Chapter 215
I looked at the genuine heartache and confusion in Emily and William's eyes.
My throat felt as if it were filled with bitter sand, unbearably dry and uncomfortable.
I could imagine what would happen if they knew the truth—if they knew Jack was Sarah's son, and that I had been raising my enemy's child all these years. Emily would likely throw all caution to the wind and go after Sarah, while William would no longer hesitate to collaborate with the Smith Group.
But I couldn't tell them.
At least not now.
I forcefully swallowed the bitterness and hatred rising in my throat, digging my nails into my palms to use the pain to steady myself and maintain a calm exterior.
I lowered my eyes to avoid their concerned gazes. My voice came out hoarse, but I forced it to sound calm—just sad and disappointed.
"George's idea is one child each. I kept Milly." I paused, as if struggling to find the words, "Jack has always been closer to Sarah since he was little, and he listens to her more. If that's what he wants, then he should stay with the person he feels closest to."
It was only half the truth.
Jack was close to Sarah because of their blood ties,, because of Sarah's deliberate manipulation and influence.
And my efforts over all these years likely meant less to him than a toy Sarah secretly given him.
Thinking back over the past six years—midnight feedings, nursing him when he was sick, and patiently teaching him—every moment was vivid in my mind.
I had genuinely loved him as my own child, even though he was spoiled and willful, even though he had begun to treat me with the same disregard as Sarah and George.
But in the end, it all felt like a cruel joke.
The child I raised with my own hands became the deepest knife in my heart, with Sarah holding the handle.
The man I truly loved only ever had eyes for another woman, even using her child with someone else to trample my dignity and strip away my last bit of worth.
Father and son—one cold and heartless, the other ungrateful—had both left my heart riddled with wounds, all for Sarah's sake.
How could I possibly still want such a son?
How could I dare to?
Seeing my pale face and the indescribable pain in my eyes, Emily assumed I was simply heartbroken over my son's betrayal. She quickly grabbed my hand to comfort me. "Grace, don't be too upset. Jack was led astray by Sarah."
"With the Smith family environment and their serious preference for sons over daughters, if Milly stayed there, she'd probably suffer even more. Over time, it would mess with her psychology. You bringing Milly out was the right thing to do. I support you!"
William also let out a heavy sigh, clearly agreeing with Emily's view.
In their eyes, not knowing the full story, giving up a son who'd already been corrupted and focusing all efforts on protecting a sweet, sensible daughter was the most reasonable and helpless choice.
I went along with Emily's words and gave a soft "mm."
But in my mind, I couldn't help but see flashes of my past life.
Milly lying seriously ill in a hospital bed, me holding her lifeless body as I leaped from a high balcony.
A chill shot up my spine. I clenched my fingers, my voice so low it was almost like talking to myself:
"Yes, bringing Milly out is the best choice."
I have to protect my daughter.
The atmosphere in the private room became a bit heavy because of that weighty topic.
"Alright, alright, let's not talk about those depressing people and things anymore." William was the first to break the silence, deliberately lightening his tone, "Today is supposed to be a celebration for Grace. Let's talk about something happy. Emily, didn't you mention last time that you had your eye on an island project and wanted to pull in investors? Tell us more about it?"
Emily caught on and immediately picked up the conversation, starting to talk enthusiastically about her new plans.
I cooperated by listening, occasionally asking a question or two, trying to focus my attention on the lively atmosphere my friends were deliberately creating.
The aroma of grilled meat gradually filled the air, mixed with a faint scent of alcohol, seeming to really dilute some of that suffocating stuffiness from earlier.
Emily picked up a perfectly grilled piece of beef tongue and put it on my plate, "Try this, it's their specialty. Best eaten hot."
I thanked her and had just picked up my chopsticks when a voice I found disgusting came from behind me:
"Ms. Brown, what a coincidence running into you again."
Sarah had come down from upstairs and was now standing by our table.
Her face wore a perfectly surprised smile, as if this really was a chance encounter.
"I didn't expect you'd be eating here too. If I'd known, I would have invited you to come upstairs. Mr. Albert Smith and George are both up there."
Her tone was intimate and natural, as if there had never been any bad blood between us.
I didn't say anything, didn't even turn to look at Sarah.
I just picked up the wet towel beside me, methodically wiped my fingers, then folded the towel and put it back in place.
Emily didn't have my composure. She let out a cold snort, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough for Sarah to hear clearly, "Really, you run into dirty things everywhere you go. Ruins your appetite."
William didn't give her a pleasant look either. While adding some juice to my glass, he seemed to casually echo Emily with sarcasm, "Keep it down, Emily. When someone does things too shamefully, they know it themselves. Saying it out loud just makes us look bad."
The perfect smile on Sarah's face instantly cracked like dried paint on a wall.
She wasn't stupid—she could hear Emily and William's pointed remarks.
The carefully drawn corners of her eyes twitched slightly, and her carefully maintained composure was hard to hold onto.
But she was skilled enough to quickly recover, her gaze still fixed on me.
"Well, Ms. Brown, you all enjoy your meal. I'll head up now."
She paused, then added another line, her voice still gentle but like a soft knife, "If you want to come up and sit for a bit, just give me a call and I'll come get you."
With that, she turned and walked toward the stairs.
I raised my eyes and glanced toward the stairway entrance from the corner of my vision.
I happened to see George coming out of the upstairs private room, apparently waiting for her.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the firm lines of his forearms.
When speaking to Sarah, his usually indifferent tone carried an added layer of gentleness.
"Why were you gone so long?"
Sarah looked up at him with a smile, her voice sweet and soft, "Got a work call, talked for a bit."
She didn't mention running into me downstairs, or Emily and William.
George didn't seem to ask further, just nodded slightly and stepped aside to let her go in first.
Watching that private room door close again, William let out a scoffing laugh and shook his head, "I thought I'd seen plenty in my time, but this level of two-facedness really opened my eyes."
"I rarely used the word 'mistress' before, thought it was too much of a label, but now I see that word and Sarah are a perfect match."
Emily raised her glass and clinked it heavily against mine with a crisp sound, "Forget about her. Let's drink. Come on, Grace, here's to you escaping that suffering—nothing but good days ahead!"
The vibration from the glasses colliding traveled to my fingertips.
I looked at the beer with its fine foam in my glass and smelled the fresh passion fruit aroma.
I actually rarely drank alcohol.
Before, at the Smith family, I had to take care of George's daily needs, watch the children's diet, maintain a so-called proper image—alcohol was almost completely excluded from my life.
But actually, I liked that slightly tipsy feeling from alcohol, liked the wonderful aromas of different drinks.
Today, I was free.
I raised my glass, nodded at Emily and William, then tilted my head back and downed the entire glass of cold beer.
The sweet-and-sour passion fruit and the slight bitterness of malt exploded in my mouth, slid down my throat with a refreshing coolness, followed by a slightly warming sensation rising from my stomach.
It tasted good, and it washed away some of the tension that had been wound so tight in my heart.
"Grace, slow down." William frowned and used the serving chopsticks to put some grilled vegetables and meat on my plate, "Eat something first. You have a sensitive stomach—don't drink so fast on an empty stomach."
Emily nodded repeatedly, "Right, right, eat something. The alcohol content isn't high, but it still has a kick."
They both remembered that I had a mild stomach condition.
It was from irregular eating habits in my early years, and later from constantly feeling depressed at the Smith family.
Warmth filled my heart, and the nausea that had risen from Sarah's appearance dissipated quite a bit.
I put down my empty glass and smiled at them, "Thanks, I'm fine. I'm just so happy that I drank too fast."
Looking at the undisguised concern and sympathy in their eyes, my smile widened a bit more, even carrying a hint of self-mockery, "Don't look at me like that. I really am happy."