My Versatile Wife

Chapter 10---A Keepsake from Mother

Emily Wright's expression hardened, her eyes betraying a hint of wounded pride.

"Sister, how could you speak to me like this?"

Daisy Wright forced a strained smile. "Aurora, your little sister means well. Why don't you two talk and clear up any misunderstandings? After all, you're still family."

"Family? Sorry. In this house, I can be family with anyone—except the two of you. And for the record, my mother had only one daughter. Since when did I get a sister? Please don't fabricate kinship out of thin air. Aren't you afraid my mother's spirit will rise from the grave to curse you?"

"Ahh—!"

Startled by her icy, cutting tone, Emily Wright screamed and buried herself in Daisy Wright's arms.

Just then, a sharp command echoed from the top of the stairs.

"Aurora!"

Aurora looked up to see Lucy Wright descending slowly, leaning on her cane. Though aged, the old lady exuded vigor and sharpness. Now, with a stern face, she carried an aura of unshakable authority.

Yet Aurora stood her ground, calm and composed, her gaze distant, her presence frosty.

Lucy Wright despised this demeanor most—aloof and defiant, just like her late mother. As if pride were etched into her bones, making her indifferent to all.

She snapped, "What did you just say?"

Aurora remained silent. Some battles, fought too often, lose their meaning. Years ago, she might have argued over her mother's memory. But now, she knew no one in this family honored her mother—so she wouldn't even waste her breath.

Seeing her silence, Lucy Wright mistook it for fear and softened slightly. Then she turned to Emily Wright, who clung to Daisy Wright like a frightened doe, her delicate face glistening with helpless tears. Lucy Wright's heart softened further.

"Enough. Since you're back, let the past stay buried. Go to the dining room and eat."

With that, she led the way. Aurora frowned but followed.

"Aurora, I knew you were returning, so I had Joyce prepare your favorite dishes. Try them—tell me if they're good?"

The moment they sat, Daisy Wright eagerly piled food onto her plate. Aurora suppressed her revulsion, left her chopsticks untouched, and said nothing.

Daniel Wright, watching her sit like a statue of ice, flared with anger.

"What? Is sharing a meal with us beneath you? Aunt Daisy is your elder—when she serves you, don't you know to say thanks?"

Aurora stayed silent. Even if she wished to let go, she couldn't feign civility toward the woman who had crushed her mother's spirit.

She set down her chopsticks coldly. "No need. I'm not hungry. I don't want to eat. What do you want from me? Just say it."

Lucy Wright studied her, her sharp eyes flashing with calculation. This time, she didn't rage. Instead, she said gravely, "You clearly harbor deep resentment. Very well. No one forces you to eat. We called you back to inform you: The day after tomorrow is your sister's birthday. We're hosting a banquet. We've arranged with the Thompsons to announce their relationship at the event. You will attend. And if asked, you'll say it was always your sister engaged to Henry. This is for your own sake. Since you two are history, it's best to move on."

Aurora stared, stunned. She never imagined they'd summon her back—just for this.

She looked at Lucy Wright. Then, after a long silence, she let out a soft, bitter laugh.

"So you want me to shield them? To be the foundation they step on to announce their love?"

Lucy Wright's face darkened. "How dare you speak so? This is for your sister—and for you!"

She paused. "You're a young woman. You'll marry someday. Is it dignified to let the world know you were cast aside?"

"And if I refuse?"

"You have no choice. I've decided. You cannot object."

"And if I refuse to go?"

Lucy Wright laughed coldly, her gaze laced with mockery. "You won't. Unless… you no longer care for what your mother left behind."

The dining room fell into silence—so still a pin's drop would echo.

Aurora shot to her feet. Her face paled, her eyes glacial as she locked onto Lucy Wright.

After a long moment, she laughed—cold, sharp.

"Fine. Very well. You can threaten me now—but not forever."

"Threatening you now is enough."

Unmoved by her fury, Lucy Wright calmly set down her chopsticks.

"Eight o'clock the day after tomorrow. Imperial Hotel. Don't be late."

…

It was eight at night when Aurora left the Wright Villa. The late autumn wind bit at her skin, but it couldn't cool the fire in her chest.

She'd known Lucy Wright favored Emily Wright, but never to this extent. Not even pretending to be a grandmother—using her mother's legacy as leverage so Emily Wright could climb over her?

The absurdity was laughable.

Aurora stood by the roadside, letting her rage settle before regaining control.

Years ago, her mother, Violet Wright, had arranged a will through a lawyer before her passing. The will was simple: a safety deposit box at the bank. If she died, its contents would go to Aurora. The sole condition: only after marriage. Until then, a designated lawyer would safeguard it.

Aurora never understood why her mother made such a will, nor what lay inside. Yet over the years, the Wrights had repeatedly tried to pressure her into surrendering this inheritance.

Of course, she refused. Beyond its value, these were her mother's final relics—she'd never let them fall into others' hands. But this only deepened her suspicion: whatever was inside must be extraordinary. Otherwise, with the Wrights' wealth, why crave it so?

Lost in thought, a black Audi passed her and stopped before the Villa. Aurora blinked. Then, a familiar voice reached her.

"Aurora? What are you doing here?"

She turned. Henry Thompson stepped out—dressed in a deep blue Armani suit, tall, poised, radiant with success.

She curled her lips in mockery. "Mr. Thompson, you're so busy with high society, you must've forgotten my name."

Henry froze, his face stiffening. Of course he hadn't forgotten she was also a Wright. This, technically, was her home. But she'd severed ties years ago, never returned. Seeing her now, he was stunned.