Chapter 246

"You must come home for tonight's party."

Victoria Farley's voice was icy, as if Evelyn Sullivan owed her millions.

Evelyn arched a brow and refused outright. "I'm busy."

"Evelyn!"

Victoria's furious roar came through the phone. "If it weren't for Isabella wanting to reconcile, do you think I'd invite you? Working as a temp—how embarrassing for the Jacksons!"

Evelyn nearly laughed. Afraid she'd disgrace them, yet insisting she attend. Victoria's logic was truly something.

"If you're worried about embarrassment, don't invite me."

She hung up decisively, leaving Victoria seething.

Soon, a text arrived from Isabella.

[Too scared to come home, sister? Afraid you'll pale in comparison?]

[Don't feel bad. After all those years in the countryside, it's natural you can't keep up.]

[If I were you, I'd leave Ethan voluntarily. Save him the shame.]

Evelyn skimmed the messages and didn't bother replying.

Night fell, and the Jackson mansion blazed with light.

Isabella sat in a wheelchair, a champagne gown artfully concealing her injured leg. Her hair was elegantly coiffed, her makeup subtle—the picture of grace.

"Victoria, you're so lucky to have such an accomplished daughter!"

"If my child had half of Isabella's talent, I'd die happy!"

"Whoever marries her will be blessed!"

Victoria couldn't hide her pride, though she feigned modesty. "She's worked hard. Oh, she got those autographs you wanted."

"No way! Elia's actual signature?!"

Victoria nodded smugly, distributing them. "Only because Isabella knows her personally."

"Is Elia male or female? How old?"

"Isabella and Mr. Sullivan are perfect for each other. They'll definitely marry!"

Isabella basked in the praise, demure. "Elia's a woman in her forties. Very down-to-earth."

Just then, a commotion erupted at the entrance.

Everyone turned to see Fiona Ferguson gliding in, resplendent in white. She'd placed third in the design competition—acquainted with Isabella, but not close.

A matron rushed forward. "Fiona! Where's your mother?"