In less than three seconds, Sophia's Twitter notifications started blowing up-likes, comments, and private messages surged rapidly.
"You're finally back, Soleven! Please, we're begging for a third anniversary piece for Shattered Stars!"
"Soleven, your work is amazing as always. How do you manage to capture such malice and grotesqueness with just a few strokes? The detail is insane, I can't even figure out how you do it!"
"Art student here, bowing down to you, Soleven! Can I borrow your hands for my exams, please?"
"It's been a while since you drew villain portraits, Soleven. Who are these two supposed to be, anyway? A wicked old witch and a little one? You must really dislike them!"
"Daily question: Soleven, will you accept a commission for Black Myth: Wukong character design? Been praying for this for years!"
"Wait, is that an official account from Black Myth: Wukong?"
"New here? You didn't know that several game studios have been trying to commission Soleven for years? They're basically her biggest fans now, but she never replies, LOL."
As the activity around the name "Soleven" quickly pushed it onto the lower ranks of the trending list, Sophia had already dressed and done her makeup. She was now walking down the corridor toward the grand staircase.
Ahead, a door opened, revealing Isabella in full evening attire, her arm linked with Margaret Richmond's. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
Margaret Richmond held her close, gently patting her back, clearly trying to comfort her.
Sophia paused, just in time to catch Isabella's gaze.
The girl's previously pitiful expression twisted briefly into something more sinister, before she quickly buried herself in Margaret's embrace once more.
Margaret Richmond seemed a bit uneasy, hesitating for a moment before giving in to Isabella's coaxing and patting her back again. She sighed as she turned to Sophia, "The banquet is starting. Today is your grandmother's birthday, and there will be many guests. Just follow me."
Sophia remained silent, her demeanor cool and distant. Margaret Richmond found her difficult to deal with and shook her head before leading both girls downstairs.
As they descended the stairs, Isabella took Sophia's hand in a seemingly affectionate but somewhat timid gesture. "Sister, I'll introduce the guests to you later, okay? Please don't mind me."
Margaret Richmond seemed pleased, but Sophia's entire body stiffened at the contact.
Downstairs, the room was filled with guests. Under Margaret Richmond's watchful gaze, Isabella dutifully began introducing Sophia to the attendees.
"This is my sister, my biological sister. She's been in poor health for most of her life, and we only just brought her back recently."
Hearing this, Sophia glanced at Margaret Richmond, who offered her a comforting and apologetic look.
Sophia immediately understood.
The Richmond Family didn't want the truth about the switched children to come out. In other words, she was merely an unknown sister who had been raised outside, while Isabella remained the cherished, golden youngest daughter of the Richmonds.
Her fingers twitched at her side as the orphanage director's wrinkled face flashed through her mind.
[Don't speak! At least not until you're certain you can stay in the Richmond Family. Keep your mouth shut if you can, even if they think you're mute or autistic!]
As she was lost in thought, Isabella suddenly tightened her grip on her hand.
"Look, it's Agatha Carrington!"
Then, in a whisper close to her ear: "See that man in the wheelchair? He's the one you're going to marry. A cripple."
There was a gleeful, malicious tone to her words, followed by a more sinister whisper: "But even so, you've hit the jackpot. If he weren't crippled, he'd be the wealthiest man in all of California."
From Isabella's tone, Sophia could hear genuine jealousy.
She looked up to see several people entering the banquet hall.
Leading the group was an elderly woman around Eleanor Richmond's age, leaning on a cane but looking sharp and proud. And, of course, the most striking figure was the man in the wheelchair.
The grand hall was brightly lit, filled with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and murmured conversations among the elites.
But as the wheelchair rolled into the spotlight, the entire hall fell silent. Everyone instinctively turned to look at the entrance, their breathing slowing as if by reflex.
Unlike the quiet that greeted Sophia's entrance into the Richmond Family that afternoon-when she had been met with curious, judgmental, and gossipy stares-these people looked at the man in the wheelchair with a mix of fear and reverence, desire and pity. But even that pity was carefully hidden, as if they dared not show it.
As the wheelchair rolled closer, Sophia finally saw him clearly.
He was a very young man.
Dressed in a simple black suit, without a tie, his shirt buttoned meticulously all the way to the top. His long neck and the elegant curve from his collar to his jawline exuded a quiet, regal charm. His Adam's apple was strikingly sexy, almost austerely so.
As for his face...
Sophia's gaze landed on the man's face, and she froze.
Only the most skilled artist could imagine and capture such a perfect contour and striking features. Her professional instinct kicked in-she immediately wanted to sketch his face. But before she could, her eyes locked onto his.
His eyes were languidly shaped, almost seductive, yet they held a deep, dark intensity that sent a chill down her spine.
But beyond that, what truly stunned Sophia was a strange sense of familiarity.
"Sophia, come here and greet Agatha Carrington. And this is Sebastian Carrington," Margaret Richmond urged, taking Sophia's hand.
However, Agatha Carrington was not easily appeased. After sitting down with Margaret, she gave Sophia a critical onceover. "So this is the daughter you've had hidden away for twenty years? How come I've never heard of her?"
"She's been frail since birth. A master foretold that she couldn't be raised at home, so we had to send her away," Margaret Richmond explained, squeezing Sophia's hand reassuringly before pushing her forward a bit. "Look at her, doesn't she look exactly like Alexander Richmond?"
Only then did Agatha Carrington study Sophia's face closely. Her previously picky expression softened. "She does look like the two of you. In fact, she's even prettier than Bella. Not bad."
Isabella's face turned pale, and she hung her head in silence.
Margaret Richmond immediately felt a pang of sympathy for her and turned to Agatha. "Please, don't say that. Bella's the one you've watched grow up. You've never missed a single birthday gift for her."
"That's because I thought she'd be my precious granddaughterinlaw!" Agatha snapped. "Who knew that after treating her so well for twenty years, the moment something happened to Seb, she'd refuse to marry him!"
"What nonsense are you talking about? Bella not wanting to marry him?" a voice bellowed from the doorway. Eleanor Richmond entered, supported by servants, glaring at everyone as she continued, "Wasn't it those two old fools in our family who made the arrangement? They insisted that our third granddaughter be the one. If you want to blame someone, blame them! You can't hold it against our Bella, who's been the fourth since birth."
Agatha Carrington huffed, her gaze sliding back to Sophia. "Be that as it may, this girl has been away for over twenty years. You don't really know her temperament, do you?"
"My child could never have a bad temperament!"
"Arrogant…"
The two elderly women continued to bicker, their tone gradually becoming more congenial.
Margaret Richmond, sensing something was off, glanced at Sophia and then said, "Sophia, why are you staring at him like that?"