Chapter 21: Suspicion

Shirley Vance waited at home all day, nearly falling asleep on the sofa before Amanda Vance finally returned.

She immediately perked up, glanced behind her, and asked, "Where’s the little bastard?"

Amanda Vance’s eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Startled by her glare, Shirley Vance swallowed her words. A moment later, she collected herself, a fresh wave of anger rising. ’How could I let her scare me?’ It was all Amanda’s fault. She had always been a thorn in everyone’s side, even back in school. The toughest kid from the class next door couldn’t even beat her in a fight.

She decided she wouldn’t bother arguing with such a violent woman. Remembering something, she smiled and pulled a ticket from her purse, handing it over. "Sister, this is a ticket for tomorrow’s car race. You simply have to come. Word is already out that the car you bought is a global limited edition, and a lot of people are waiting to see you in action. If you don’t show up, you’ll be making everyone lose face. It’s no big deal to me, of course, but the other young masters might not be so forgiving."

As for how everyone knew about the car she bought—that was, of course, Shirley’s handiwork.

Amanda glanced at her, seeing right through her petty scheme. "Shirley," she said slowly, "is this really the best you can do?"

Shirley pursed her lips into a smile, her face a mask of innocence. "Whatever are you talking about, Sister? I’m doing this for your own good, to help you build your reputation! It’s a great honor to catch the eye of Aethelburg’s young scions. You’re so beautiful, after all. Who knows, maybe someone will actually take a fancy to you tomorrow. You could finally land a rich husband and live the good life."

’Implying that I’m just a common sparrow, is she?’

Amanda let out a short laugh. "Well then, you’d better seize the opportunity yourself. After all, it’s not so easy for a chicken to stand out in a flock of cranes."

Shirley’s smile finally faltered. She glared, gritting her teeth. "Who are you calling a chicken?!"

Amanda covered her mouth with a yawn. "I didn’t name names. If the shoe fits..."

With that, she couldn’t be bothered with Shirley any longer and headed straight for the stairs. Her voice drifted back down, "You should keep that ticket for yourself as a souvenir. After all, it might be your only chance to see so many of your so-called ’wealthy heirs.’ Treasure it. It’ll give you something to brag about for the rest of your life."

An enraged scream echoed from behind her.

Amanda sighed. ’She still has such a short fuse. Getting this worked up over nothing. She’s got a long way to go to be like her mother.’

Back in her room, her phone pinged. It was a message from Hayden Grant.

She had an early start the next day, so she’d had Felix Ford go stay at the Grant estate for the night.

He had sent a photo. In it, Felix Ford was clutching a portable game console, a happy smile on his face as he played.

It was followed by a voice message. "Are you sure you don’t need me there tomorrow? That crowd doesn’t play nice."

"No need."

She could handle it.

The line went silent after that.

Amanda was about to put her phone down when it chimed again. This time, it wasn’t a message from Hayden, but an email. It was an invitation to the car race tomorrow, specifically requesting that she drive the new sports car she’d bought. Her eyes drifted down to the signature, and she read the name aloud. "Shawn Ford?"

’The second young master of the Ford family?’

She recalled Hayden Grant mentioning him before. Another one of Aethelburg’s infamous playboys.

She had no idea why he would be emailing her.

’Oh well,’ she thought. ’I was planning on going to the race anyway. I’ll just have to see what he’s all about then.’

At the Ford residence, Shawn Ford stared at the ’read’ receipt, his brow furrowed so deeply you could squash a fly in the creases. He muttered, "This woman has no manners at all."

After saying this, he looked over at the person sitting on the other side of the sofa and sidled closer. "Big Bro, are you really not going tomorrow? Don’t you want to see the woman who made a fool out of me?"

"No," Samuel Ford said without looking up, his fingers flying across the keyboard of the laptop in his lap.

"Tsk, so heartless." Shawn sighed. He glanced at the laptop screen and asked, puzzled, "Big Bro, why are you looking at airport surveillance footage?"

Samuel didn’t answer, simply dragging the progress bar back to rewatch the segment he’d just seen.

His brother’s reaction piqued Shawn’s curiosity. He leaned in to watch the screen, blinking. "Bro, it looks fine to me. What are you looking at?"

"This footage has been altered."

"Huh?" Shawn watched it again, his brow furrowed. "No, it hasn’t. The timestamps are all correct, and there are no gaps in the footage."

"If you were able to spot it, then the person behind this wouldn’t be nearly so skilled."

’They didn’t alter the whole thing, just skillfully clipped a section out.’

Samuel recalled the incident at the airport that day and abruptly headed upstairs.

Shawn was still shouting indignantly after him, "Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?! ’If you were able to spot it’? I’m not a complete idiot, you know!"

He was so mad he took a furious bite out of an apple. ’So infuriating! Big deal, so he’s a genius! Well, I’m the genius’s brother!’

Upstairs, a small smile touched Jean Vance’s lips. He placed his laptop on the desk and was about to head into the bathroom when Samuel Ford walked in.

He tensed, instantly on guard. When he saw that Samuel’s hands were empty and not holding a storybook, he relaxed slightly. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"To give you a bath."

"Huh?" Jean was baffled. ’Why does he want to give me a bath? Is this why he didn’t bring a storybook today? Is he planning to torture me in a new way?’

Resisting the idea, he refused coldly, "No, thank you. I can wash myself."

Samuel, however, had no intention of negotiating. He simply picked the boy up and carried him into the bathroom. It was useless for Jean to struggle; the man’s arms were like steel bars, holding him fast. He couldn’t budge.

’He was still too weak.’

Jean’s face was taut, and the air around him seemed to grow cold.

Samuel glanced at him, devoid of his usual patience. He wet the boy’s hair, squeezed some shampoo into his palm, and said curtly, "Close your eyes."

Jean’s expression hardened. He closed his eyes, face impassive, suppressing the rage bubbling up inside him.

The man was strong, and he’d clearly never washed a child’s hair before. He was so rough that Jean felt like he was about to be pulled bald. After enduring it for a few more seconds, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. "You’re hurting me."

He made no effort to hide the cold resentment in his tone.

Samuel’s movements became gentler. He scrubbed a few more times before rinsing the hair clean.

Jean wiped the water from his eyes and face. "Get out," he said coldly.

’The man has obviously never given a child a bath in his life. Why is he putting on this loving-father act now?’

He scoffed inwardly, not even bothering to hide the disdain on his face. Samuel stared at him for a moment, then, uncharacteristically, left the room without another word.

Once outside, he looked down at the strands of hair in his palm and sealed them in a small bag.

Shawn was still fuming over his brother’s earlier comment. When he saw Samuel come back downstairs, he let out a loud huff and turned his head away, refusing to look at him.

Samuel paid him no mind, walking straight to the front door and handing the bag to an assistant who was waiting outside. "Get this tested. Fast."

"Yes, sir." The assistant hurried away.

Shawn walked over, his curiosity getting the better of him. He watched the assistant’s retreating figure. "Big Bro, what did you give him? What are you having him test?"

Without answering, Samuel turned and walked back inside.

Shawn got even angrier. ’What is wrong with people today? Does anyone have any manners? Why is everyone ignoring me?’

’I can’t even stand to be in this house anymore.’

He put on his shoes in a huff, shouting "I’m leaving!" at the figure on the sofa. Still, he got no reaction.

’Block of wood!’

Muttering the insult under his breath, he slammed the door on his way out.

’Whatever,’ he thought. ’There are plenty of other people who’d love to hang out with me.’