"Hope for Scholars?" Alia frowned as she tried to recall where she had heard that na from.
Hope for Scholars... It sounded awfully familiar, as though she had heard that na in her youth. Her brow furrowed as she tried to place it.
"It raises funds for students living in poverty, allowing them to seek higher education and better themselves to build better lives for their families," Emline continued to explain, a glint in her eye as she dangled her words like bait in front of Alia.
Against her will, Alia found herself paying attention to her words. Was this Emline’s attempt at an indirect jab about her past circumstances?
Well, if so, she would be disappointed. Alia was not ashad of her poor origins. And she couldn’t deny that she found this charity more aningful as she continued to explain.
"Our volunteers need donations to continue operations and provide aid in the form of scholarships, subsidies and ntorship programs. The goal is to get these youths engaged and employed, so they can help themselves in future. Will you accept?" Emline asked, an expression of hopeful innocence painted on her face, but she couldn’t mask the calculating glint in her eyes as she tempted Alia with her words.
"What’s the catch?" Alia asked. She highly doubted Emline would decide to hand her a charity she felt strongly for from the goodness of her heart. There had to be strings attached.
"There is no catch," Emline said serenely. "I am willing to let you take over this charity out of the kindness of my heart."
Beside her, Matteo let out the most miniscule of snorts, only ant for Alia to hear.
Emline continued, "Surely, based on your circumstances, you should feel more strongly about helping people like them. In fact, you might even have the ans to inspire the children to do better for themselves. After all, it’s not every day a sparrow transforms into a phoenix. Hopefully, they’ll change for the better― you know, without needing to marry rich."
"Fair enough," Alia said, letting Emline’s pointed comnt about her marriage slide off her back. It wasn’t worth it to pick a fight now.
Besides, her grandfather seed more displeased than she was.
"Emline, what are you trying to imply about Alia here?"
"Nothing grandfather," Emline replied sweetly. "I just hope my cousin can do a good job with that charity and prove herself to be a worthy mber of the Hawthorne family, and a worthy partner to Matteo."
She turned to Alia, her eyes glinting like the steel teeth of a rabbit trap.
"If you find yourself having any difficulties, just let know. I’m sure I can make the ti to lend you a helping hand."
Alia could only smile in response. She would ask Emline for help over her dead body.
"Don’t be so kind to her," Annalise warned. "Since she’s an heiress, she should also put in the work and start learning from scratch."
"No one is born an expert," Horace argued. "Of course Emline should be helping Alia. It’s her duty as a Hawthorne! Don’t forget, you also helped Emline a great deal when she just started."
Annalise puffed herself up in anger, ready to go on a tirade. "Emline is my daughter, was I supposed to see her struggle without lending a hand? If Alia wants, she can also seek help from her father."
Her grandfather winced.
"There’s no need to trouble Emline if she’s so busy. I can manage it on my own," Alia said, before the conversation at the table could turn to her father’s absence.
She didn’t have experience raising money for charities short of shaking a can and begging people to donate, but Alia would be damned if she accepted help from Emline.
Who knows what Emline might do to ruin her if she had access to Alia’s tasks?
"If you say so, cousin," Emline said, her eyes wide with innocence. "But if you can’t manage it, do let know sooner than later. The school year is starting soon, if you can’t do a good job in these three months, then the needy youth will have to kiss their financial aid goodbye. Are you up to the task?"
"Emline..." Horace began, but Matteo cleared his throat.
"There’s no need to worry. I have full faith in Alia’s abilities. Of course, I’ll be helping her as well," Matteo said, pressing a quick kiss to Alia’s cheek in full view of everyone at the table.
Alia’s cheeks flushed and she let out a little squeak, surprised by the sudden display of affection. Horace Hawthorne’s laughter echoed gaily through the room as he gazed at them fondly.
"Of course you will," Horace said indulgently. "I guess I have nothing to worry about!"
However, he was the only one that was happy for them. Benjamin Hawthorne rely stared at them impassively, before turning back to his plate. Annalise Hawthorne’s mouth fell open, her hand raised half-way, as though she wanted to point an accusing finger at them before she thought better of it.
And Emline?
Emline’s face purpled with anger, and her fingers wrapped around her knife hard enough to hurt. If it were made of cheap tal, she would have bent it beyond repair or recognition, rendering that piece of cutlery into scrap tal. Emline longed to fling it straight at Alia’s eyes, but this wasn’t the ti nor place.
Instead, she made herself smile demurely at their display of affection. Matteo could help all he liked― in fact, he would be indirectly making things worse for Alia with every effort.
After all, there was one unspoken rule among the won in their social circles― they should not be asking their husbands or significant others for help with their projects. As won, they had limited power in their family’s businesses, wealthy as they were. Their charity projects were the one way they could prove their ttle to each other, and their families that they were better than beautiful ornants on display.
But Alia Kentwood would have no choice but to seek help from Matteo if she wanted to succeed in these few months, Emline thought viciously as she finally decided to dig into her al, stabbing her steak with uncharacteristic force. That charity, Hope for Scholars, was the hardest to raise money for. And the people they were helping...
Emline’s lips curled in derision.
They were scum. The dregs of society.
And Alia Kentwood belonged right with them.
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