Chapter 306

They appeared to be close confidantes, but each harbored their own hidden agendas.

Mutual benefit without emotional entanglement—that was the safest kind of relationship.

Fine lines crinkled at the corners of Mrs. Langley's eyes as she smiled. "Melanie, leave this trivial matter to me. The old man dotes on his daughter-in-law. The transfer will be processed tomorrow."

Mrs. Valentine's red lips curved slightly. "Then I'll treat you to brunch at the Peninsula tomorrow morning."

"Deal." Mrs. Langley agreed readily.

The moment the call ended, a flash of ruthlessness crossed Mrs. Valentine's eyes.

Evelyn Roland, how dare you cross me? This is your fate.

The business world was a battlefield. Talent alone wasn't enough—connections were everything.

Did she really think securing Sterling Manor's backing would guarantee her safety?

With effortless grace, she picked up her Hermès bag and strode away in her stilettos.

Around the corner, Adrian Valentine emerged from the shadows. His dark eyes followed his mother's retreating figure, his expression stormy. He'd overheard the entire conversation, though the specifics remained unclear.

This household thrived on schemes.

Ever since Evelyn married into the family, his mother had targeted her relentlessly. The source of that inexplicable hatred eluded even him.

Of the three siblings, Gregory Valentine was their mother's clear favorite. Cassandra Valentine was ignored, and he—Adrian—was met with nothing but indifference.

Straightening his suit, he walked briskly into the club.

...

Mrs. Langley hadn't been to the office in three days.

Discovering that the daughter she'd raised for twenty years wasn't her biological child—and that her own husband was likely behind the switch—had left her emotionally shattered.

Once doubt took root, it spread like wildfire.

Propped weakly against the headboard, her illness only accentuated her delicate beauty, adding a touch of vulnerability.

Her phone vibrated.

She glanced lazily at the screen—a video message. The moment she opened it, her pupils contracted sharply.

The footage showed Vincent Langley in an intimate embrace with Margaret Valentine.

"Vincent... Langley!" She spat out each syllable, her nails digging into her palms.

She'd always known her husband was a womanizer, but this—with her own daughter's mother-in-law—was beyond contempt.

A violent coughing fit seized her. She clutched her chest, but the searing pain refused to subside.

She'd severed ties with her own family to marry Vincent Langley all those years ago. It hadn't been love so much as admiration for his boldness.

His handsome face had captivated her briefly, but the novelty wore off within years. For him, she'd even risked criminal dealings.

Whatever affection remained between them had long since eroded—which was why she'd taken up with her assistant.

But this betrayal crossed every line.

The sender's ulterior motives were obvious, but betrayal was betrayal. Worse still was the realization that the daughter she'd raised wasn't hers.

When her breathing steadied, she dialed her assistant.

"Madam, still not coming in today?"

"Jonathan," she rasped, "have someone track Vincent's movements. I want to know where he is right now."