Chapter 5: The Unexpected Proposal

When we returned to the private lounge at Oak & Vine for honored guests, we were greeted by Mrs. Jennings’ eager gaze. She looked at me for a long time, hugged Adam, and asked if he was happy. He nodded vigorously: "Happy, I like sister!"

Mrs. Jennings’ eyes softened, her hands smoothing Adam’s hair. She looked at me with a mixture of hope and calculation, weighing my worth in ways only mothers can.

Uncle Mark was delighted and said, "Since Adam likes Evelyn, let Evelyn go home with you and keep you company forever, alright?"

His words were blunt, transactional. I felt my cheeks burn, but I kept my back straight, refusing to show weakness. The room was silent, everyone waiting for my reaction.

Such blunt words, as if I were goods on a shelf—if you like, pay and take me away. Everyone reacted differently. Adam was overjoyed; Mrs. Jennings watched me intently. Trevor was indifferent, ignoring Uncle Mark’s words, only staring at Adam with undisguised dislike. Mr. Jennings stood in the corner, watching everyone thoughtfully. Standing at the center, I could only straighten my back and look ahead calmly. Mrs. Jennings seemed surprised, glanced at Uncle Mark’s uncontrollable smile, then at Mr. Jennings, and asked me kindly, "Miss Whitaker, what do you think of Adam?"

Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were sharp. I met her gaze, refusing to look away. I knew what she was asking, and I answered honestly.

"Third son is pure-hearted, a good kid," I replied sincerely.

I let my words hang in the air, hoping she’d hear the truth in them. Mrs. Jennings nodded, her lips curving into a small smile.

Mrs. Jennings nodded with satisfaction, telling Uncle Mark, "Then let the kids be engaged; tomorrow I’ll send the birth certificates."

The decision was made, just like that. I felt the world shift beneath my feet, but I kept my face calm, my voice steady. This was my life now.

Uncle Mark beamed. The next day, the Whitaker family and the Jennings family exchanged documents; the pastor confirmed the wedding date in three months. The date was rushed, so after Savannah left her room, she mocked me for a while. I ignored her, but she thought I was embarrassed, coming to taunt me every few days as if humiliating me was fun. Luckily, she soon had to focus on accounts. That morning, the staff were all cheerful, hoping for a bonus after the accounts were settled. But I knew they wouldn’t get one. Since Savannah took charge, expenses soared, and many shop accounts weren’t settled; Trevor and the second branch hoped the shop income would cover the deficit. But when they saw the money, they were stunned. "How come there’s only $2,000!" Trevor threw the account book at the manager’s feet. "Speak! Did you embezzle!"

The argument echoed through the halls, voices rising and falling like a storm at sea. I listened from my room, sipping tea, knowing exactly how this would end.

The manager knelt in fright: "Trustee, I’m innocent!"

His voice trembled, his hands shaking. The staff watched, silent and scared. Trevor glared at him, the account book still open on the floor.

"There was over $5,000 in the first half! It’s written clearly!"

Trevor’s voice was shrill, desperate. The room was silent, everyone waiting for the next blow.

"That’s because eldest Miss..."

Before he finished, Trevor stormed over to slap me. Quinn rushed over, taking the slap for me. Seeing her face swell, I angrily slapped him back—my first time hitting him. Savannah screamed, rushing to shield Trevor: "Evelyn, what are you doing!"

The slap rang out, sharp and final. The room froze, everyone stunned. I stood tall, my hand still tingling, my heart pounding.

I replied coldly: "Disciplining my brother."

My voice was ice, cutting through the chaos. Savannah glared at me, her face twisted with rage.

Trevor covered his face, breathing with anger and grievance: "You, you hit me!"

His voice was thick with tears, his pride shattered. I looked at him, unflinching.

"I hit you, as is my right."

I met his gaze, daring him to argue. The room was silent, the tension palpable.

"You’re not my sister, what right do you have! You embezzled the household’s money and still hit me!"

His accusation was desperate, the last gasp of a drowning man. I shook my head, tired of the game.

"Trevor, did you let the manager finish?"

I shot a look at the manager; he trembled and stammered: "Trustee, the businesses were always managed by eldest Miss. Many merchants only trust her. In the past half year, with her not managing, business dropped by more than half..."

His words hung in the air, the truth undeniable. The staff nodded, murmuring agreement. Trevor’s face fell, the fight gone from his eyes.

The main living room was dead silent. Uncle Mark and his daughter, always proud, thought money fell from the sky, never considering it needed management. As for Trevor, I had taken him to the shops, let him hear the managers’ meetings, but he only pretended to learn, never absorbing anything, and later found excuses to stop going. I used to think it didn’t matter, as long as I was there. Now I scoff—Trevor and the second branch truly are blood relatives, sharing the same lofty attitude. After a while, Trevor finally spoke: "You..."

His voice was small, broken. I felt a pang of pity, but it quickly faded.

I ignored him and asked, "Managing the household is easy, isn’t it?"

My words were quiet, but the meaning was clear. The staff looked at each other, some nodding, some shaking their heads. The truth was out, and there was no putting it back.

This made Trevor and Savannah pale. I’d seen enough of the show and didn’t want to stay, especially as Quinn’s face needed treatment. I ignored Trevor, brushed off Savannah, and didn’t respond to his hesitant look, only saying: "Trustee and second sister, take your time. I’ll take Quinn back."

I gathered my things, helping Quinn to her feet. The room watched us go, silent and ashamed. I felt their eyes on my back, but I didn’t care.