Florence was dissatisfied: "Sister-in-law, so giving Sarah the black card was what you intended? I thought you were being generous! You're so sly! But don't worry, I believe Sarah will come back."
Mrs. Varley snorted, clearly unimpressed.
Florence's stubbornness flared up: "Sister-in-law, how about a bet? If Sarah doesn't come back, my husband will close his restaurant and become your family's head chef!"
Florence's husband is Samuel Lee, rated as a five-star diamond-level chef in the Michelin evaluations.
He's one of the top ten globally and top three in Summer's elite chefs.
Mrs. Varley wasn't backing down: "Sure, I really like my brother-in-law's skills!"
Florence retorted: "And if Sarah comes back, I won't ask for anything else. How about giving her that heirloom bracelet, sister-in-law?"
Mrs. Varley instinctively wanted to agree, but Varley stopped her.
"Old lady, don't go crazy with Florence! Hmph, even if the girl returns, does it prove her character is reliable? Of course not! It just proves she's not too stupid to know that staying with the Varley Clan is far more beneficial than a mere black card."
Hearing Varley's words, Mrs. Varley indeed didn't take the bait from Florence.
Florence was even more dissatisfied: "Big brother, sister-in-law, they say no business without trickery, and the rich are heartless, it's not wrong at all for you! By your logic, if Sarah doesn't come back, she's absconded with the money, and if she does, she's up to no good. Isn't she damned if she does, damned if she doesn't?"
Just then, someone reported that the young mistress had returned.
Everyone in the room fell silent.
...
The Varley old house was enormous, and Anthony's courtyard was in the northeast corner. As Sarah walked back to her place, she happened to run into a young man.
The young man walked along, holding a phone facing him, muttering to himself, clearly doing a live video broadcast.
"This is our backyard, big or not?"
"Heh, is the estate 3,000 square meters? Who do you look down upon? Our estate, just the backyard alone is 200 acres!"
"What's a private swimming pool? We even have three helipads!"
As the young man bragged, the live stream barrage continuously scrolled with comments like "666," "Boss, you rock," "Anthony, take me flying."
The young man was very pleased.
Especially when he saw the private messages backstage filled with inquiries from many influencer beauties wanting to meet up somewhere, making him even happier.
The young man was named Oliver Varley, the only son of Steward Varley.
Although by status he was merely the butler's son, saying he's a servant might be a bit insulting, but at most, he was just a lower-level staff.
They shared the Varley surname, merely sharing their hometown, with no actual familial connection.
But as the butler of the elite Varley family, the status demanded people to curry favor, giving rise to the arrogant and domineering nature of the Steward Varley father-son duo.
Especially this Oliver, who gathered a bunch of idle friends outside, surrounded by flashy cars and ladies, called himself "Young Master Varley," and outshone the true master of the house, Anthony.
Like now, Oliver was flaunting and showing off wealth on a video streaming platform.
He sought nothing other than attracting the attention of those influencers, waiting for their affections.
Just then, Oliver spotted Sarah.
He was stunned.
Flabbergasted.
Dumbstruck.
This woman... this woman... how can she be so beautiful?
Those internet influencers couldn't hold a candle to Sarah, not even one of her fingers.
Oliver completely failed to notice his phone falling to the ground, his head tracked her direction like a scanning camera.
Meanwhile, Sarah, preoccupied with thoughts about Lily Valois's surgery, didn't notice this dunderhead's presence at all.
Oliver's drool was beginning to show.
He grabbed a passing gardener: "Who's that chick? How's she so spot-on!"
...
Sarah entered her yard and paused slightly.
The table was laden with dishes, a small bun sat properly on a chair, holding his chin, large clear eyes fixated on a plate of braised duck legs, looking extremely obedient.
Upon seeing the small bun, Sarah remembered their morning agreement.
In her busyness, she'd forgotten.
It seemed the small bun hadn't eaten yet, making Sarah feel guilty.
"Sorry, auntie forgot, the food's probably cold now, right? I'll heat it up for you." Sarah hurriedly said.
"Isn't it ice cold? Brightan hasn't eaten anything just to wait for you."
Florence had come uninvited again.
She was holding a delicate food box.
"Eat this, it's all hot."
She said while deftly setting the table with food.
Once dishes were set, Sarah picked up her chopsticks, and the small bun was already devouring them.
He seemed genuinely hungry.
"Brightan, you need to eat on time from now on, okay? Of course, today was auntie's fault."
Sarah said gently.
The small bun looked up, his mouth stuffed with food, even puffed up like a bun.
He nodded vigorously.
"Have some soup, don't choke."
Sarah poured a bowl of soup for the small bun.
"Look at them, motherly love and filial piety, becoming more and more alike a mother and son." Auntie tutted from the side.
Knowing she was at fault, Sarah's attitude towards her auntie softened, she didn't retort.
"Sarah, you know Brightan was incredibly introverted before, rarely close to anyone, you truly are an exception." Auntie continued.
Sarah silently added bamboo shoots to the small bun's plate.
"Oh right, Sarah, how about cooking a meal yourself tomorrow? I think Brightan would love it—"
Before Florence could finish her suggestion, she felt a murderous gaze.
It was Sarah's hostile glare.
It terrified Florence into silence.
Sarah had many secrets, skills unknown to outsiders.
Even her closest family hadn't fully unraveled Sarah.
But Sarah wasn't omnipotent.
Her biggest weakness was her culinary skills.
At her adoptive home, whenever Sarah attempted to enter the kitchen, her adoptive father would change his complexion, and her brother would tremble.
Sarah's cooking was truly "dark cuisine."
So, what did Florence's suggestion imply?
Did she want to embarrass Sarah on purpose?
Sarah was silently judging her aunt with her eyes, then she saw the small bun swallow his food and look at her with adorable eyes full of expectation.
Despite not uttering a word, the underlying message was clear.
Is that true?
I'm so looking forward to it!
"I... alright!"
Faced with Brightan's gaze, Sarah couldn't say no.
Could only agree against her will.
"Great, then I'll also get a taste of Sarah's cooking tomorrow, looking at you, one can tell you're skillful with your hands." Auntie cheered.
"Don't worry, auntie, you won't miss out."
Sarah sneered at Florence.
Auntie, even if you don't want to eat, you must!
You must come and taste my cooking!
If you dare to risk burial, I dare to dig your grave!