I suddenly realized, no wonder he looked so haggard and dejected, his face a bit pale.
"Lily Miller, please help Sophie Miller, everything in the past was our fault, can I apologize to you? Please have a kind heart and visit the hospital, and help her..."
Shirley Turner suddenly stepped forward, grabbing my hand abruptly, the sudden action scared the dog, which shrank back behind .
I furrowed my brow even more tightly, looking at Shirley Turner, a cold sneer spreading in my heart.
"It’s so rare, I never thought I’d hear an apology from you in this lifeti." I couldn’t help but mock.
"I’m apologizing to you, Lily Miller, I’ll do whatever you want as long as you go save Sophie Miller, she is, after all, your sister, it’s a human life..." Shirley Turner started crying, seemingly truly unwilling to part with her daughter.
From a mother’s perspective, she is undoubtedly competent, and Sophie Miller is blessed.
But my mind remained rational: "Since she is already beyond saving, a blood transfusion to keep her alive for just one or two days is aningless, why drag down those who are still living?"
I spoke the truth.
Back then, when my mom had terminal cancer, at her final monts, she also received blood transfusions, but the effect was minimal.
It was rely for psychological comfort.
And Sophie Miller had a rare blood type, it was destined that there wouldn’t be a large supply of blood from which to draw platelets to prolong her life. Even if I drained all the blood from my body, it would be a drop in the bucket, useless.
"It ans sothing! After Adrian Gordon gave her a blood transfusion yesterday, she did wake up and said a few words to ..." Shirley Turner’s voice trembled, full of pleading.
I sighed quietly, powerless.
She refuses to accept the impending death of her gravely ill daughter, she’s already obsessed.
She believes that continuous blood transfusions could sustain Sophie Miller’s life, allowing her to wake up from ti to ti—how could that be possible?
If it were possible, then illness wouldn’t be a fear for the wealthy.
"I’m sorry, I’m not going." After a mont of silence, I refused outright, then led the pug away.
"Lily Miller! Can I kneel down to you?" Behind , Shirley Turner cried out in heartbreak, dropping to her knees with a thud.
I couldn’t help but frown, stopping in my tracks to turn around.
"Aunt Turner, don’t do this, please rise!" Adrian Gordon hovered over Shirley Turner, trying to help her up from the ground.
But whether Shirley Turner was too heavy, or Adrian Gordon was too weak, he wasn’t successful even after several attempts.
I calmly looked at Shirley Turner, unmoved: "If you want to kneel, then go ahead, consider it atonent for you and the Miller Family, it’d be better if you knocked your head a few tis."
I know Shirley Turner too well, even if she kneels and begs now, she probably hasn’t truly realized her mistake.
It’s just a performance to trick into donating blood to Sophie Miller.
Sure enough, before I finished speaking, Shirley Turner and Adrian Gordon were both stunned, staring blankly at .
The pug anxiously spun in circles, whining incessantly.
I couldn’t be bothered with them, pulling the dog along as I walked away.
When I returned after walking the dog, there was no sign of them downstairs.
At night, I had a dream — a particularly tragic dream of Sophie Miller bleeding from every orifice, dying.
The next morning, I couldn’t tell if it was real or not upon reflection, but it had nothing to do with anyway.
I went to work at the company until three in the afternoon, leaving early to go ho and freshen up.
It was my first ti attending such a high-class social event, I couldn’t be casual, but I also couldn’t dress too extravagantly and outshine the host family.
After careful consideration, I chose a caral-colored pantsuit, with a notched lapel design that revealed a court-style white shirt underneath, appropriately cinching the waist to elongate the legs, visually adding a few centiters in height, making look tall and formidable.
I styled my long hair into a lazy updo at the back of my head, secured with a black bow which added a hint of sweetness and cuteness to balance my usual assertive and crisp deanor.
After spinning in front of the mirror a few tis, I was quite pleased with myself.
The phone rang, and when I picked it up, it was Daniel Carter.
"Hello, Mr. Carter."
"Lily Miller, the driver will be downstairs in about ten minutes."
"Alright, I happen to be ready, I’ll co down right away," I replied lightly, then sheepishly added, "I’m sorry to trouble you to send soone to pick up."
"No worries, it’s unsafe to drive on the mountain road at night, since I invited you, I must ensure your safety."
He was as thoughtful and ticulous as ever, always impeccable in his dealings.
After hanging up, I placed my phone into my handbag, along with so lipstick and foundation, ensuring everything was in order before heading out.
Along the way, my mood soared, both nervous and full of anticipation.
By then, I had completely forgotten the grudges I held earlier in my heart.
Nor did I care about the true intentions of the Carter Family in approaching .
I was just thinking to broaden my horizons, et people, and see Daniel Carter.
Who knows, I might even develop so VIP clients.
An hour later, the red flag L5 arrived at Carter Manor.
The driver said, "Miss Miller, the second young master is at the door."
Indeed, I saw him from a distance.
He was dressed in a dark blue suit, with a pocket square pressed in front, tall and handso, with superior features and a refined, noble air.
Standing there, he evoked the idiom—graceful as jade.
Butler Cross stepped forward to open the door for , and I clutched my clutch as I stepped out, seeing Daniel Carter approaching, offering a slight smile, "Good evening, Mr. Carter."
"Hello." Daniel Carter scrutinized , his gaze revealing a hint of amazent, "You look very beautiful today, different from others."
"Thank you." I thought he was just being polite.
It wasn’t until entering the banquet hall that I realized the young ladies present were all dressed in evening gowns, showcasing their beautiful bodies, displaying their most stunning and breathtaking appearances to catch Daniel Carter’s eye.
Only I, dressed in a pantsuit, was tightly wrapped in the warm, humid air.
That’s why Daniel Carter said I was—different from others.
It was then I suddenly realized that Mrs. Carter’s sixtieth birthday banquet was mostly likely Daniel Carter’s "selection of brides."
And at that mont, I was completely unaware.
After eting with Daniel Carter, we exchanged a few pleasantries and then entered Carter Manor together.
The parking lot at the entrance of the manor was already filled with cars, like a display of matchboxes.
It was more like a luxury car exhibition.
Casually glancing at a nearby car, my gaze suddenly fixed.
Bentley, license plate 66688.
With such a flashy license plate, anyone would find it unforgettable.
Instantly, a mory flashed in my mind of the argunt I had with Adrian Gordon in front of my grandmother’s apartnt complex...
Daniel Carter noticed my anomaly, and asked with concern, "What’s wrong?"
Pointing slightly at the car, I said in a sowhat drifting voice, "That Bentley..."
"What’s with the Bentley?" Daniel Carter was even more puzzled, then said, "That’s Natalie Yates’s car, is there an issue?"
Natalie Yates...
I realized it was the car of the owner of Yates dia, the new generation leader of the Yates Family, Natalie Yates.
I recalled Jason Miller once ntioned that at Adrian Gordon’s wedding, Daniel Carter attended with Natalie Yates’s invitation.
In other words, the night I was arguing with Adrian Gordon, Natalie Yates had witnessed it all.
Not sure if she heard what was said, or if she "verified" with Daniel Carter.
If so...
My mind buzzed with chaos, oh my god—what to do?
"Lily Miller? Lily Miller?" Daniel Carter called out to twice, inquiring with concern, "What’s wrong? Do you know Natalie? Did she bully you?"
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