Top-tier supporting actress

Chapter 3: Uncle

Even though Rowena had an urge to rise, upon inspecting the halfway-done nail art, she decided to stay seated.

Luna was notably earnest in her task, an employee navigating the social intricacies of her employer. As long as Rowena did not request her to cease, Luna intended to proceed with her services.

While Rowena remained still, the others rose from their seats, signalling the arrival of a steady set of footsteps.

Rowena had already beamed and called out to her "Little Uncle," demonstrating her delight at his presence.

Sam glanced briefly at his niece and was about to speak when he noticed the woman attending to her nails. His gaze involuntarily fixated on her.

Unfamiliarly, Luna's movements faltered upon hearing a familiar voice.

Thankfully, Rowena's attention was consumed by Sam, sparing Luna from detection.

"I found a nail artist whose aesthetic aligns with my taste, so I invited her over for a manicure," Rowena replied with a beaming smile, skillfully diverting Sam's attention.

At last, Sam ceased conversing with her. Taking to the sofa in the middle of the living room, the young scions swarmed around him. Reverential, everyone knew Sam as the conglomerate's head, wielding control over a fortune worth billions.

Anticipating a mere formality, they had expected Sam to soon busy himself, yet surprisingly, he remained seated, discussing their current academic and vocational plans.

The youthful scions found themselves sweating under Sam's interrogative gaze. Luna, perceiving Sam's indifference, settled into her task, increasingly focused.

Rowena intermittently chimed in with the conversation, diverting her attention between Sam and the others.

Shortly after, Luna caught Kiki's voice. Setting aside her illustrated book, Kiki leaned in and whispered to her mother, "Mom, I need to use the restroom."

Time had passed, and Kiki, being but a child, naturally felt the urge to relieve herself.

Quickly glancing at Rowena, who appeared fatigued, Luna sought her approval to leave. "Shall we go to the washroom for a bit? I can also take a break; and grab a snack," Rowena suggested wearily.

"Thank you, miss." Luna promptly took Kiki's hand and veered towards the restroom.

Upon exiting, they nearly stumbled upon Sam, who was engrossed in smoking. Luna momentarily froze in her tracks, causing Kiki to ask, "Mom, what's wrong?"

Luna gently patted her daughter's head, "Nothing, let's go back." As they inched past Sam, his voice cut through, "Is this your daughter?"

Puzzled, Kiki looked up at Sam, "Sir, do you know me?"

Unable to feign obliviousness any longer, Luna nodded at Sam, "Yes, she's Kiki, four years old this year."

Sam's gaze turned inscrutable. After glancing at Kiki and then back at Luna, he inquired, "Is being a freelance nail artist your current occupation?"

Luna, unashamed, replied, "Yes." They had moved in different social circles over the past decade. For her, earning a living to support herself and her daughter was already commendable.

"And your husband?" Sam's inquiry prompted a subtle change in Luna's expression.

Glancing at Sam, she forced a smile. "My husband has been on business trips and hasn't returned yet."

Before he could say anything further, Sam's phone rang. He excused himself and walked away to answer the call.

As he departed, Luna found solace in the unfamiliar aura, her tranquility fortifying her resolve. The afternoon passed without much ado. Rowena admired Luna's skilful nail artistry and, originally intending to pay 5000, she eventually handed over 6000. Luna graciously accepted, mindful that in the eyes of the wealthy, a thousand more or less didn't matter much. For someone like her, the difference meant a lot.

Gathering her earnings, Luna prepared to depart with Kiki, only to be halted by the housekeeper, who presented her with a parcel of clothing. "This is a set of unworn apparel from Miss. She inquired, and your sizes seem to align."

Gazing at the high-end garments, Luna shook her head gently, "Thank you for her generosity, but I must decline." Before she turned twenty, she had worn nothing but designer clothes, yet later learned that one should only wear what befits one's current status.

The housekeeper resigned to Luna's resolve, retrieved the garments. Although tempted, they knew better than to inquire further; it was ingrained as part of their duty.

Observing the departing figures of the mother and daughter, Sam maintained his silence, holding back his thoughts.

Unaware of these events, that night, Luna's contentment was palpable as she cradled her daughter, her heart brimming with accomplishment.

Regrettably, the next day, a hospital called, urging for payment—serving as a reminder of the postulations of fate.