Ella gave a small smile. "In families like this, the goal is simple—lots of heirs. The more, the better."
Natalia kept fishing. "Does Mr. White have any particular hobbies? Anything he's especially into?"
Ella stayed polite. "We don't usually pry into our employer's private life."
Natalia snorted. "Employer, staff—what is this, the Victorian era?"
"And don't keep calling me "Ms. Natalia". Just Natalia is fine."
"I can't stand the whole upper-class thing. People flash a little money and suddenly they think they're a duke or something. It's ridiculous."
"Everyone's born into different circumstances, sure—but on a human level? We're all equal."
Ella: "…"
—
In a private hospital's VIP suite, Andres, Maeve, and Murray—still recovering—listened to every word through a laptop screen.
Maeve glanced at Andres. "Anything feel off to you?"
Andres didn't even blink. "She's playing dumb. Acting innocent so people let their guard down."
Murray looked completely lost. "What does that even mean?"
Andres and Maeve shot him the same look—like he'd just asked whether water was wet.
Murray swallowed. Was he being insulted? Judged? Executed on the spot?
Maeve took pity on him and explained, "Who introduced Natalia to Whitty in the first place?"
Murray answered instantly. "That idiot Anya."
In Murray's opinion, Anya was truly hopeless.
She strutted around with the "Aethelburg University genius" label, yet her entire brain seemed devoted to one goal: snagging a rich husband.
That woman wasn't fit to shine Miss Vance's shoes.
Maeve's mood visibly improved at that.

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