Kent was on edge, worried about Silvia’s well-being.
Once they got into the car, he asked quietly, “What did she say to you?”
“She wanted to ‘look after’ my dowry for me,” Silvia replied, her tone dry and dismissive. She forced a little smile. “I’m a grown woman. Do I really need someone to manage my own assets? Does she think I’m that naïve?”
The memory of Laurinda Parsons’ patronizing words made Silvia want to laugh out loud.
Her voice carried a hint of amused sarcasm, clearly showing she wasn’t taking the incident to heart.
Kent glanced at her lovely profile, his brow knitting with concern. There was a deeper meaning in his gaze.
She really is too innocent, he thought, not seeing through Laurinda’s scheming ambitions at all.
He sighed inwardly, his stare growing more intent. From now on, he’d have to keep a closer eye on Silvia—maybe even arrange for someone to watch over her.
Laurinda Parsons was a ticking time bomb; it was only a matter of time before she exploded—and when she did, she’d lose all control.
Two days later, Silvia’s office renovations were finally complete. She stood in front of her small new studio, feeling nothing but pride and satisfaction.
From this day forward, she could finally devote herself fully to her design work.
“Sweet Silvia?”
A voice, hauntingly familiar and unwelcome, rang out from behind her.
As soon as she heard it, Silvia tensed, her hand at her side curling involuntarily into a fist.
She’d been bracing herself for this moment ever since she’d learned the news. But now that Shipley was actually standing here, she felt her composure crumble a little.
She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see Shipley every single day from now on—a prospect that filled her with dread.

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