Chapter 44
In the living room of the Wipere Villa, Ryder sat on the sofa. The tea in front of him had been changed out three times—he hadn't touched a single cup.
In just forty-eight hours, the Wipere Group had lost its largest design partner.
The termination notice from Blue Ridge Design was cold and absolute—all projects terminated across the board, breach-of-contract penalties paid at the maximum rate, zero room for negotiation.
He'd pulled every connection he had to find out what happened. The only response he got back: You offended the wrong person.
Ryder had flipped through that thin legal document at least twenty times. He knew every word, but together they made no sense.
The Wipere family had done business in Silverlight City for so many years, always greeting everyone with smiles—when had they ever offended the wrong person?
The sound of keys jingled at the door.
Haven and Xiomara walked in one after the other, neither looking pleased.
Haven threw her Hermès bag onto the sofa and collapsed into the cushions, her chest still heaving violently.
"Guess who we ran into today at Grand Central Plaza?" Haven's voice was shrill and urgent. Without waiting for Ryder to answer, she continued. "Seraphine! With that dirt-poor birth mother of hers! A mother who can't even afford decent jewelry—but then the manager comes out, calls her 'Ms. Mellon,' and gives her the clothes we reserved, then kicks us out—kicks us out! On what grounds?"
Xiomara let out a soft sigh beside her and sat down next to Ryder, speaking gently. "Dad, Mom really was wronged today. We clearly reserved those clothes first, but the moment the manager showed up, he gave them to Seraphine's side without a word. When Mom just asked why, the manager said—'Because she's Ms. Mellon.'"
She paused, biting her lip. "I don't know what Seraphine's been telling people outside to make the manager treat us like that."
Ryder listened without immediately erupting. Instead, he slowly set down the legal document in his hand, his expression even uglier than before.
"Ms. Mellon?" He repeated the name, turning to Haven. "You've been in Silverlight City all these years—have you ever heard of any elite family named Mellon?"
"I checked the whole way back!" Haven's voice rose. "There's no family named Mellon among the notable households in Silverlight City! I bet it's that old man paying to prop up her mother's image. Who knows what Seraphine's been saying about the Wipere family behind our backs to make even a manager dare to bully us like this—"
"Enough." Ryder suddenly slammed his palm on the armrest, his face ashen. He picked up the legal document, his voice trembling. "Never mind about Ms. Mellon—Blue Ridge Design terminated our contract. Complete termination across the board. No room for discussion."
The living room fell silent.
Haven gaped for a long moment, then immediately redirected her fury toward the same target. "See! What did I tell you! Seraphine must have whispered something to that old man, gotten Blue Ridge Design to come after us! She resents us for breaking off the engagement, resents us for bringing Mara back—now that she's latched onto someone powerful, the first thing she does is get revenge on the Wipere family!"
"It's not impossible." Xiomara frowned lightly, her tone as though seriously analyzing an academic problem. "Last time when Dad called her back for questioning, her attitude was terrible. She even asked us 'are you all that rich?'—as if she already knew this day was coming. Maybe she had that old gentleman make a call to Blue Ridge Design."
Mother and daughter sang in perfect harmony. The more Ryder listened, the more convinced he became.
Blue Ridge Design had worked with the Wipere Group for over a decade without a single problem.
Yet right after Seraphine "got involved with an old man"—right after the Wipere family confronted her face-to-face—the termination notice arrived.
And they said something about "offending the wrong person"—who else could it be besides that old man in the Rolls-Royce?
"Bastard!" Ryder shot to his feet, his face flushed red. "I raised her for twenty years, and now she turns around and bites the Wipere family? Uses the Wipere family's lifeline to curry favor with some old man?"
He grabbed his phone, scrolled to Seraphine's number, and dialed.
The phone rang a few times before connecting.
"Seraphine!" Ryder barely contained his fury. "Blue Ridge Design terminating our contract—was that your doing? Do you think just because you've latched onto some old man you can do whatever you want? Do you have any idea what will happen to the Wipere family if this partnership ends? Get home right now and explain this to my face—"
Silence on the other end for a beat.
Then Seraphine's voice came through, flat and devoid of warmth. "Mr. Wipere, in what capacity are you asking me to come back?"
Ryder choked on that form of address.
"I have no relationship with the Wipere family anymore." Seraphine's voice remained calm, every word crystal clear. "As for the Blue Ridge Design matter—don't you all understand me so well? Don't you even know what I say to whom? Then why bother asking me?"
"You—"
"Also," Seraphine cut him off, "don't call me about the Wipere family's affairs anymore. I have no obligation to help you with any business problems. And don't contact me again."
The call ended. The dial tone buzzed through the silent living room, especially grating.
Ryder stood holding his phone, the fury on his face slowly morphing into disbelief.
Seraphine had been cold during her time in the Wipere family, but she'd never hung up on him so directly before.
What did she say—"the Wipere family's affairs have nothing to do with me"?
Haven shrieked something beside him. Xiomara patted her back gently, murmuring "Mom, don't get too upset," but her eyes were ice-cold beneath.
Three people in the living room—one cursing, one consoling, one standing with an ashen face saying nothing—while that legal document lay quietly on the coffee table.
In the courtyard of Windsor Manor, dusk deepened.
Seraphine ended the call, slipped her phone back into her pocket, and looked up at the last streak of orange-red light on the horizon.
The moment Ryder's fury erupted through the receiver, her heartbeat hadn't even quickened.
From the moment she'd decided to terminate the partnership, this call had been within her expectations.
The Wipere family would never reflect on what they'd said or done.
They would only pin all the blame on her.
Before, she hadn't cared—because she'd been willing to use twenty years of business dealings to draw a period at the end of that debt of raising her.
Now the period was drawn.
Steady footsteps sounded behind her.
Seraphine turned her head and saw Octavius walking out from the villa.
Today he wore a deep black trench coat over a matching high-neck sweater, his tall figure striking and refined.
He stopped behind her, hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, tilting his head slightly to look at her.
Dusk fell across his face, tinting those deep eyes with an ambiguous warmth.