Chapter 40
Seraphine leaned back against the sofa, her gaze calm as she looked at him. "Which of your eyes saw that?"
Ryder choked on his words.
Xiomara spoke up softly from the side. "Seraphine, Gavin and I both saw it. We even tried to talk to you about it on the spot. Why deny it now? Do you think pretending it didn't happen will make it go away?"
Her words drew nods of agreement from everyone in the room.
"We all saw it that day. You got out of an old man's car. He patted your shoulder. You two talked intimately. That car was a Rolls-Royce with custom plates."
"And?" Seraphine turned her head to look at her. "You saw me get out of a car and concluded I'm involved with an old man—Xiomara, who taught you that kind of logic?"
Xiomara's eyes reddened again. "Seraphine, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that the scene really did cause misunderstandings..."
"Misunderstandings about what?" Seraphine picked up where she left off, her tone as flat as stating a fact. "That I latched onto someone powerful? Or that I don't deserve to ride in that car? You see a luxury car and an elderly man, and your first thought is 'that' kind of relationship—Xiomara, it's your own mind that's full of filth. Everything you see looks dirty because of it."
Tears spilled down Xiomara's cheeks.
Gavin immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders, glaring at Seraphine. "That's enough! Mara was being kind—"
Ryder's voice cut him off, laced with a heartbroken authority. "Sera, you've embarrassed yourself right in front of Gavin! Gavin is your former fiancé, a member of the Percy family. You let him see you with some old man—do you realize how mortifying that is? What will the Percy family think of us, of the Wipere family?"
Seraphine looked at his furious face and suddenly found it almost funny.
Haven let out a cold laugh, picking up her teacup and taking a sip, her tone dripping with disdain. "Ryder, what's the use of talking to her about dignity? She doesn't care about the Wipere family's reputation. She freeloaded off the Wipere family for twenty years, and now that she's got nothing, of course she's trying to cash in while she's still young. I've seen plenty of people like her—terrified of poverty, willing to throw away any shred of decency."
Ryder took a deep breath, as though struggling to contain his rage.
He looked at Seraphine with a condescending tone. "If you really need money, you can tell me. Even though you're not the Wipere family's blood, we still raised you for twenty years. I'll give you a sum of money. Take it, live properly, and stop doing these shameful things."
Haven whipped her head around to glare at him. "Are you insane? Give her money? She's not our flesh and blood—why should we give her anything? What she does outside has nothing to do with the Wipere family! Not one cent!"
"Enough from you!" Ryder barked.
"Am I wrong?" Haven's voice rose. "Her own birth parents didn't even take care of her—why should we? If she wants to degrade herself, that's on her!"
The two of them started arguing right in front of Seraphine. The entire argument was about her, yet not one of them was actually speaking to her.
Seraphine sat quietly on the sofa, watching this absurd spectacle unfold.
One offering "charity," the other refusing to part with a dime, one shedding pitiful tears on the side, one holding his fiancée with an air of righteous indignation.
She suddenly felt tired of it all.
"Are you all that rich?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but the living room fell silent instantly.
Ryder and Haven both turned to look at her.
Seraphine leaned back against the sofa, posture casual, her gaze sweeping from Ryder's face to Haven's, a faint curve at the corner of her mouth.
"I'm asking you," she repeated, her pace unhurried, "do you think you're very rich?"
Ryder was provoked by her tone. He laughed coldly.
"The Wipere family may not be some top-tier elite household, but we're well-known and respected in Silverpeak Town. The company's annual revenue is probably more than your birth family will make in several lifetimes."
"Exactly," Haven chimed in, her tone resuming its usual arrogance. "That dirt-poor mother of yours can't even pull out a decent piece of jewelry. If it weren't for you—"
She didn't finish, but the cold laugh said everything.
Seraphine looked at their smug expressions and stood up.
She calmly adjusted her sleeves, then lifted her eyes—clear, cold, and steady.
"Fine."
Just one word.
Then she turned and walked out.
Behind her, Ryder's voice rang out heavily: "Think it over carefully"—his tone carrying the finality of an elder's ultimatum.
Haven scoffed under her breath, muttering "ungrateful."
Xiomara softly said, "Dad, don't get too upset," while Gavin soothed her, though his gaze followed Seraphine's retreating figure all the way to the door.
Seraphine walked out the gates of the Wipere Villa. The night breeze hit her face, carrying the coolness of early autumn.
She stood on the steps and looked up at the night sky. Silverlight City's sky was tinted faintly red by the city lights—barely any stars visible.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to a number. It belonged to the Wipere Group's largest design partner—the biggest pillar supporting the Wipere family's foothold in the building materials industry over the past few years.
What Ryder didn't know was that the owner behind that design company was standing right outside his door.
Seraphine's finger hovered over the screen for two seconds.
She'd been giving the Wipere family collaborations for over a decade for free, pulling them from the brink of bankruptcy to the wealthiest family in Silverpeak Town.
When she first found out she wasn't their biological daughter, she didn't care—because no matter what, the Wipere family had raised her for twenty years.
Later, she didn't touch the Wipere family because after the broken engagement, she was too lazy to have anything more to do with them. Keeping that partnership line intact was her way of drawing a passable ending to those twenty years.
But today—Ryder's condescending charity, Haven's contemptuous sneers, Xiomara's pitiful facade hiding a blade—made her realize that sliver of sentiment had run its course.
She made the call.
The other end picked up almost instantly, tone respectful. "Ms. Wipere, what can I do for you?"
"Terminate all collaborations with the Wipere Group. Effective tomorrow." Seraphine's voice was calm, as though instructing something trivial. "Pay out all early termination penalties within contract terms at the highest standard. Money isn't an issue. What I want is—clean, decisive, no room for negotiation."
The person on the other end was clearly taken aback but maintained their professionalism. They didn't ask a single question. "Understood. The termination notice will be delivered to the Wipere Group first thing tomorrow morning."
Seraphine hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
She glanced back one last time at the lights of the Wipere Villa, then turned and walked along the private driveway.
Behind her, Haven's shrill voice faintly echoed from inside the gate, scolding someone about something.
Seraphine didn't look back.
The night breeze stirred her hair. The streetlights stretched her shadow long and thin beneath her feet.
She walked at an unhurried pace, back straight, her figure as cold and sharp as a blade sheathed away.