Chapter 17
Valencia looked again at the bracelet in her own hand—gemstones radiant, craftsmanship exquisite, truly top-tier.
Valencia took a deep breath.
She finally understood—these two weren't deliberately humiliating her. They genuinely had no eye for quality.
Sometimes ignorance was more exasperating than malice.
Seraphine stood to the side, taking it all in.
She watched her mother's hand holding the bracelet stiffen slightly. Watched the "we pity you" expressions on Haven and Xiomara's faces. A complicated emotion suddenly welled up inside her.
She thought back to those years at the Wipere family.
Haven had been just like this—always thinking herself superior, always assuming everyone else's things were junk.
"Mom," Seraphine tugged on Valencia's sleeve, "since she doesn't want it, just put it back on."
Valencia glanced at her daughter and nodded, slipping the bracelet back onto her wrist.
"Mrs. Wipere, since you won't accept it, I won't force you." Valencia's tone remained gentle, though noticeably cooler than before. "I'll prepare a more substantial gift another day and have it sent to your home."
"No need, no need," Haven waved her hand with a smile. "There's no reason for our families to keep in touch anyway. Now that Seraphine's gone back with you, just live your lives well. Anything else isn't necessary."
When she said "live your lives well," her tone carried a subtle pity.
As if to say—with your family's circumstances, being able to get by is good enough. Don't try to keep up appearances you can't afford.
Valencia smiled faintly and said nothing more.
She didn't want to explain herself to people like this.
Seeing Valencia go silent, Haven assumed she'd hit a sore spot and felt even more smug.
She pulled Xiomara's hand and took two more steps forward, lowering her voice to speak to Valencia. "Ms. Mellon, let me speak from the heart."
Valencia looked at her but said nothing.
Haven sighed, her tone carrying condescending "kindness." "Seraphine lived with us for so many years. We do have feelings for her. Now that she's gone back with you, your family's circumstances… well, we understand. But no matter what, the child is innocent. Even if you're struggling, don't mistreat her."
Valencia's brow furrowed slightly.
Haven continued, "Your family has three sons, right? I heard none of them have married? These days it's not easy to find wives. Costs quite a bit. With your family's situation, that must be difficult."
She glanced at Seraphine again, her eyes carrying a "your fate is unfortunate" kind of pity. "Seraphine is pretty, but what good is being pretty? Marriage still depends on family background. With your family like this, finding her a good match will be hard too."
Xiomara chimed in from the side, her voice soft but dripping with superiority. "Ms. Mellon, please don't take this the wrong way. I'm only thinking of Seraphine. When she was with us, she had the best of everything—food, clothes, everything. Now she suddenly has to live a hard life. I'm worried she won't adjust."
She paused, then added, "If Seraphine really can't manage, she can come back to our family. We may not be incredibly wealthy, but we can afford to support one more person."
The words sounded generous, but the "we're doing you a favor" undertone was so thick it practically dripped.
This time Haven wasn't pleased. She turned to her daughter. "How can that work? You're our biological daughter. She can't come back."
Valencia's expression finally darkened.
She could tolerate people looking down on her, but she couldn't tolerate people humiliating her daughter.
"Mrs. Wipere," Valencia's voice cooled, "Sera is my daughter. Whether she's living well or not doesn't require your concern. And you don't need to suggest she come back. She's my daughter. She won't be going back."
Haven smiled, that smile carrying more than a hint of disdain. "Ms. Mellon, don't misunderstand. I don't mean anything by it. I just feel for Seraphine. This child lived with us for so many years. I watched her grow up. Now seeing her about to live a hard life, my heart aches for her."
She glanced again at the bracelet on Valencia's wrist, adding meaningfully, "You should keep that bracelet for yourself. It looks too shiny. Probably dyed or something. Wearing it too long damages the skin. Not good for your health."
Xiomara immediately followed up, her voice sweet but every word like a honey-coated needle. "Mom, don't say that. That bracelet is Ms. Mellon's family heirloom. Giving it away might bankrupt the family."
She covered her mouth and laughed. "Ms. Mellon, please don't be angry. I'm pretty direct, but I mean well. I just think that you and Seraphine already have a hard life. This kind of heirloom should be kept safe. If it gets scratched or damaged, that would be such a shame."
Haven laughed as well, patting her daughter's hand. "You're so straightforward, child."
Valencia's face had grown quite ugly.
Her hand clenched slightly, knuckles whitening.
Seraphine stood beside her, watching it all, her eyes as calm as a stagnant pond.
She suddenly spoke.
"Mrs. Wipere," Seraphine's voice wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear, "you think this bracelet isn't valuable?"
Haven froze, not expecting Seraphine to ask so directly.
She smiled, her tone carrying mockery. "Seraphine, I may not be a jewelry expert, but I've at least seen the world. Real gemstones don't shine like that. Obviously dyed. If your family's short on money, don't try to pass off this kind of thing as something real."
Seraphine looked at her, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.
That smile was faint but carried an indescribable meaning.
Not mockery. Not anger. More like an "as expected" kind of understanding.
"Mrs. Wipere," Seraphine said, "I don't blame you for not understanding gemstones. But pretending to know when you don't is a bit ridiculous."
Haven's expression changed immediately. "What did you say?"
"I said," Seraphine's tone remained flat, "this bracelet is a top-tier gemstone piece. This one bracelet alone could buy everything you're wearing several times over. That so-called pure gold bracelet on your wrist is processed B-grade goods. Market value doesn't exceed five thousand dollars."
Haven's face turned ugly. "You're talking nonsense! I bought this bracelet at an auction. It has a certificate!"
"Certificates can be faked," Seraphine said coolly. "Real pure gold bracelets don't have that grayish color, and the texture wouldn't be that rough. Go home and have someone knowledgeable take a look. You'll see if I'm telling the truth."