CHAPTER 201: CHAPTER 201: AS IF SHE SAW HER LITTLE DAUGHTER

"...It’s okay, I’ll be there on time. I’ll prepare a little performance over the next few days, maybe teach the kids some basic dance moves," she replied to Mrs. Payne with a smile.

Now that her relationship with Noah was clear, facing Ms. Morgan was an unavoidable challenge for her.

Mrs. Payne, reassured, spoke in a gentle voice, "As long as you can be with the kids, I feel at ease. They miss you the most, their beautiful sister who dances."

Vera’s eyes sparkled with a smile, "I’ve missed them too."

Mrs. Payne continued, "Oh right, Vera, Vivian’s grandmother, Elder Yates, is coming too. The old lady is also a kind person, and I couldn’t refuse her. But I definitely won’t be inviting Vivian. Everyone in our circle looks down on her now."

Vera didn’t know Elder Yates but responded casually, "Mrs. Payne, I don’t mind at all."

After a few more inconsequential chats and confirming the handover process, Vera had just hung up the phone when the doorbell rang.

It was Owen.

He was dressed in a suit without a tie, his shirt collar unbuttoned for two buttons, lounging lazily on the sofa, his voice hoarse from a hangover, "Sis, where’s Noah?"

"He flew to Bernheim again for urgent business." Vera returned with a cup of honey lemon water, handing it to him, and unintentionally glanced at his slightly open collar.

On his cold pale neck were several fresh red scratch marks, striking and suggestive.

One even broke the skin, forming a tiny scab.

Vera’s gaze paused momentarily, realizing he had a romantic encounter last night.

For the past two years, he’d been entirely focused on work, not having the time or mind for a girlfriend.

Owen took the cup, drank deeply, and swallowed images of last night’s entanglement with Carla Thorne.

After setting down the cup, he took a transparent file bag from his satchel and pushed it in front of Vera.

"I gave the Winslows Family a little nudge." His tone was casual, as if discussing today’s nice weather, "Gave them ten grand to sign a guarantee they won’t bother us again."

Vera skimmed through the document, frowning slightly, "Nudge?"

Owen reached out, scratching Lucky who had come over, "I found a couple of tough-looking guys to reason with them, no violence."

A wicked grin appeared on his lips, "When it comes to such people, you have to speak in terms they understand."

This tactic was something he had subtly picked up from Ian Kane in his younger days.

Vera said no more, only advising, "Be mindful."

"Got it." Owen leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as sunlight danced over his refined yet exhausted face.

...

Saturday, "Angel’s Home" lawn.

The sky was clear, and the autumn air was crisp.

Colorful soap bubbles floated in the sun, and children’s laughter echoed like silver bells.

Vera was wearing a haze blue knit dress that swayed gently with her movements, and a pair of white McQueen platform sneakers, which were convenient for moving on the grass.

Her hair was pulled back into a neat low ponytail, her elegant swan neck bare, her makeup natural and light, her lips a vibrant red, patiently guiding a few slower kids through the most basic ballet hand positions.

Her voice was gentle and clear, each word infused with patience and affection for the children.

Suddenly, a little boy in blue overalls broke away like a wild colt, making "vroom vroom" engine noises and spreading his arms like an airplane, rushing headlong towards the back garden of the villa!

"Xiao Yu!" Vera immediately blew the whistle around her neck, the shrill sound slicing through the air.

She quickly instructed the volunteer beside her and, with another, swiftly chased after him.

Old Madam Yates had just finished touring the rear garden and was walking out with her cane when she saw a little boy imitating an airplane, wobbling forward with his head down.

Concerned for safety, she quickly tried to stop him, "Child, don’t run, stop quickly!"

But the little boy, like a young bull, charged ahead, causing the old lady to stumble backward.

Seeing this, Vera’s heart tightened, and she rushed forward, catching Old Madam Yates just before she fell.

The little boy was also stopped by a nearby volunteer.

Vera helped the old lady to a nearby chair, asking with concern, "Ma’am, were you scared? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"

The old lady clutched her chest, took a few deep breaths, and shook her head, "I’m fine."

Vera picked up the cane and handed it back to her.

As she leaned down, she noticed the old lady’s black flat shoes had untied laces.

"Ma’am, your shoelaces are loose; you might trip. Let me tie them for you." She spoke as she crouched down.

Old Madam Yates looked down, and her eyes brightened, filled with a hint of surprise.

The girl before her had fair skin, and her blue dress made her look elegant and poised as she knelt on the ground, deftly tying her shoelaces.

Whose girl was this? Or was she someone’s daughter-in-law?

Vera finished tying the laces and looked up.

Seeing her face clearly, Old Madam Yates’s heart gave an unexpected jolt.

In a daze, it seemed as if she saw her own little daughter.

"Ma’am, I tied an Ian Safety Knot for you; it won’t come undone easily," Vera said with a smile, standing up.

Old Madam Yates glanced at the familiar knot, then back at Vera.

With a start, she finally recognized Vera.

The ballerina who often competed with her cherished granddaughter.

Old Madam Yates usually didn’t pay attention to Vera, only having seen her heavily made-up while dancing.

She rose with her cane, "Girl, thank you for before, but you should let things go. My Vivian is innocent; don’t target her anymore."

Hearing this, Vera was momentarily stunned, then realized that the old lady in front of her was Vivian’s grandmother.

Not far away, behind the pavilion, Rosalind Morgan clearly heard Old Madam Yates’s words.

Her lips curled downward.

This old lady is quite muddled!

Only to hear Vera say, "Ma’am, please understand, I’ve never targeted Vivian. She’s merely facing the consequences of her own actions."

Her voice was unyielding and calm.

In the sunlight, her flawless face bore a gentle smile, and as she turned to leave, her silhouette was graceful and composed.

Leaving the old lady behind, unable to speak, and looking down at her shoes, with those familiar Ian Safety Knots, her heart was once more touched with an ache.

Behind the pavilion, Rosalind watched Vera’s departing figure, her mind filled with a mix of emotions, and finally let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

...

After teaching the children, Vera returned to the villa to rest.

She walked into the break room to get her thermos when she pushed open the door and saw someone sitting in the armchair by the wall.

It was Rosalind Morgan.

Rosalind was reading a book, but raised her face upon noticing the noise.

They made eye contact.

Vera paused momentarily before naturally walking in and nodding slightly at her.

Rosalind’s throat moved slightly, her usual "hmm" stuck in her throat, and her fingers tightly pinched the book pages.

A second later, her gaze returned to the book, ignoring Vera.

Vera walked over to the cabinet to fetch her thermos, just as her phone rang, the sound jarring in the quiet space.

She hurriedly picked it up, sliding to answer to stop the disruptive ringtone.

Then, the voice from the other side came through clearly on the phone, "Ms. Sheridan, why did it take you so long to answer? Don’t you miss me, hmm?"

It was Noah.

In the silent room, the man’s voice was magnetic and lazy, with a hint of grievance, almost like a playful complaint.

Vera’s body jolted in shock, realizing she had accidentally hit the speakerphone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she instinctively glanced at the elegant figure in the sofa.