—you're going to fix this today! Or I'm not leaving!"

This was Yvette's usual tactic: moral blackmail and threats to force Anastasia into compliance.

Anastasia simply took a step back.

At that moment, a figure emerged from behind her and strode quickly toward the door.

Tall and imposing, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance, he completely blocked the entrance.

Richard had returned.

If he hadn't been worried about Anastasia, he never would have witnessed this scene.

His icy gaze swept over Yvette and Nolan before finally settling on Patrick.

The oppressive weight in his eyes made Patrick instinctively tense.

"What do you think you're doing?" Richard's voice carried a bone-chilling authority.

Both Yvette and Nolan startled at Richard's sudden appearance.

"Mr. Roosevelt, this is a family matter. It has nothing to do with you!" Nolan said, mustering his courage.

Richard let out a cold laugh. He shifted to the side, completely shielding Anastasia behind him.

The gesture was unmistakably possessive and protective.

"From the moment you started using her as a blood bag, you forfeited the right to call yourselves her family."

Yvette and Nolan's faces turned deathly pale.

Anastasia froze as well.

She hadn't expected Richard to defend her so brazenly.

Flustered, Yvette's voice rose sharply. "What nonsense are you spouting? We never used her as a blood bag! Those were things she was supposed to do—"

Richard cut her off, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Do I need to print out all the medical records of her blood donations and bone marrow transplants for Renee over the years and post them online?"

The words struck like a thunderbolt, completely shattering Yvette's psychological defenses.

Her lips trembled, unable to form a single word.

Richard stopped looking at them.

He turned to Anastasia. "Did they hurt you?"

Anastasia shook her head, her emotions tangled.

"I'm fine."

Only after receiving her answer did Richard relax.

He turned back to the disheveled group at the door and delivered his final ultimatum.

"If I see you anywhere near her again, the Stafford Group won't need to exist anymore."

Patrick's body jerked violently. He stared at Richard in disbelief.

He hadn't expected Richard would go this far for Anastasia.

Yvette and Nolan were terrified out of their wits.

The Stafford Group represented all their blood, sweat, and security. They'd finally gotten it on track—if they lost it, they'd truly have nothing.

Nolan didn't dare make another sound. He frantically helped the collapsing Yvette to her feet and turned to leave.

Patrick took one long look at Anastasia, his eyes filled with regret and helplessness.

Then he too turned and left.

The alley fell silent again.

Anastasia watched their retreating figures, yet felt no satisfaction from their humiliation.

Instead, her heart felt hollow and empty.

She turned around and met Richard's deep gaze.

"Come inside."

Richard followed Anastasia into the studio.

This was his first time stepping into this space.

Every corner revealed the owner's thoughtfulness and taste. Several exquisite pieces hung on the walls.

The worktable was covered with unfinished design sketches and threads of various colors. The air carried a faint scent of fabric and coffee.

This place was full of life—warm and real.

Completely unlike his cold, monochromatic villa.

Anastasia poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.

"Thank you."

Those words contained too many complex emotions.

Thanks for his defense just now, and thanks for making her see the Stafford Family's true colors.

Though she'd known those things all along.

But hearing them spoken by someone else, in the stance of a protector, felt completely different.

Richard accepted the glass. "They won't bother you anymore."

Seeing him make what seemed like a promise, Anastasia fell silent.

She didn't know what to say to him.

He seemed equally at a loss.

The two of them remained in this standoff.

After a long while, Richard finally broke the silence.

"Your shop—I've had it unsealed. The website channels will be restored tomorrow too."

"Consider it compensation." His gaze shifted away somewhat uncomfortably.

As if these words made even him feel awkward.

"That's not necessary." Anastasia refused without hesitation. "The channel issue—I'll handle it myself."

She didn't want to owe him anything more.

Richard's expression darkened. "Do you have to draw such a clear line with me?"

"Between us, there should be a clear line."

"Anastasia!" Richard's tone carried both anger and helplessness. "Can't you just soften up a little—for me?"

Anastasia smiled self-mockingly.

'Softening up' had long ceased to be an option in her life.

She was about to respond when her phone rang at the worst possible moment.

Seeing Daphne's name on the caller ID, she quickly answered, her tone gentle. "Daphne, it's so late. Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Anastasia, something's happened!" Daphne's voice was urgent on the other end. "Check the news right now! The Stafford Family—they're causing trouble online!"

Anastasia's heart sank.

She immediately opened her laptop and pulled up a news website.

The top headline blazed: #Famous Designer Ungrateful, Drives Adoptive Mother to Collapse#

In the video, Yvette was sobbing dramatically to the camera, accusing Anastasia of being unfilial and rebellious, of colluding with outsiders to suppress her own family.

Nolan added fuel to the fire beside her.

Several so-called neighbors and relatives described in vivid detail how calculating and antisocial Anastasia had been since childhood.

[No matter what, she shouldn't treat her own parents like this.]

[She probably latched onto some rich and powerful person, so now she looks down on her poor relatives.]

[Never buying her designs again!]

The studio's official account was flooded with abuse and calls for boycotts.

Anastasia's fingers slowly curled into fists.

Daphne tried to comfort her over the phone. "We believe in you."

"I know, Daphne. Don't worry. Get some rest."