CHAPTER 41: A SHIELD FOR LEVERAGE

"I think so. But do they really own that many subsidiary companies?" Erisia whispered back, her eyes moving from Rita to Seliora, who had clearly heard everything and couldn’t help but smile wider.

"I wouldn’t say that," Seliora cut in, her amber-gold gaze flicking between them. "Our subsidiary companies aren’t concentrated in one place. After all, it’s said not to place all your eggs in one basket, right?"

Rita nodded quickly. "Oh? Yeah. Yeah, right."

Erisia stared at Seliora, marveling at how young she looked despite being in her late forties. In the story, they’d only mentioned that Kealith’s parents looked youthful, but she would never have imagined this. Not only her appearance but her bearing—every word and gesture—was so effortlessly elegant that Erisia felt lackluster by comparison.

What the hell? This was the first time she’d felt this way in either of her lives. And she couldn’t help imagining what Kealith must be like if this were his mother.

Sigh. He must be out of this world. No wonder—even as words on a page—everyone wanted him to be the male lead of the story.

Seliora’s amber-gold eyes didn’t waver as she stepped closer.

"Miss Wrenford."

"You can call me Erisia."

"Right, Erisia." Seliora’s faint smile deepened. "Would you like to join me for brunch? There’s a place nearby where we can talk more comfortably."

Rita stiffened at once. "If she’s going, I’m coming too," she blurted, chin tilting in defiance.

Seliora’s smile widened by a fraction, softening her striking features. "Of course. In fact, I was planning to invite you as well, Miss... Rita, correct? You’ve been an excellent friend to Erisia. I wouldn’t dream of excluding you."

That earned her a startled blink from Rita, who muttered, "Well... okay then," under her breath.

Seliora turned her gaze back on Erisia, who nodded, curious about what Seliora Ashborn wanted to talk to her about.

"Sure."

"Perfect. Please ride with me," Seliora said as she turned and walked back to the car.

Eric stepped forward, opening the rear door of the sleek black sedan. "If you’ll follow me," he said politely.

⸻

The ride was quiet but far from dull. Rita kept a white-knuckled grip on her bag, eyes flicking between the tinted windows and the woman sitting opposite them. Seliora reclined against the leather seat, her phone resting untouched beside her.

Within minutes, the car rolled to a stop in front of an elegant corner restaurant. Sunlight spilled through wide glass panels, revealing a softly lit interior where pale wood tables gleamed beneath hanging brass lamps. A faint thread of jazz curled through the air, mingling with the scent of warm bread and fresh coffee.

A hostess led them to a secluded garden alcove framed by glass walls and potted lemon trees. Light caught on polished cutlery, scattering reflections across the white linen tablecloth.

When the first round of drinks arrived—a Mimosa for Erisia, a Bellini for Rita, something sparkling and citrus for Seliora—the woman finally spoke.

"I must say," she began, her voice low but resonant, "I’m impressed by how you’ve handled everything that’s been thrown at you lately. Most people would have folded—or worse. Yet here you are, calm, composed, and very much alive." Her gaze softened. "That is not an easy thing to accomplish."

Erisia tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. "I appreciate the compliment, but I have to ask—why? Why are you interested in me at all? And what exactly do you know about... my situation?"

Seliora gave a quiet, almost amused hum. "More than you think, though still less than I’d like. What I do know is that you’ve been forced into a dead end by people who believe they can treat lives like nothing. And despite the danger, you’ve stood your ground, refused to crumble, and clawed out space to breathe. That kind of resolve..." She let the words trail off, studying Erisia with open admiration. "It’s rare. Admirable."

She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering.

"People like Sierra—little schemers wrapped in a paper-thin façade of sweetness—are pests. They latch onto others, drain what they can, and convince themselves they own everything those people have."

Seliora’s eyes hardened. "You, on the other hand, refuse to let parasites like that dictate the course of your life. That’s why I wanted to meet you. To tell you that you’re not alone—and that women like Sierra never win in the long run, no matter how loud their lies become."

A brief silence settled, broken only by the steady rhythm of Rein’s soft purr from her carrier beneath the table.

Erisia met Seliora’s gaze, intrigued.

"That’s... a very specific opinion," she said slowly. "And a strangely reassuring one."

Seliora’s smile returned. "Specific, yes. But earned."

Rita glanced between them, wide-eyed, and whispered, "Okay, I was expecting brunch. I wasn’t expecting... this. Don’t tell me she did a background check on you."

"Clearly, she did." Erisia nodded, not bothering to whisper since Seliora could hear them anyway.

While Seliora continued, "Especially the way Sierra has been acting as if she’s the real daughter when she’s just a fake."

Erisia looked up, only mildly surprised—but it was expected.

Right on cue, the Echo System chimed in her head:

[ She investigated you. ]

’Yes,’ Erisia replied silently, ’and more than I thought.’

Seliora went on, her tone thoughtful. "Though that is largely because she’s publicly recognized as the biological daughter and your parents’ attitude toward her. And that is what puzzles me the most."

She paused, locking eyes with Erisia as if to ensure her next words struck home. "I’m a parent myself, and even if Kealith spent more than twenty years away from us, I could never love any other child the way I love him. So I don’t understand your parents’ attitude."

The waiter arrived with their brunch, quietly removing the half-finished drinks and replacing them with fresh ones. Plates of artfully arranged dishes were set before them, fragrant and steaming.

Erisia stared at the food for a while before replying to Seliora’s words. "Everyone isn’t the same. Someone like Selena Wrenford—who spent years pouring her time, her love, and her bond into Sierra, taking her as her only daughter and spoiling her—well, it’s only natural she wouldn’t see the other daughter she gave birth to as anything but a stranger. After all, it’s been twenty-five years. And unwanted memories disappear faster than cherished ones."

Seliora inclined her head slightly. "From the looks of it, you understand your parents better than they understand themselves."

Erisia picked up her spoon, her tone calm. "I do, because I don’t see them as my parents—just like they don’t see me as their daughter."

Seliora’s lips curved faintly. "So you don’t plan on staying with them. Or having anything to do with them."

"I don’t."

"I see. That’s good." Seliora leaned back, satisfaction glinting in her amber eyes. "I wanted to help you based on what you want. I thought you might desire what rightfully belongs to you, but I like your decision even more."

Across the table, Rita nearly choked on her drink. Her eyes widened as Seliora’s words clicked into place. "Wait—what?"

Realization dawned, followed swiftly by indignation. Rita punched Erisia lightly in the arm.

"What?" Erisia asked in surprise, rubbing at the sore spot.

Rita glared. "Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’re the biological daughter—and not that bitch Sierra?"

"Well... I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was important since everyone believes I’m the adopted one anyway."

"What? What do you mean by that? So what if everyone else thinks that? I’m your friend, aren’t I? You should have told me."

"I’m sorry." Erisia felt warmth stir in her chest at Rita’s genuine anger and dissatisfaction. In her last life, she hadn’t had friends who worried about her sincerely—only subordinates.

"Hmph. I’ll forgive you just this once. But don’t keep important things about yourself from me again."

"I promise," Erisia said softly, then turned back to Seliora.

"I appreciate your words and goodwill. But what exactly did you invite us here for? I’m sure it isn’t just to compliment or commend me."

Seliora’s smile deepened. "Because I have something to give you."

Rita blinked. "Give? Uh... what is it?"

"Something Erisia will find very helpful." Seliora’s gaze flicked to Eric.

He stepped forward, producing a folded tablet device and handing it to her.

"Here." Seliora placed it on the table and slid it toward Erisia.

Seliora placed it on the table and slid it toward Erisia. "There are images, CCTV footage, call records, and a complete log of Sierra’s movements since the day you returned to the Wrenford mansion."

Her amber eyes held Erisia’s, "Every pattern, every suspicious contact, every action she’s tried to hide—documented and time-stamped. I trust you’ll know how to make good use of it."

Rita nearly tipped her glass. "Wait, what? You’ve been tracking her? Like—full-on spy-movie tracking?"

Seliora’s smile was faint but unapologetic. "I prefer the term due diligence. When someone sets traps for others, it’s only fair to illuminate where those traps came from."

The Echo System pulsed a ding in Erisia’s mind.

[ Data acquisition complete. External intel synchronized. ]

Erisia rested a hand on the sleek tablet, feeling the subtle vibration of its active screen. "This is... a lot," she said quietly.

Seliora’s expression softened, "Consider it a shield. Whether you use it for defense, for leverage, or for something far more decisive—that is entirely your choice."

Rita gawked between them. "Okay, brunch just turned into a James Bond briefing. Are we sure the orange juice isn’t spiked?"

Seliora chuckled, unbothered. "No spikes. Don’t worry, Miss Rita, I only have good feelings towards Erisia."

Erisia traced the edge of the tablet with her thumb, liking Kealith’s mother even more.

It seems she was wrong, maybe the characters in the story are totally different from reality.