sked through his headset, his tone p

esitate. "Hampton.

amily-he knew-a deeply rooted Old Money family in New York, whose influence and wealth were slowly and steadily declining. He g

s' neatly trimmed green lawns and stretches of mansions. After circling for a week, it began to descend-

nty-first birthday, and the estate is packed with New York's socialites. Champagne flows, string quartets pl

surrounded by flattery. Her mother, Anis Callahan, gracefully weaves through the crowd, embodying the perfec

advanced and expensive for any of their guests-a wave of excitement

ht it was a reclusive billionaire, perhaps a tech giant from the West Coast,

d her meticulous hair, and prepared to greet

suits and wearing headphones stepped out first, exuding a quiet yet chilling aura. T

she ap

face covered in mud. Catherine stepped off the helicopter and steppe

dually faded and then stopped completely. Hundreds of pairs o

froze, then twisted into a look of disgust.

manor security guards with her eyes, signaling them t

orted by white columns. A cold and hard hatred congealed in her stomach. This i

erine, waving a silk fan in her hand, exaggeratedly covering her nose. "O

ntly and threateningly signaling the power behind it. Aneth was much sharper than her daughter and sensed dang

on the balcony. The champagne glass in his hand froze in mid

face, a complex tide surging through him. The way he looked at her was not that

remembered Hillary once mentioning a daughter he had left in a forgotten tow

shirt and mud-stained shoes. All the glamour and extravagance at the party seemed to hold

hollow eyes. A slow, cold smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. She said not

o take a step. He walked down the balcony steps, wearing a stiff and hy