Chapter 2
Leaving the Jeffrey Technologies, Ophelia stared out the car window, her face expressionless.
Luca sat in the passenger seat and asked respectfully through the rearview mirror, "Ms. Blake, Mrs. Smith would like to meet with you privately. Are you available to go now?"
Ophelia's eyes were half-lowered, her tone unreadable. "Okay."
The car soon drove into the city center.
The Smith Mansion was a grand estate.
It shut out the noise of the world, exuding its own air of elegance and grace.
Ophelia was led to the study, a room decorated in a classic and refined style.
The antique shelves displayed items that looked understated, but she immediately recognized at least five valuable antiques that had appeared at auctions, worth a fortune.
Ophelia sat on the sofa and waited only a moment before Mireille Smith arrived.
Mireille was nearly seventy, her hair impeccably styled, wearing a dark green dress. Her eyes were sharp and clear, and everything about her radiated the grace and authority of someone long accustomed to power.
Ophelia immediately stood up and nodded slightly, her manner neither humble nor arrogant. "Mrs. Smith."
Hearing how she addressed her, Mireille's eyes flickered briefly, and she nodded slightly.
"Sit."
Ophelia sat down as told, her back still straight, her gaze calm as she looked at the other woman.
Mireille's face showed no emotion as she got straight to the point. "You've been out there all these years and suffered a lot. Do you hold any resentment toward the Smith family?"
Ophelia hadn't expected that to be her first question. Her feelings were complicated.
When Ophelia first learned she was the Smith family's daughter who had been switched at birth, she had felt resentment.
After all, if the Smith family hadn't been careless, she wouldn't have been switched by a vengeful servant. The smooth and carefree life that should have been hers had been difficult from the start.
She paused, then slowly replied, "If I said I had no hard feelings at all, that would be a lie."
Because of her status as an orphan, she had worked ten or a hundred times harder than others and endured countless cold stares and mockery.
"But resentment doesn't solve anything or change the past."
She continued, her tone calm. "So rather than resent, I'd like to know how the Smith family plans to compensate me, their daughter who's been lost for twenty-four years."
She didn't cry about her grievances or eagerly pledge her loyalty. Instead, she threw the question back.
Listening, Mireille's eyes showed a trace of approval.
Ophelia was more clear-headed than she'd expected, and bolder too.
Ophelia didn't act on emotion—she understood how to weigh pros and cons. In the treacherous world of wealthy families, this was more valuable than simple blood ties.
"Good." She spoke slowly. "What the Smith family owes you will naturally be compensated. From today on, you are the Smith family's legitimate daughter. The status, position, and resources you deserve—you won't lack any of it."
"And I'll give you a chance to compete fairly with the others for the position of future family head."
Surprise flashed in Ophelia's eyes. She hadn't expected Mireille to offer such generous terms, but she knew well that in wealthy families, there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"So what does the Smith family need me to do?" she asked directly.
Mireille looked at her deeply, the approval in her eyes growing stronger. "You need to quickly handle your marriage and return to being single. Then marry into the Brown family."
An arranged marriage.
Ophelia's heart sank.
She frowned, her voice cooling. "Is this a condition for returning to the Smith family and gaining inheritance rights?"
Mireille didn't deny it. "The Smith family and the Brown family's businesses are deeply intertwined. This marriage was arranged by the family years ago and concerns the next several decades of planning. Since you're part of the Smith family, this is your unavoidable responsibility."
What a high-sounding excuse.
Ophelia slowly stood up, looking down at Mireille, the last trace of warmth fading from her face.
"Because of the Smith family's carelessness back then, I struggled at the bottom for twenty-four years. Now I haven't felt even a bit of family warmth, and the first thing you ask is for me to sacrifice my marriage and future?"
She shook her head, her eyes full of mockery. "In that case, I'd rather not return to the Smith family at all."
With that, she didn't spare Mireille another glance and walked straight toward the study door.
"Have you thought this through? You're refusing the status and resources countless people dream of!"
Mireille's cold voice rang out behind her.
Ophelia's steps didn't pause. She didn't look back, her figure straight and resolute.
"I've thought it through very clearly. What I want must be my own choice, not forced upon me by anyone for any reason."
The study door closed softly, leaving Mireille sitting alone in the silent room.
She looked at the closed door, all the complex emotions in her eyes turning into a barely audible sigh.
Ophelia hadn't gone far when Luca caught up with her.
"Please wait!"
Ophelia stopped and turned to face this butler, who held a high position in the Smith family.
Luca remained respectful. "Ms. Blake, please reconsider what Mrs. Smith said. The marriage alliance between the Smith family and the Brown family concerns the family's planning for decades to come. For you, it's the smoothest path back into the family. This offer remains open."
Ophelia lowered her eyes in thought. "Luca, I understand her intentions, but marriage is not a business deal after all. I need time to think. I'll take my leave now."
She didn't completely refuse, leaving room for negotiation.
Luca looked at her deeply but didn't try to persuade her further, only bowing slightly. "We await your response at any time."
Leaving the Smith Mansion, Ophelia hailed a cab to the villa where she and Jeffrey had lived after marriage.
She planned to pack her personal belongings and move out.
Opening the villa door, the aroma of food hit her.
Ophelia paused, looking up to see the living room brightly lit, the dining table covered with exquisite dishes.
Jeffrey came out of the kitchen carrying a plate, still wearing the apron she'd bought but never used.
Freya followed beside him, holding tableware, a gentle smile on her face.
Kaida sat in a high chair, playing with a new toy.
Ophelia looked at this "warm" scene in the living room and found it deeply ironic.