He too had wanted to get married. Having seen the affection his brother and sister-in-law shared every day, he had longed for marriage. But after years of striving, when he finally achieved his current success, the woman he had hoped to marry had already wed someone else, becoming his elder sister-in-law.

It seemed like fate was playing tricks on him, and he guessed he might never marry in this lifetime. After all, there was only one Julia Bluen. Even if there were two Julia Bluens, he would love only the one he knew now; he would not seek a substitute unless he truly moved on. Otherwise, he was destined to grow old alone.

James Horne's reaction, however, left Gian Horne dumbfounded. He didn't understand why the mention of marriage evoked such an icy response from James, as if James despised the idea. Thinking of how James was soon to turn twenty-nine and had never been gentle with any woman, Gian Horne couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. Could his youngest son be abnormal?

Glades Horne had married late, but he had long been in a romantic relationship with the elder Bluen sister. The more he thought, the more Gian Horne worried, feeling that Pheobe Rogers was right to arrange a matchmaking banquet for James.

James Horne, unaware of his father's thoughts and uninterested in guessing them, got into his red Audi, drove away from the Horne family villa, and headed towards the Coastal District.

When he reached the Coastal District, it was only around seven-forty in the evening. Because it was winter, even though it was just past seven, it already seemed quite late.

After parking his car in the lot in front of his mother's apartment, James Horne took out his keys and unlocked the door.

Pheobe Rogers was sitting on the sofa in the living room, idly watching television.

She had called Gian Horne several times, asking him to keep her company, but he always said he was busy, which infuriated her. She didn't know what she had done wrong to make Gian ignore her these past few days. Not only would he refuse to keep her company, but he was also evasive and secretive whenever she called.

On the coffee table in front of her were scattered photographs, all of women. These were photos she had asked Gian to help her obtain, all of young ladies from Upper Class Society. She wanted to pick one out for James.

Her rival had a daughter-in-law, and she wanted one too. That way, she wouldn't lose when they argued.

Suddenly, she heard the door open. Thinking it was Gian, she deliberately put on a sullen face, pursing her lips as if she intended to ignore whoever came in.

After James Horne entered, he didn't speak, walking straight to another sofa and sitting down.

Realizing it wasn't Gian, Pheobe Rogers turned her head. Seeing her precious son, her attitude instantly did a complete one-eighty. She smiled, sat down next to James, and said cheerfully, "James, my dear..."

"Mom, call me James."

Before Pheobe Rogers could finish saying, "James, my dear," James Horne cut her off coldly.

The smile on her face froze for ten seconds. Still, Pheobe Rogers deferred to her son's wish and stopped calling him "James, my dear." He's so grown up now, she thought, he probably finds that nickname awkward.

"Have you eaten? If not, Mom will cook for you. Is work going smoothly? Are you tired? Would you like Mom to give you a massage?" As soon as Pheobe Rogers opened her mouth, a stream of concerned questions poured out.

Glancing at Pheobe Rogers, James Horne replied indifferently, "I ate at home."

"Why do you always go back there for meals? Home? Would that place be your home if your father wasn't there? You've lived there for over twenty years; you know best in your heart whether you truly consider that place your home. James, can you come here every day and keep Mom company? Mom will cook delicious food for you every day. This place can give you warmth; this is your real home." Pheobe Rogers couldn't stand James considering the Horne family mansion his home.

It was as if James was no longer her son.

When she had agreed to send James to the Horne family, it was because she wanted him to win over the old lady's heart, hoping the old lady would relent and let her move into the Horne estate as well. Even if she couldn't marry Gian, she would have been content just to be with him every day, even if it meant sharing a husband with Mila Anderson. But while the old lady doted on James, she doted on Glades even more. Twenty-some years had passed, and despite all her and James's efforts, she remained an outsider, never truly stepping into that grand mansion, a symbol of wealth and status.

Her greatest worry and fear were that her son would side with that other family.

James Horne didn't answer.

Seeing her son remain silent, Pheobe Rogers took a deep breath, struggling not to lose her temper. He so rarely visited; she couldn't afford to anger him and drive him away.

"By the way, what has your father been up to lately? What's keeping him so busy? Is it that he's old but his lecherous desires haven't faded, so he's out fooling around again?" Pheobe Rogers shifted the topic to Gian Horne.

"If Mom doesn't trust Dad, why stay together?" James Horne said coldly, his words laced with heavy sarcasm.

Perhaps it was because he had seen the implicit trust between his brother and sister-in-law these past two months that his mother's suspicions now struck him as particularly repulsive. Mila Anderson was the rightful wife and hadn't even called Gian to account; what position did his own mother hold to question him? Didn't she understand her place?

"What did you say?" Pheobe Rogers trembled, staring at James Horne in disbelief. Her precious son, the apple of her eye, more important to her than her own life, was telling her to leave Gian!

She had been with Gian Horne for thirty years. Besides this apartment, all she had gained was a son; there wasn't much else. Gian gave her a considerable sum for living expenses each month, but she had developed a habit of splurging. She often overspent and had to dip into the savings she had scraped together from Gian in her younger years. Over time, her savings, once in the tens of millions, had dwindled to mere millions.

Now she was old and faded, a mere mistress. If she left Gian, how would she survive? Who would marry her? If she didn't marry, with no source of income, what would she eat or use? How could she afford any luxuries?

"Mom, I'm leaving." James Horne suddenly stood up, unwilling to stay any longer.

"Don't go yet! Tell me, has your father found a new woman? Is that why he won't come to see me anymore? That damn bastard! Didn't he swear he'd love me for life? How dare he betray me at his age..."