Mia set the plate in front of Raven and sat beside her, adjusting the edge of the tablecloth with restless fingers. "Come home earlier from the office," she said, her voice low but firm. "Staying out late isn't safe. You know how it is for girls at night."
Raven didn't respond. She picked up her spoon and began eating in silence.
"Your father and brother left after you," Mia continued, watching her closely, "and still reached home before you. Where were you?"
"Walking in the park," Raven said, her tone flat, as she filled her mouth with plain rice.
Mia frowned at the sight, immediately reaching over to place pieces of chicken onto her plate. "Eat properly. I made this for you."
She paused, then added, "They went to dinner again. Some party."
Raven nodded faintly. "At Uncle Han's place."
A few bites later, Raven's hand slowed. She set the spoon down and turned slightly toward her mother.
"Mom," she said, her voice quieter now, "you promised he wouldn't humiliate me in public again."
Mia's expression shifted, her brows drawing together. "What happened? What did he say?"
Raven exhaled slowly and recounted the meeting, her words steady, almost detached, as if repeating something she had already processed. She described the raised voice, the pointed remarks, and the way his attention lingered on her as if waiting for a mistake.
"I didn't expect praise," she finished, her lips pressing together. "But you know that look he gets. It's as if he's waiting for something to go wrong so he can tear into it.
Her gaze dropped briefly before tightening again. "And Javier had to mention it right then. I asked him to meet privately with Yaoying. He ignored it."
Mia listened without interrupting, her fingers curling against her lap.
"Anyway," Raven continued, picking up her spoon again but not eating, "Dad messaged in the group. He's not funding the SOA production. Not the Weiwei campaign either. I paid Mr. Fan from my own account."
Mia's head snapped toward her. "Why would you do that?"
"Mom," Raven said quickly, lowering her voice, "don't raise your voice." They'll hear."
Mia pressed her lips together, but the frustration showed in her eyes, sharp and restless.
"You know we have a wedding coming," she said, her tone tightening. "Where is this money going to come from?"
Raven leaned slightly closer, her voice steady, controlled. "Yaoying and I discussed it. I'll take a loan. She has contacts at the bank. If needed, I'll take a personal loan to cover salaries."
Mia stared at her, blinking rapidly as if trying to hold something back. "And who will repay all this?"
Raven didn't hesitate. "I will."
She finally took a bite, chewing slowly, as if the decision had already settled inside her.
"This project started with me," she said. "It won't collapse halfway."
Mia was aware that her daughter would probably again be used and cast aside; Raven knew it better, but the pressure forced her back into the same battlefield.
Raven had built the first version of the company when it was nothing more than a small operation. She handled suppliers, pricing, and early marketing with limited resources. Those months taught her more than any formal training. Even after her removal from control, the systems she created continued to shape the company. She trusted Ayan and handed over the authority only to find it collapsing.
Leaving was not simple. The company was tied to her name, her work, and her access to resources she could not replace outside. Financially and structurally, she was bound to it. Walking away meant starting from nothing, without support or protection. So, she could only hide for a short time.
—
Raven had just settled into bed when Mia entered without knocking and sat at the edge, the mattress dipping under her weight.
"My girl," she began, her voice softer than before, almost careful, "just bear this burden for a few months. And try to lose some weight."
Raven groaned, pulling the blanket over her shoulder. "Mom, what time is it? Why are we talking about this subject now? As if Uncle Ron didn't say enough today."
"I tell you every day," Mia replied, her tone tightening, "and still you don't start. Not even a little effort."
Raven turned to the other side, covering her face completely.
Mia watched her for a moment, then continued, "I spoke to the Shah family's old madam today. She saw your picture. A faint smile appeared. "She said she would be happy to accept you as her granddaughter-in-law."
Raven didn't move.
"She said you reminded her of an old friend," Mia added, as if that detail might soften something.
Still no response.
"And Atish," Mia went on, "he's hosting a housewarming. He invited us. Your father and I won't be able to go; there's a family gathering. You can take your sister."
"I know," Raven muttered from under the blanket. "He messaged me."
She reached out, unlocked her phone, and showed the message without sitting up. Mia glanced at it, her expression easing for a second before tightening again.
"Then why didn't you reply?"
"Because I'm not going."
Mia's brows drew together. "Why wouldn't you go? Listen to me. You won't find a better family than the Shahs. They are decent people. And they will keep you comfortable."
Raven lowered the blanket slightly, her eyes meeting her mother's.
"Comfortable," she repeated, her tone dry. "Or useful?"
Mia's hand struck lightly against the bed. "What is wrong with marrying into a good, wealthy family? Do you know how your cousins would react if they heard Atish Shah is interested in you?"
"Then let one of them marry him," Raven said, pulling the blanket back over her face. "They'll appreciate it more."
Mia stood up abruptly, frustration rising past restraint.
"You are ungrateful," she said, her voice sharp now. "You have always been like this. "Never satisfied. Never seeing what you have."
Raven said nothing.
"It is because of your attitude," Mia continued, moving toward the door, "that you remain unhappy."
She paused at the doorway, her back still turned.
"If you don't change, you will spend your life like this, regretting everything."
The door closed behind her.
Raven lay still, the blanket pulled over her face, her breathing steady, but her fingers clenched tightly beneath the fabric.