Chapter 3

As I walked into the reception room, I could feel my palms trembling.

Michael turned away from the floor-to-ceiling window. "Where is it?"

His sharp gaze zeroed in on my empty hands.

Whenever he looked at me, his vibe was always icy cold, not even a bit of the warmth he showed Sophia.

Luckily, after they teamed up to send me overseas for three years, and not a single call ever got through, my heart was frozen solid long ago.

I forced myself to stay calm. "You mean that pen? It's not yours."

He shot me a cold look. "Are you trying to ruin your family and this seven-star hotel because of you?"

I clenched my fists, but they still slightly trembled.

It took me a long moment before I could finally speak. "Mr. Hart, you know what? I flew down south when I was eighteen to learn from a master craftsman. I bled and blistered my hands making that pen. It's mine."

I stared him in the eye. "You remembered it as a gift from Ms. Turner, didn't you?"

I already knew how hard-hearted he really was.

I never believed he'd use it because it was from me.

The only explanation was that he got it wrong.

Sure enough, he stood there, unmoving and silent.

I bowed my head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hart."

Michael walked over to me, stood silently by my side for a moment, and then strode off without saying anything.

When I got home that evening, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm for once.

My mom actually looked a bit softer.

My dad wasn't grumpy tonight.

Mom gestured for me to sit down. "How's work? Are you getting used to it?"

I nodded. "It's going well."

Mom patted my head gently. "The hotel's deputy manager said you're doing great."

It had been years since I'd felt this kind of warmth. It was like a dream.

I sat there, a bit awkward.

After a few minutes, Mom spoke up with a tentative tone. "Emily, Mrs. Lisa Hart has invited us to dinner tomorrow night."

I froze for a moment, looking at her in confusion.

She turned her head away. "You've been back for a while now, so you probably know what's going on between the Hart family and the Turner family.

"They're getting engaged.

"The Hart family feels they owe us, so they're inviting us to dinner before the engagement."

My fingers tightened one by one, clenching into a fist. Honestly, I had no idea what was running through my mind.

Dad lost it instantly. "What? You still can't accept it? Still not giving up? Ms. Turner is everything you're not. She's smart, graceful, gentle, and understanding. You haven't achieved anything."

I clutched the papers in my hand more tightly. "Dad, Mom, can I not go to the dinner tomorrow night?"

When we arrived at Hart Manor, Sophia and her parents, William and Cindy, were already there.

The living room was full of lively conversation. Everyone seemed to be getting along.

The butler cleared his throat and said to Lisa, "Mrs. Hart, Mr. and Mrs. Lane have arrived."

The room instantly went quiet.

I locked eyes with Sophia, who was sitting beside Lisa.

This whole scene felt like hell.

My parents were visibly uncomfortable.

But now, the Hart family called the shots in Harboia. No one dared cross them.

My parents still handed over the gifts with a polite smile.

But the real star of the night, Michael, was nowhere to be seen. He was probably swamped with work today.

It was already seven in the evening, and he still hadn't shown up.

Lisa looked a bit displeased.

Dinner had already started when Michael finally showed up.

He walked into the dining room and cast a quick, cold glance over the tense crowd, like he was stepping right into a battlefield.

He frowned slightly. "Grandma, what's going on here?"

His scrutinizing gaze landed on me for a moment.

I immediately lowered my head, stirring the soup in my bowl.

Lisa called out, "Michael, what are you standing there for? Sit next to Sophia."

Sophia and I were the younger ones at the table, so we were seated right next to each other.

But this time, Michael took the seat on her other side.

My hand tightened around the spoon, almost without my realizing it.

Thinking back to when I was a kid, I didn't really get how things worked. I always put my own feelings first. I believed I was the only one who should sit next to Michael, and if anyone took my seat, I'd throw a fit.

Back then, Michael treated me like a little sister, always indulging me.

But as we got older, he became increasingly impatient with me.

In the end, whenever I got on his nerves, he'd make me pay for it.

I picked up on it and started tiptoeing around him.

But that overwhelming crush I had on him always made me lose my cool and forget my boundaries.